tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222880012024-02-07T19:30:08.394-05:00Carissima In Deliciis¡Qué hermosa y qué encantadora eres, amor mío, con todos tus encantos!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger421125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-15579057935122808712009-06-27T19:58:00.004-04:002009-06-30T17:53:18.081-04:00G A T O S<a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.theispot.com/search/index.cfm?fuseaction=portfolioSearchAction&artistID=a2500&SearchParameter=artistID&newSearch=yes" target="_blank">© CatTail by Keith Lanpher</a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-pLwDqmNtiXzWli5V39AqnfaU0r2d3R5IGFjxj7RrBGFHdVpyCQOyLkdX2tQQYlhhdNl7ao40pHixtK-vg1vscM-GOv7DU401fb1_WK8p7jqzCNvvM7JimwysGYixd1nP-9hD/s1600-h/CatTail_by++Keith+Lanpher.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-pLwDqmNtiXzWli5V39AqnfaU0r2d3R5IGFjxj7RrBGFHdVpyCQOyLkdX2tQQYlhhdNl7ao40pHixtK-vg1vscM-GOv7DU401fb1_WK8p7jqzCNvvM7JimwysGYixd1nP-9hD/s320/CatTail_by++Keith+Lanpher.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352154104172302194" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 153);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Gatos sigilosos, silenciosos, hacia abajo</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Al tanto de la pausada mirada fija entre las tuberías</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sin parpadear</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Sin moverse, como pensativos penetrantes</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Queriendo adivinar que estás pensando.</span> <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />© Mary Estrada - 27 de Junio 2009</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-71952327037645748832009-05-30T18:14:00.004-04:002009-05-30T18:20:16.763-04:00<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Vision from the Blue Plane-Window</span></span><br />by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Ernesto Cardenal</span><br /><br />[translated by Jonathan Cohen]<br /><br />In the round little window, everything is blue,<br />land bluish, blue-green, blue<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> (and sky)<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> everything is blue<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">blue lakes and lagoons<br /></div> blue volcanoes<br />while farther off the land looks bluer<br /> blue islands in a blue lake.<br />This is the face of the land liberated.<br />And where all the people fought, I think:<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> for love!<br /></div>To live without the hatred<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> of exploitation.<br /></div>To love one another in a beautiful land<br />so beautiful, not only in itself<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> but because of the people in it,<br /></div>above all because of the people in it.<br />That's why God gave us this beautiful land<br />for the society in it.<br />And in all those blue places they fought, suffered<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> for a society of love<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> here in this land.<br /></div><br />One patch of blue looks more intense...<br />And I thought I was seeing the sites of all the battles there,<br />and of all the deaths,<br />behind that small, round windowpane<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> blue<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> all the shades of blue.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-78178239823622422372009-05-24T08:31:00.002-04:002009-05-24T08:34:05.532-04:00Kitty Daisy & Lewis: Going up the country ♪<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GxW3Ed7GrhQ&hl=es&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GxW3Ed7GrhQ&hl=es&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />I'm going up the country, babe don't you wanna go<br />I'm going up the country, babe don't you wanna go<br />I'm going to some place where I've never been before<br />I'm going, I'm going where the water tastes like wine<br />Well I'm going where the water tastes like wine<br />We can jump in the water, stay drunk all the time<br />I'm gonna leave this city, got to get away<br />I'm gonna leave this city, got to get away<br />All this fussing and fighting, man, you know I sure can't stay<br />Now baby, pack your leaving trunk, you know we've got to leave today<br />Just exactly where we're going I cannot say, but We might even leave<br />the USA 'Cause there's a brand new game that I want to play<br />No use of you running, or screaming and crying<br />'Cause you've got a home as long as I've got mineUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-75848244239762726092009-05-18T18:44:00.003-04:002009-05-18T18:46:48.038-04:00Porque te tengo y no<br />porque te pienso<br />porque la noche está de ojos abiertos<br />porque la noche pasa y digo amor<br />porque has venido a recoger tu imagen<br />y eres mejor que todas tus imágenes<br />porque eres linda desde el pie hasta el alma<br />porque eres buena desde el alma a mí<br />porque te escondes dulce en el orgullo<br />pequeña y dulce<br />corazón coraza<br /><br />porque eres mía<br />porque no eres mía<br />porque te miro y muero<br />y peor que muero<br />si no te miro amor<br />si no te miro<br /><br />porque tú siempre existes dondequiera<br />pero existes mejor donde te quiero<br />porque tu boca es sangre<br />y tienes frío<br />tengo que amarte amor<br />tengo que amarte<br />aunque esta herida duela como dos<br />aunque te busque y no te encuentre<br />y aunque<br />la noche pase y yo te tenga<br />y no.