"The Blue Bird" Ruben Dario
P aris is funny and terrible drama. Among the audience at Café Plombier, good and determined boys, painters, sculptors, writers, poets, and if, all looking for the old green bay! - none more beloved than this poor Garcin, sad almost always good drinker of absinthe, a dreamer who never drank, and, as a bohemian impeccable, bravo improviser.
rickety shack In our merry meetings, kept the plaster walls, between the outline and features of future Delacroix, verses, stanzas written in the letter entire, thick pitch our blue bird.
The Blue Bird was the poor Garcin. Do you not know what name? We baptized with that name.
This was not just a whim. One boy had excellent Wine sad. When we asked why, when everyone laughed like fools or as little boys, he wrinkled his brow and stared at the ceiling, and we responded with a smile with some bitterness:
- Comrades, you must know that I have a bluebird in the brain, therefore ... It happened
also liked to go to the new countryside, entering the spring. The forest air was good for your lungs, as we said the poet.
of their trips used to bring bouquets of violets and thick booklets madrigal, written at the sound of the leaves and under the wide sky without clouds. Violets were for Nini, her neighbor, a girl fresh and rosy, her eyes were very blue.
The verses were for us. We would read and applauded. We were all praise for Garcin. It was a ingenuity that should shine. The time would come. Oh, the blue bird fly high! Bravo! Well! Hey, waiter, more foreign!
Garcin Principles:
of flowers, the beautiful bluebells.
Among gemstones, sapphire
the immense, the sky and love, that is, the pupils of Nini.
And he repeated the poet: I believe that neurosis is always preferable to stupidity.
Sometimes Garcin was more sad than usual.
walked along the boulevards; saw the lavish spending indifferent carriages, elegant, beautiful women. Front window of a jeweler smiled, but as it passed near a book store, was reached to the glass, sniffing and seeing the luxury editions, declared decidedly envious, wrinkled forehead, to relieve himself, turned his face to the sky and sighed. Ran the cafe in search of us, moved, exalted, asked for a glass of absinthe, and he told us:
- If within the cage of my brain is caught a bluebird he wants his freedom .. .
There were some who came to believe in a defeat of reason.
One day he received from his father, an old provincial Normandy, dealer in rags, a letter which read, more or less:
"I know your crazy in Paris. While you are thus not have a single sou me. See the books from my store, and when you burn, pigeon, your manuscripts of nonsense, you have my money. "
This letter was read at the Cafe Plombier.
- And did you go?
- Do not you go?
- Okay?
- "disdains?
Bravo, Garcin! Tore up the letter, and drop the rag in the vein, he improvised a few stanzas, which ended, if I remember:
Yes, I will always be a slacker,
which I applaud and welcome,
long as my brain
cage Blue Bird!
since changed character Garcin, chatter turned, took a bath with joy, she bought a new coat and began a poem in triplets, entitled, as is clear: "The Blue Bird."
Every night I read something new in our gathering of the work. That was excellent, sublime, absurd.
There was a very beautiful sky, a very cool countryside, country erupted as the magic of brush Corot, faces of children peering from flowers, Nini eyes moist and large, and moreover, the good God who sends them flying, flying, all information about a blue bird, not knowing how or when, nested within the brain of the poet, where he is imprisoned. When the bird wants to fly and open their wings and gives against the walls of the skull, lift their eyes to heaven, wrinkled forehead and drink absinthe with a little water, smoking also by auction, a cigarette paper.
That is the poem.
Garcin One night there laughing a lot and yet, very sad.
The beautiful neighbor had been taken to the cemetery.
- A news! A news! Last song of my poem, Nini is dead. Come spring and Nini is going. Saving violets to the countryside. Now missing from the epilogue of the poem. The editors will not even deign to read my poems. You soon will have to dispersing. Time Act. The epilogue should be graduating with: "How the blue bird takes flight into the blue sky."
Full spring! The trees bloom, the pink clouds at dawn and pale in the afternoon, the soft air that moves the leaves and makes flapping straw tapes with special noise! Garcin has not gone to the country. Hele
there, comes with new clothes, our beloved Café Plombier, pale, with a sad smile.
- My friends, a hug! All embrace me, so strong, tell me goodbye, with all your heart, with all my heart ... The blue bird flies.
And poor Garcin cried, we hugged, we clasped hands with all his strength and left.
all said:
- Garcin, the prodigal son, looking for his father, the old Norman.
Muses, goodbye, goodbye, thank you! Our poet was decided to measure suits! Eh! A Cup by Garcin!
Pale, frightened, saddened, the day after parishioners Plombier Coffee, who got so noisy in that rickety shack, we were in the room, Garcin. He was in his bed, on the bloody sheets, his skull broken by a bullet. On the pillow were fragments of brain ... Horrible!
When printing spare parts, we mourn with the body of our friend, we found that it was the famous poem. On the last page had written these words:
"Today, in the middle of spring, left open the cage door to poor bluebird."
Oh, Garcin, how many are in your same disease brain!.Well, we read two stories by Ruben Dario, Nicaraguan writer of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
But ... Why would share these two short stories? If you remember in the early part of the entry, I'm high school student and am in the last year and I am in area 4: humanities and arts. And every time I say that I got there that do not know. For
cite what my teacher told us Mexican and Latin American Literature, Aida Navarro Daniela Maycott National High School but not exactly like it was a great moment of spontaneity.
"Many believe that art is useless. For if we think art has no utilitarian use.
But who is reluctant to hang a nice picture on the wall, have a nice dinner, to decorate furniture with a nice cushion to sit and listen to music, arranged his dress with a beautiful tie? Obviously, these objects are designed so that people would like, they attract and these were made by artists. It is a simple example.
Art is part of us, a form of expression in different ways. Who does not understand the art is not really a human being.
is part of what is narrated in these two stories. As in the King Bourgeois shows a model, a way of thinking. People believe that the only way to do it is through money. Who earns more in less time is the best person and not we think that there are other and better ways of self really. This story is a critique of the bourgeoisie, a rich man who spends money on things he believes are most important art and when they are as an artist is not really appreciates it and let it die cold and trisitemente.
And so goes even today, do not appreciate the work of artists.
And in the Blue Bird is also the story of an artist, a poet who lives for art and even has his muse, Nini. There is a man with a lot of money but that is not the most important, it hurts more when they want to force others to stop these "crazy." Given s situation, Garcin the poet decides to commit suicide to clear this blue bird, so called inspiration. "
More or less like this was what my teacher told us but at that moment was so emotional and beautiful masterpiece that when I finish the whole group applauded him to the teacher.
And I am very happy to be in area 4. I constantly repeat that I will die of hunger. We'll see.
Unfortunately many people do not understand art, do not appreciate it and believe that the only important thing is money and the only way to reach success. I think not.
Then I discovered my vocation, as well as the natural sciences one of its goals is to understand the nature and what surrounds us in order to control and harness it to our advantage, social sciences, humanities and arts is to understand what makes the human being who we are and how we operate and this across different disciplines.
The art does not work? Do you really imagine a world without painting, no music, no architecture, no color, with nothing to be sexy?
Art is an essential part of human beings and who does not understand the art, not human.
A Salute to the teacher Maycott for great classes.
