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63853 scrobblings desde 13 May 2010

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Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disablèd, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly doctor-like controlling skill, And simple truth miscalled simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill; Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, Save that to die, I leave my love alone...

William Shakespeare

1st track: (13 May 2010)
Leonard Cohen - So Long, Marianne
1000th track: (17 May 2010)
Víctor Jara - La Carpa de las Coliguillas (Tonada)
Generated on 18 May 2010
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You said, "I will go to another land, I will go to another sea. Another city will be found, better than this. Every effort of mine is condemned by fate; and my heart is -- like a corpse -- buried. How long in this wasteland will my mind remain. Wherever I turn my eyes, wherever I may look I see the black ruins of my life here, where I spent so many years, and ruined and wasted."
New lands you will not find, you will not find other seas. The city will follow you. You will roam the same streets. And you will age in the same neighborhoods; in these same houses you will grow gray.
Always you will arrive in this city. To another land -- do not hope --
there is no ship for you, there is no road. As you have ruined your life here in this little corner, you have destroyed it in the whole world...

Constantine P. Cavafy

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