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc9c5cWMIwDNN8iZSMXcXgYEwqzYTmsSGgZOdDH4M9QDTtYR50J9ruAwXpkH0jQSldXkPinnROlCwTlOvXFlWSnVn2m7UDbR0MePwYcZDTXE4vO_MHLIyHIrd_eNT-2PMdOsgw/s1600-h/MarioBenedetti.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc9c5cWMIwDNN8iZSMXcXgYEwqzYTmsSGgZOdDH4M9QDTtYR50J9ruAwXpkH0jQSldXkPinnROlCwTlOvXFlWSnVn2m7UDbR0MePwYcZDTXE4vO_MHLIyHIrd_eNT-2PMdOsgw/s200/MarioBenedetti.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146511252400553266" border="0" /></a>[Corazón Coraza<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">- Mario Benedetti</span>]Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-35344389330344833352009-05-13T19:31:00.017-04:002009-06-01T17:30:28.832-04:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;" ><span><span style="color: rgb(215, 182, 103);"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">BLANCO</span> <span style="color: rgb(215, 182, 103);"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">CÁRDENO</span><br /></span></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><span><span style="color: rgb(215, 182, 103);"><span style="color: rgb(215, 182, 103);"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-family:arial;" >Ráfagas delirantes. Alteridad de una cuidada transmisión de sentires entrelazados, ausentes de fronteras, desperdiciables para hacerme mayor ante ti. Vamos vestidos de armario, nominados por nuestra propia resolución esperando el tiempo que haga falta. Juntos en el escenario de espigas de la tarde. Absortos de las miradas. Tú, nívea legítima heredera y yo triste arlequín violáceo que canta siempre a destiempo. Y repetimos el camino sin cansancio del discurso de los detalles. Como el deseo de desear.</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><span><span style="color: rgb(215, 182, 103);"><span style="color: rgb(215, 182, 103);"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Aron Gia - 14 de Mayo 2009</span></span></span></span></span></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-55370263815234194802009-04-28T18:12:00.007-04:002009-05-10T06:51:44.145-04:00<span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Cuando te pienso</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">se diluyen las calles,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">las plazas, las ciudades;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">caen los mapas y sus coordenadas</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">y emerges tú</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">entre el desarraigo.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Prescindo de parentescos</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">de la formalidad de los años,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">de los colores, del gesto,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">y emerges tú</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">en la palabra que sigue a la siguiente,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">en las ganas de perpetuar</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">un himno a capella.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">[CUANDO TE PIENSO por </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Lola Crespo Rodríguez</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">]</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-67114995111152790002009-04-27T19:17:00.006-04:002009-04-28T19:09:46.638-04:00Cabbage Patch Bar<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTqe9vGqIzZT8d8nPfmbhIO4TJ6Oplt7-IyxDlAJbN1KOhJAFk7B8yo_mwDCW66Uwov_8EeIOivUdv_q3gxyGg3jXA4tLkexx4FZOu5TfPhyphenhyphen-p3L5fuX7oHrZnUihg6PeCJM9/s1600-h/Cabbage+Patch+Bar.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 90px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTqe9vGqIzZT8d8nPfmbhIO4TJ6Oplt7-IyxDlAJbN1KOhJAFk7B8yo_mwDCW66Uwov_8EeIOivUdv_q3gxyGg3jXA4tLkexx4FZOu5TfPhyphenhyphen-p3L5fuX7oHrZnUihg6PeCJM9/s320/Cabbage+Patch+Bar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329880947564890098" border="0" /></a>At 4-way stops intersection of of CR 415 and Pioneer (I think) but definitely in the middle of horse farms and woods all about. Everyone has to stop... then in varying degrees of ROARING away they go -motorcycles, pick-ups, horses and cows being hauled, hugh bales of hay balanced in little trucks, dogs riding like kings, BIG men and skinny ladies in sunglasses at the wheel of BIG trucks, AND the dump trucks, haul trucks, county trucks, gas and recycle semis and regular cars, vans, suvs of all shapes, sizes and colors. What a racket. Non-stop. I counted on average 25 vehicles per minute as I sat on the bench near the door into the Cabbage Patch looking at the puddle of my car's coolant fluid spreading over their front 'yard'.<br /><br />OK, back up.<br /><br />No, I am just going forward with my saga. The tow would be here in an hour. And hour and a half tops. The car sat out back. Its rattling, scraping and spewing over. Roosters and chickens free roaming about the building and across the road. Crowing as they peck for lunch. Then a small white roo proceeds to cross the road, stops half way to strut, spread his wings and crow loudly before running across. And there is almost no end to the traffic on 415... Maybe 10-15 seconds breaks.