where the spirit meets the bones

Unfortunately, the translation will never be as great as the original. Sometimes, the creativity of a Nobel Laureate cannot be reproduced. Some of the imagery in this particular book come from the intricate combination of sounds and meanings specific to the Spanish language. No literal translation or lyrical paraphrase can never uphold the grandeur of the original thought of the author. Just the sound of each word is magnificent. Spanish is such a beautiful language and the great Spanish writers know exactly how to use each syllable to produce a captivating melody that may even rival that of any produced by Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, or Verdi.

Two sentences that caught my attention and I feel are examples of this:

“Siempre, a toda hora, dormida y despierta, en los intantes mas sublimes y en los abyectos, Amaranta pensabe en Rebeca, porque la soledad le habia selecionado los recuerdo, y habia incinerado los entorpecedores montones de basura nostalgica que la vida habia acumulado en su corazon, y habia purificado, magnificado y eternizado los otros, los mas amargos.”

“Always at every moment, asleep and awake, during the most sublime and most abject moments, Amaranta thought about Rebeca, because solitude had made a selection in her memory and had burned the dimming piles of nostalgic waste that life accumulated in her heart, and had purified, magnified, and eternalized the others, the most bitter ones”

“Las semanas precedentes se habia visto las cuadrillas que tendieron durmientes y rieles, y nadie les presto atencion porque pensaron que era un nuevo artificio de los gitanos que volvian con su centenario y desprestigiado dale que dale de pitos y sonajas pregonando las excelencias de quien iba saber que pendejo menjunje de jarapelllinosos genios jerosolimitanos.”

“During the previous weeks they had seen the gangs who were laying ties and tracks and no one paid attention to them because they thought it was some new trick of the gypsies, coming back with whistling and tambourines and their age-old and discredited song and dance about the qualities of some concoction put together by journeyman geniuses of Jerusalem.”

A Midsummer Dream of Her Own

This playlist began as a fascination and slowly became a compass. A collection of songs for fairy queens and wandering princesses, moonlit groves and secret courts, Renaissance gardens and enchanted woods. Music that feels like dew on rose petals, silver crowns, distant bells, candlelit banquets, and the brief moment before dawn when magic still lingers in the air.

~

The Handmade incredible miniatures of cookers