Vincent by Tim Burton
Vincent...
Me tengo que ir. Tal vez comente algo luego. O tal vez no.
posted by despistada at 4:51 AM
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Vincent...
Me tengo que ir. Tal vez comente algo luego. O tal vez no.
Vincent...
Me tengo que ir. Tal vez comente algo luego. O tal vez no.
3 Comments:
Vincent Malloy is seven years old
He's polite and always does as he's told
For a boy his age, he's considerate and nice
But he wants to be just like Vincent Price
He doesn't mind living with his sister, dog, and cats
Though he'd rather share a home with spiders and bats
There he could reflect on the horrors he has invented and wander dark hallways alone and tormented
Vincent is nice when his aunt comes to see him
But imagines dipping her in wax for his wax museum
He likes to experiment on his dog Abocrombie
In the hopes of creating a horrible zombie
So that he and his horrible zombie dog
could go searching for victims in the London fog
His thoughts aren't only of ghoulish crime
He likes to paint and read to pass some of the time
While other kids read books like "Go Jane Go"
Vincent's favorite author is Edgar Allen Poe.
One night while reading a gruesome tale
he read a passage that made him turn pale
Such horrible news he could not survive
For his beautiful wife had been buried alive
He dug out her grave to make sure she was dead
Unaware that her grave was his mother's flower bed
His mother sent Vincent off to his room
He knew he'd been banished to the tower of doom
where he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life
alone with the portrait of his beautiful wife.
While alone and insane incased in his doom
Vincent's mother burst suddenly into the room
She said, "If you want, you can go out and play
It's sunny outside and a beautiful day."
Vincent tried to talk but he just couldn't speak
the years of isolation had made him quite weak
So he took out some paper and scrawled with a pen:
"I'm possessed by this house and can never leave it again."
His mother said, "You are NOT possessed and you are NOT almost dead
These games you play are all in your head
You are NOT Vincent Price, you're Vincent Malloy
You're not tormented or insane, you're just a young boy
You're seven years old, and you are my son
I want you to get outside and have some real fun."
Her anger now spent, she walked out through the hall
While Vincent backed slowly against the wall
The room started to sway, to shiver and creak
His horrored insanity had reached its peak
He saw Abocrombie, his zombie slave
and heard his wife call from beyond the grave
She spoke through her coffin and made ghoulish demands
While through cracking walls reached skeleton hands
Every horror in his life that had crept through his dreams
swept his mad laughter to terrified screams
To escape the badness, he reached for the door
but fell limp and lifeless down on the floor
His voice was soft and very slow
As he quoted "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe:
"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted...Nevermore."
Vincent Malloy tiene siete años,
es un niño amable pero algo extraño.
Es bueno, obediente y muy educado.
Pero él quiere ser como Vincent Price, su idolo soñado.
No le importa vivir con su gato, perro y hermana,
aunque preferiria compartir casa con murciélagos y arañas.
Allí jugaría con los horrores que inventaría
y vagaría por los pasillos, solo y atormentado.
Cuando viene su tía, Vincent parece un cielo.
Pero se imagina sumergiéndola en cera hirviendo para su museo.
Le gusta experimentar con su perro Albert Crombi,
con el fin de crear un horrible zombie.
Y con ese aspecto horrible para los hombres,
vagarían en busca de víctimas en la espesa niebla de Londres.
Pero el no solo piensa en crímenes horrendos,
también pinta y de vez en cuanto lee cuentos.
Mientras otros niños leen tebeos de acción,
Edgar Allan Poe es quien llama su atención.
Una noche mientras leía una historia horripilante,
algo le hizo palidecer al instante.
Con tan tamaño disgusto que su vida quedo derrumbada,
pues su esposa viva fue enterrada.
Debía cerciorarse de que había muerto,
pero intentando desenterrarla destrozó las flores del huerto.
Su madre lo envió a su cuarto como castigo,
desterrándolo solo a la torre del olvido,
sentenciado a pasar su vida
con el retrato de su esposa que fue enterrada viva.
Y mientras lloraba sumido en la desperación,
apareció su madre en la habitacíon.
Le dijo: " Si quieres puedes salir a jugar.
hace un buen día, lo puedes aprovechar"
Vincent trató de hablar pero no pudo,
los años de aislamineto lo volvieron casi mudo.
Así que cogió su pluma y se puso a escrbir:
"Estoy poseído por esta casa, ya no volveré a salir"
Su madre le contestó: "Ni estás poseído, ni estás medio muerto.
Este juego tuyo es solo un invento. Eres Vincent Malloy. No eres Vincent Price
y no estas loco ni atormentado, ¡caray!
Tienes siete años y eres mi hijo,
vete a jugar con otros niños te lo exijo.
Y tras ese toque de atención, abandonó la habitación.
Pero cunado Vincent trato de sobreponerse,
las paredes empezaron a moverse.
Rugían, temblaban
y su terrible locura la cima alcanzaba.
Vio a Albert Crombie,
su terrible zombie.
Y su mujer lo llamaba del otro lado,
de la tumba nacian sus ecos.
Y de las paredes surgian manos de esqueletos.
todas las desgracias que sus sueños atormentaban,
entraban en su vida mientras él gritaba.
Trató de escapar, huir del horror.
pero su mustio cuerpo se derrumbó
por el dolor.
Y débilmente casi sin voz recitó
"El Cuervo" de Edgar Allan Poe:
"Y mi alma, de esa sombra que allí flota fantasmal, no se alzará nuca más"
Me encanta este
:)
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