<br /><br />12:30 and two customers come in on bikes -real dudes! Another dude comes out and gets on an ancient tractor that looks like it should be in a museum, starts it up and off he goes down the road to home, I presume. He has a very long braid hanging down his back. The two Bud drinker dudes come out and sit down at the picnic table near me.<br /><br />WHERE are you Enterprise Towing? It's been an hour.<br /><br />I can't tell what the dudes are saying 'cause my hearing aids are turned off. Even if they were on, I couldn't hear for the road-roar. Two more roosters proceed to cross the slower traffic road. One runs, the other saunters halfway then runs. One dude goes inside, one still outside. Awkward. Good, second dude is back and off they roar on their cycles...<br /><br />This is going to be a long day and I involuntarily will help stimulate the economy. An hour later, I am home, the monster-car is parked awaiting another tow on Monday since only 14 miles of towing is free. And I am very much enjoying peaceful quiet.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Joan Bell</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-10416301944698337022009-04-26T16:38:00.005-04:002009-04-28T19:02:11.909-04:00<span style="color: rgb(184, 177, 122); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >No lo olvides, poeta.</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(184, 177, 122); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >En cualquier sitio y época</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(184, 177, 122); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >en que hagas o en que sufras la Historia,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(184, 177, 122); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >siempre estará acechándote algún poema peligroso.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(184, 177, 122);font-size:85%;" >Heberto Padilla - Fuera del juego (1968)</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-22487313012536330412009-04-26T15:44:00.064-04:002009-06-01T17:33:26.861-04:00POR MIS VENAS<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 153);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.theispot.com/search/index.cfm?fuseaction=portfolioSearchAction&artistID=a2500&SearchParameter=artistID&newSearch=yes" target="_blank">© Little Red Dress by DarkDP</a></span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJbqd91SQM14Vvjd69uixFgb9MBvO1pGw-ZDnTZJU7Y3bwsjY7KS9-f1g-XP_8gN-itYvsCxlU1pg2bFpA-RzlS7-nypfUPu35j9KNfJA2gjI_QVgtFAuhcEyYaSJYcZD_Cd4R/s1600-h/Little%20Red%20Dress%20by%20DarkDP.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJbqd91SQM14Vvjd69uixFgb9MBvO1pGw-ZDnTZJU7Y3bwsjY7KS9-f1g-XP_8gN-itYvsCxlU1pg2bFpA-RzlS7-nypfUPu35j9KNfJA2gjI_QVgtFAuhcEyYaSJYcZD_Cd4R/s200/Little_Red_Dress_by_DarkDP.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329099657771533762" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Piensas sin tregua que no era así. Entre actuación y actuación la mejor solución no es configurar las propias contradicciones.<br /><br />Aún soy testigo del contrapunto, </span><span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >si alguien se da cuenta yo no era. </span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Así, surges coqueta, r</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >ojo y piel. Piel y rojo carmes</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >í</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" > tan delirante que has congelado hasta mis venas.</span></span><span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />Y trato </span></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >tímidamente</span></span></span><span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" > de librarme de esa ola sabien</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >do </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >que hay algo familiar en tu piel, quizá ese afán por destruir las máscaras</span></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >. Y es como negar lo innegable, lo inevitable, el rubí de las tardes del tendido, el mar de la sangre de vecinos, las cr</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >ó</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >nicas de </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >páginas rojas eternas de los diarios o </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >las formas en las en que se repart</span></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >en tus afresados labios amurallados que asechan y apuran </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >la ingesta </span></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >del humo común que nos hace tanto daño.<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:lucida grande;" >© Aron Gia - 26 de Abril 2009</span></div></span></div></div></span></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-62574884384476432822009-04-16T21:12:00.044-04:002009-06-03T19:49:26.220-04:00<div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(255, 255, 102);"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);">B E A titud</span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Orbitar entre enigmáticos subterfugios hace permear el metalenguaje ineludible, la abstrusa vida, para entonces reaparecer entre misterios y entresijos.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Quizás, a partir de ese momento, el mimetismo de alquitrana toxicidad cautiva la esperanza cotidiana de tenerte alguna tarde, y otra, y otra, mientras disuasivas reverberaciones de tiempo y discurso bombean imantados sueños.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Muy pronto aparece ensimismada tu perfección cronometrada e invisible, una danza de planetas inevitable, y tu voz inexorable en medio de escarpadas tristezas hace que se dilate en negros mosaicos ese entramado metabolismo, la opinion de latidos de episodios sin pacto.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Tu ser entraña</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >ble y delirante tormento. </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Tus ojazos de mar ineludibles –maravillosa narrativa de chocolates en cubitos que me jode tanto- y los miro y me miran sin atreverme a mirarte.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Entonces yo podría decirte adios y perceptiblemente sería suficiente. Pero la adicción a tu dulzura, a tu aroma de mujer que no lo sabes, a todas aquellas cosas que acumulan tus huesos, tuétanos y estómago siguen estremeciendo mi sangre dilatada.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Y tu, que eres fruto y espirítu aletargado y bienaventurado. Y yo, anonadado, que viajo por senderos de luz desprendida </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >en medio de papeles rotos, juntos anhelamos </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >la </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >í</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >nfima tarde.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >© Aron Gia - 14 de Abril 2009</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-31380125935016917332008-11-11T19:07:00.004-05:002008-11-11T19:23:17.074-05:00<span style="font-size:130%;">I cannot live with you,<br />It would be life,<br />And life is over there<br />Behind the shelf<br /><br />The sexton keeps the key to,<br />Putting up<br />Our life, his porcelain,<br />Like a cup<br /><br />Discarded of the housewife,<br />Quaint or broken;<br />A newer Sèvres pleases,<br />Old ones crack.<br /><br />I could not die with you,<br />For one must wait<br />To shut the other's gaze down —<br />You could not.<br /><br />And I, could I stand by<br />And see you freeze,<br />Without my right of frost,<br />Death's privilege?<br /><br />Nor could I rise with you,<br />Because your face<br />Would put out Jesus',<br />That new grace<br /><br />Glow plain and foreign<br />On my homesick eye,<br />Except that you, than he<br />Shone closer by.<br /><br />They'd judge us — how?<br />For you served heaven, you know,<br />Or sought to;<br />I could not,<br /><br />Because you saturated sight,<br />And I had no more eyes<br />For sordid excellence<br />As Paradise.<br /><br />And were you lost, I would be,<br />Though my name<br />Rang loudest<br />On the heavenly fame.<br /><br />And were you saved,<br />And I condemned to be<br />Where you were not,<br />That self were hell to me.<br /><br />So we must keep apart,<br />You there, I here,<br />With just the door ajar<br />That oceans are,<br />And prayer,<br />And that pale sustenance,<br />Despair!</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7sP7IVJFK50I9OlArGI_2CaPC0FOpsLCfE-Op7C2Wet1C3-w1XtaQhEqWtPVa3M211-BwgKqDwqEVFJPyJcptUGhJVtoNVff0isZrwlm9WWhVTNv9PYos3Bf6jK8UcVz_3sO/s1600-h/emily-dickinson.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7sP7IVJFK50I9OlArGI_2CaPC0FOpsLCfE-Op7C2Wet1C3-w1XtaQhEqWtPVa3M211-BwgKqDwqEVFJPyJcptUGhJVtoNVff0isZrwlm9WWhVTNv9PYos3Bf6jK8UcVz_3sO/s200/emily-dickinson.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267557519227625202" border="0" /></a>["I cannot live with you",<span style="font-weight: bold;"> Emily Dickinson</span> - Poems, Mabel L. Todd and T.W. Higginson, eds., 1890, and Poems, T.W. Higginson and Mabel L. Todd, eds., 2nd series, 1891.]Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-17324321165364079352008-11-11T18:57:00.001-05:002008-11-11T19:03:37.294-05:00<span style="font-size:130%;">[...]<br />Je me dis : dans trois jours<br />tu auras sept ans.<br />Je me le disais pour arrêter<br />la sensation de tomber hors<br />du monde tournant et rond<br />dans l’espace froid, bleu-noir.<br />Mais je sentis : tu es un <em>je</em>,<br />tu es une <em>Elizabeth</em>,<br />tu es l’une d’entre <em>eux</em>.<br />Pourquoi faut-il que tu sois l’une d’eux ?<br />A peine si j’osais regarder<br />et voir ce que c'était que j’étais<br />[...]<br />Je sus que rien de plus étrange<br />n’avait jamais eu lieu, que rien<br />de plus étrange n’aurait jamais lieu<br />[...]</span><br /><br /><br />(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Elizabeth Bishop</span>, Dans la salle d’attente, in Géographie III, traduction de Claude Mouchard , Linda Orr et Alix Cléo, Roubaud, Circé, 1991, p. 19.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-43896549337663059812008-10-20T06:52:00.010-04:002008-11-11T19:23:45.357-05:00I can see a "C " over the sea...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjL5KWKyPTT-syAqt8ILnhgE9Kjbj0DO9k5Cf5msK4kuLzS1Qrj2nNoYH9nbjygcel6S8qxZzeFSjlv32z73E_KI0JRAtL9h1WCVNxjtaH-sUO67J9-A2Sh-hIN7i3_VW4Kj-/s1600-h/northpolesunmoon02ys7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjL5KWKyPTT-syAqt8ILnhgE9Kjbj0DO9k5Cf5msK4kuLzS1Qrj2nNoYH9nbjygcel6S8qxZzeFSjlv32z73E_KI0JRAtL9h1WCVNxjtaH-sUO67J9-A2Sh-hIN7i3_VW4Kj-/s320/northpolesunmoon02ys7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267558876639374514" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />L</span></strong>a Luna y el Sol vivían desde hace mucho tiempo en la Tierra. El Sol era ardiente y la Luna bastante fría. Y por esta razón los dos no se entendían bien.<br /><br />Cierto día la Luna tomó la decisión de separarse de su compañero el Sol. Buscó una soga bien larga y subió al cielo para caminar por allí durante siglos y siglos. Un día el Sol se preguntó con curiosidad: "¿Qué está haciendo la Luna en el cielo? ¿Qué cosas maravillosas habrá visto?". Y se decidió a hacer lo mismo que la Luna, trepar por una soga al cielo y quedarse allí para siempre. Pero arriba en el firmamento continuaban enojados.<br /><br />La Luna no quiso caminar con el Sol y escogió entonces la noche para sus correrías, dejando el día para el Sol.<br /><br />Pronto la Luna se aburrió de caminar sola y sin compañía. Se acordó de una buena amiga, una campesina, con la que siempre se reunía en la Tierra. Y una noche la llamó y le dijo: "Oye, querida amiga, ¿sabes que el firmamento es como la Tierra, un gran terreno de sembrado? Echa los frijoles que guardas en tu casa como semillas al cielo y verás cómo crecen".<br /><br />Y la buena amiga echó los frijoles que tenía en todas direcciones. Pero, ¡qué sorpresa! Antes de nacer y echar raíces, los frijoles se encendieron la primera noche en el firmamento y desde entonces continuaron encendiéndose todas las noches.<br /><br />Los frijoles se transformaron en estrellas que acompañan desde entonces a la Luna en su recorrido por el cielos ●</div><p align="left">"La Luna y el Sol" (Anónimo) </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-13388089762324277122008-10-04T05:22:00.002-04:002008-10-04T05:28:02.182-04:00Jarabe de Palo - La Mari de Chambao: Déjame Vivir ♪<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/01JQe00XHPI&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/01JQe00XHPI&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-30647083227363305492008-10-01T11:24:00.009-04:002008-10-01T18:10:03.218-04:00<span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Un vaso de vino entre las flores:</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">bebo solo, sin amigo que me acompañe.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Levanto el vaso e invito a la luna:</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">con ella y con mi sombra seremos tres.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Pero la luna no acostumbra beber vino,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">y mi perezosa sombra sólo sabe seguirme.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Festejemos, con mi amiga luna y mi sombra esclava,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">mientras aún es primavera.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">En las canciones que entono vibran rayos lunares;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">en la danza que ensayo mi sombra se aferra y deshace.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Los tres juntos, antes de beber, holgábamos;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">ahora, ebrios, cada cual va por su lado.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">¡Regocijémonos muchas horas todavía,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">en nuestro extraño festín inanimado,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">para encontrarnos al fin en el Rio de las Nubes!</span><br /></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTSuwsvAt59ry3-tKwyAnu8YjAmg-LICxJ_ymXXYtMl-TBbV_FILQo9ZAVWgaKM6mBxXGJqe2PMvh377xJLxxBv5WPs3G_t1KS2JX4Bnte-kk14p1LWKOElXpNC1vYp3aSw2pT/s1600-h/Li+Po.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252207877450226050" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 111px; height: 141px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTSuwsvAt59ry3-tKwyAnu8YjAmg-LICxJ_ymXXYtMl-TBbV_FILQo9ZAVWgaKM6mBxXGJqe2PMvh377xJLxxBv5WPs3G_t1KS2JX4Bnte-kk14p1LWKOElXpNC1vYp3aSw2pT/s200/Li+Po.jpg" width="126" border="0" height="153" /></a> <span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">["Mientas bebo, solo, a la luz de la Luna" por <strong>LI TAI PO</strong>]</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-54931494705963013572008-10-01T10:53:00.004-04:002008-10-01T11:03:40.997-04:00In the Quiet Land, no one can tell<br />if there's someone who's listening<br />for secrets they can sell.<br />The informers are paid in the blood of the land<br />and no one dares speak what the tyrants won't stand.<br /><br />In the quiet land of Burma,<br />no one laughs and no one thinks out loud.<br />In the quiet land of Burma,<br />you can hear it in the silence of the crowd<br /><br />In the Quiet Land, no one can say<br />when the soldiers are coming<br />to carry them away.<br />The Chinese want a road; the French want the oil;<br />the Thais take the timber; and SLORC takes the spoils...<br /><br />In the Quiet Land....<br />In the Quiet Land, no one can hear<br />what is silenced by murder<br />and covered up with fear.<br />But, despite what is forced, freedom's a sound<br />that liars can't fake and no shouting can drown.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPwVQ94D8JEUgSlq5D36afCYgWvVtFylCQjgkQDYCboONE7G2hlSGidBjrRJQKJL-VNms_LA9GfhdjDtr99T6haiuDHria7o7qtJ7uu-GeoQCOg7UFHloG-RKFe6Qd7bUfpO25/s1600-h/Daw+Aung+San+Suu+Kyi.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252201018224900002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 104px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px" height="172" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPwVQ94D8JEUgSlq5D36afCYgWvVtFylCQjgkQDYCboONE7G2hlSGidBjrRJQKJL-VNms_LA9GfhdjDtr99T6haiuDHria7o7qtJ7uu-GeoQCOg7UFHloG-RKFe6Qd7bUfpO25/s200/Daw+Aung+San+Suu+Kyi.jpg" width="118" border="0" /></a> ("In The Quiet Land" by <strong>Daw Aung San Suu Kyi</strong>)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-42175045115939440902008-09-26T16:34:00.009-04:002008-10-01T11:47:57.428-04:00C H I N A R Á S<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center"><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">© Cartoon by Filibuster</span><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxO1ESTEawjSGXcN7Y_NpVF17OVHTRCbS03ZOFpQzrCKzkToAOD4gBAO1gt16lg2jyqOs7SDE246QPyyeayURjj7ae5bAnApfsO37wnzt8fIjhesBTdjwMZll877S_erRmYZAA/s1600-h/Weak+support+by+Filibuster.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250298895869219874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 254px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 210px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxO1ESTEawjSGXcN7Y_NpVF17OVHTRCbS03ZOFpQzrCKzkToAOD4gBAO1gt16lg2jyqOs7SDE246QPyyeayURjj7ae5bAnApfsO37wnzt8fIjhesBTdjwMZll877S_erRmYZAA/s320/Weak+support+by+Filibuster.gif" border="0" /></a></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ></span> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" >Ay China, te extraño. Te extraño entre mis pijamas rotas. Encima del espejo y bajo mis sábanas. Por los rincones históricos de aquella ventana. En la huella de tus antiguos trenes, en las hojas marchitas de los árboles, en el cauce del Gran Río, en la Plaza Roja. Cuando mi pastilla de jabón resbala por la tina quedando rezagada entre pensamientos de Confucio, te extraño más y más. Y es que tus ojos rasgados distinguen el amarillo exhumado de tu piel donde diminutos habitantes acarician tu rostro. Como consuelo mantengo una dinastía de pececillos dorados luchando por tus murallas. Pero merodea la negra nube solitaria de tus mercados y barqueros, me abraza el pensamiento del recuerdo represivo de tus cabellos lisos satinados como el espeso café decorado con churros. ¿Y tus labios acaramelados entre servilletas rotas de la azotea? Es la promesa elegiaca de terrazas y arte sobre la cuerda floja.<br /><br />Mil mujeres fantasmales me atraviesan exhausto, voy languideciendo como hilera de cuchillos enjugando diariamente la pena de no tenerte. Y tu cuerpo diminuto de bambú exhala el incienso procesional de ídolos contenidos por siglos en los templos.<br /><br />Lenguaje incomprensible, griterío oscuro, aventura de cavernas laberínticas milenarias, tu humedad chapotea mis entrañas como un verdugo. Lo mismo que Sodoma y Gomorra, perros con lanzas enraízan mi ser languideciendo cada noche. A lo mejor, la página de este libro no quede escrita. Aunque mis películas, mi MP3 y mis zapatillas deportivas son "Made-in-China".<br /></div></span></div></div><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ><br /><em><strong>© Aron Gia - 26 Septiembre 2008</strong></em></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-6648272297011456322008-09-26T08:23:00.004-04:002008-09-26T08:59:53.080-04:00Hayehudim: Hazman Shelah - הזמן שלך ♪<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MNavfViXGTk&hl=es&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MNavfViXGTk&hl=es&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />LYRICS<br /><br /><span class="lyrics" style="font-size:130%;">איך תאמרי לו ילדה<br />אמרת אין לאן ללכת<br />הוא לא ידע<br />ואת כמו הרוח שותקת<br /><br />והזמן שלך<br />אם רק תתני לו הוא יברח<br />והזמן שלך<br />אם רק תגעי ישאר איתך<br /><br />אם זה הזמן שלך<br />המעגל אליו נקשרת לקראתך מונח<br />אם זה הזמן שלך<br />אז כשתלכי הדלת תיפתח<br />ולא הוא לא ישכח<br /><br />תבטחי בו ילדה<br />ונשארת בגפו נתמכת<br />הוא בשלך<br />ואת באותו הקצב<br /><br />והזמן שלך<br />אם רק תתני לו הוא יברח<br />והזמן שלך<br />אם רק תגעי ישאר איתך</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-46223455587952002742008-09-21T14:12:00.036-04:002008-09-22T15:49:42.091-04:00Glu, glu, glu<div style="text-align: center;" align="center"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">© Kiss the Fish by Lazyfish73</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb344xcpYJOnmmz2JvfDVoKO45x49uXSLO84MfmriIhgYB_Yw0Ky3ztAmfjsYwmt0gj2mWQG_mkfaP_U1P5ciejXqYBD9OU1C4PaNSotOC3Jo_jrShoj1UkLMc_BMOZ9PnrRFh/s1600-h/Kiss+the+Fish+by+Lazyfish73.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb344xcpYJOnmmz2JvfDVoKO45x49uXSLO84MfmriIhgYB_Yw0Ky3ztAmfjsYwmt0gj2mWQG_mkfaP_U1P5ciejXqYBD9OU1C4PaNSotOC3Jo_jrShoj1UkLMc_BMOZ9PnrRFh/s320/Kiss+the+Fish+by+Lazyfish73.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248558692688620642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Veo</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Los miedos</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Los sueños</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Tu amordazada belleza</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Tenue la voz negra de sangre</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Ocultada por decires e improperios</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Entre armas mágicas</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Encarnada</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Invariablemente hermética</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Queriendo decir algo sin decirlo</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Entretejida</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Hilvanando deseos solapados de intransigencia.</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Aturdida</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Deshabitada</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Afilas tus dientes</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Olfateas el aroma de vainilla en agujas hipodérmicas</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Succionas las almas</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Reescribes todo lo que tocas.</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Incómodo</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >En este asiento</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Anhelo avanzar entre tus piernas</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Por tus cabellos de miel</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Sin interpretarte</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Mientras desnuda acaricias tus llaves</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >O mis manos</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Solitaria</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Intransigente</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Con la respiración agitada</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Orillada sin tiempo</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Mientras contemplas animales draconianos en la pared.</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >En vertiginosa caída vertical</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Me paseo entre palabrotas y m</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >á</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >s canciones</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Como un pez húmedo al compás de 4:40</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Ahogándome en invisibles burbujas de polvo</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Hinchado por el antídoto del dolor de tu perenne sueño.</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Carcomido por el viaje</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >A punto de partir<br />Mi equipaje es el eco de tus ojazos negros<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Sin más sortilegio que tu hermética sonrisa</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Sin saber que decir a veces</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >A la espera de un nuevo quiz</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >á</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >s de Septiembre.</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><em style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"><strong>© Aron Gia - 21 Septiembre 2008</strong></em></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-2612664923137114392008-09-09T18:09:00.004-04:002008-09-12T05:50:08.197-04:00S O P H I AY desde entonces, esperándote de ágape en ágape sentí que eras mía. Mis labios pronunciando tu nombre, nombre de esperanza y sabiduría. Diminuta. Radiante e inquieta, de olor e imágenes flexibles. La mirada brillante y la sangre en tus venas. Tus hazañas cotidianas entre jersey congelada engalanada mordiendo mi alma en rutinas matinales. Doliéndome, sin llamarte, sonriéndome con tus gestos infinitos de conexiones sensoriales imposibles, la vieja interrogante de cambiar de posición y aplaudir con tus parpados mis entrañas. El hola y los besos tremolantes. Deseándote lejana. Caracoleando la pugna constante. Por eso la criptografía punzante, subjetiva crónica, por eso el olor intenso de tus brazos lechosos de piel canela. Con ojos de vidrio escrutándome sin desvelos, irme contigo deslumbrado por tus caderas de piedra. Morirme contigo en un inútil combate donde no cedes. Amada, atrapada estremecida, comiéndome la vida.<br /><br /><em><strong>© Aron Gia - 7 Septiembre 2008</strong></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-42425218124037071432008-09-09T17:05:00.011-04:002008-09-21T15:32:18.844-04:00HILOS<div style="text-align: center;" align="center"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 204);">© Pink Treads by Angelita</span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIhAzUNhLUSmjIWrDTMuiCQMQ65m5XP8itDzgNKYtXErxMpR5CWLhutSk4tHFG9qb2c1XNTuNrK1DRi_TOJHSOpKTMj_9r_Ejd_jzmo9Nc7ssebBxEHzIOLmZ3wooH2ExPn2vx/s1600-h/Pink+Threads+by+Angelita.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245072051651959714" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIhAzUNhLUSmjIWrDTMuiCQMQ65m5XP8itDzgNKYtXErxMpR5CWLhutSk4tHFG9qb2c1XNTuNrK1DRi_TOJHSOpKTMj_9r_Ejd_jzmo9Nc7ssebBxEHzIOLmZ3wooH2ExPn2vx/s200/Pink+Threads+by+Angelita.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Difuminados en la sacralizada geometría, enganchado como una marioneta repleta de emociones hiladas a través de la tramoya de algoritmos siderales, no deseo rasgar mis vestiduras. Lo perfecto de tu alma visceral no lo merece y la influencia de ésta en mí. Solo quiero solventar esta profunda sed de correspondencia mutua, de llenarte de voz, trasmutados efectos, de verbo delirante bajo la plenitud de un guión impecable de perennidad. Y la devoción de escucharte.<br /><br /><em><strong>© Aron Gia - 6 de Septiembre 2008</strong></em> </div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-28940163392049193292008-09-02T07:47:00.008-04:002008-09-09T15:27:31.834-04:00LOOK MYSELF<div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">At the seashore there is a purity and sweetness in all this. I just lay there in the overgrown field listening to your rich mix of melody. I feel intoxicating, pleasing and without a weak link in sight uncapping bottles of wine. You make me feel like there is no other place I would rather be. No re-writes, no erotic changes. Afternoons at large, chorus of blind fish, golden lizards flashing on my feet, and your fine body tattooing my skin. No one really hears.<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><em><strong>© Aron Gia - September 2, 2008</strong></em></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-54492021178880061542008-08-26T06:36:00.006-04:002008-09-09T15:39:26.762-04:00L U Z<div style="text-align: center;" align="center"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">© Photography by Yuri Matte</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQ_0oCTQYMSj_HDzCuWT7t4x85YVLj9ks5AOD6iqGqI8nuacRcBweuZ6jBWXn7mVv2zBlcqNZXHqkq5N_JeJvwHc_Ae2Dp0ZQTyyXI1-xcl65WsSinSYMMQqJ2glRNnESEGUC/s1600-h/Photography+by+Yuri+Matte.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 295px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQ_0oCTQYMSj_HDzCuWT7t4x85YVLj9ks5AOD6iqGqI8nuacRcBweuZ6jBWXn7mVv2zBlcqNZXHqkq5N_JeJvwHc_Ae2Dp0ZQTyyXI1-xcl65WsSinSYMMQqJ2glRNnESEGUC/s320/Photography+by+Yuri+Matte.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238769637863719538" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-weight: normal;">De enganche visceral la luz tangencial que ahonda en el heraldo<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-weight: normal;">Transpira por los poros pasión y desgarro nocturno.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-weight: normal;">Esa luz cegadora</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-weight: normal;">Luz camaleónica</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-weight: normal;">Estéril de lo huidizo.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-weight: normal;">Luz delgada que proyecta lo inagotable e inextinguible del reflejo.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-weight: normal;">Como el trigo que se disipa</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-weight: normal;">Intrínseca</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-weight: normal;">Resbala y reparte gotitas moribundas de la nada.<br /><br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" >© </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(192, 192, 192); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" >Aron Gia - 26 de Agosto 2008</span></div></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-48905553519447156032008-08-26T06:27:00.007-04:002008-08-26T06:42:48.280-04:00INTANGIBLE<span style="font-size:130%;">La serpentina entrechoca adormeciendo los hábiles dedos. Raíces arcaicas enmarcan el origen mágico de sus eslabones vibrantes, resuenan mientras acarician y se acoplan, aprietan y estremecen para finalmente juntarse en fragmentos celestiales.<br /><br />Morada espiritual de creyentes, sus componentes son territorio inaccesible y su lenguaje exorciza virtudes danzantes. Sus muros guardan divinidades, lo más pagano de un templo de taciturnas entrañas con bestias silentes que descienden a abrevar en sus aguas para saciar la sed antigua de los amantes.<br /><br />Y aquellos sonidos visuales sinuosos declaran una palabra mística sobre la experiencia extrema donde cada gesto es el eco del centro. Cascabeles, fractura de campanas, esporas oníricas capaces de disipar un opaco hermetismo. El hechizo.<br /><br />No existe lo efímero en su envoltorio imperceptible, pero palpar tu deseado talismán es retar una legión rugiente de fantasmas de menta.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >© </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Aron Gia - 24 de Agosto 2008</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22288001.post-46613111464499951742008-08-18T20:40:00.011-04:002008-08-18T21:00:54.238-04:00Hayehudim Unplugged - Shelanu ♪<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OhnmiNcJDVo&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OhnmiNcJDVo&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />LYRICS<br /><br />Hashanim she'avru lakchu li takoa'ch<br />Hine' ani kvar pochedet lachshov<br />Hayamim shelanu ein bam margo'a<br />Ulai Elohim menase' laazov<br />Veyesh sheroim et ze<br />Veyesh shenotim lachshov<br />Shehakol sagur ve'ein davar shekvar yaazor<br />Maaminim baze<br />Ad sheshokim bachol<br /><br />Ve'im yesh sham el echad<br />Az ani lo yodaat lama<br />Baleilot ani levad<br />Lo shalachta li af echad<br />Sheyavo elai<br />Ki im yesh sham el echad<br />Az ani lo yodaat kama<br />Od leilot esbol levad<br />Lo shalachta li af echad<br />Af echad<br /><br /><br />The years that have passed dried my energy <br />Here I am. <br />Afraid even to thing <br />Our days, they have no serenity <br />Maybe god is tryng to leave <br />And there are the ones who see that <br />There are the ones who tend to think <br />That all is shut and there is nothing that could help us <br />Believe in it until they sink in the sand <br />And if there is a god I dont know why <br />In the nights I am alone <br />You haven't sent no one that will come to me <br />And if there is a god <br />Then I dont know how many night I will suffer alone <br />You haven't sent no one <br />No oneUnknownnoreply@blogger.com