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night wandering alone stops me ...

FULL POWERS

A write open sea, to the street,

in full sun, where I can sing,

night wandering alone stops me

but its disruption pick space, pick

shadow for a long time.

black wheat grows

night while my eyes look

prairie and from dawn to dusk I keys,

seek in the dark locks and I

doors opening to the sea broken

to fill cabinets with foam.

I never tire of going and returning, I

to death with a stone,

I never tire of being and nonbeing,

I never tire of being and nonbeing.

I sometimes wonder if where

if father or mother or mountain

duties inherited mineral

threads on

an ocean and I know that I and I, because I

and singing because I sing, and because I sing.

Nothing explains what happens

when I close my eyes and circle

as between two submarine channels,

one takes me to die in its branches

and another song sung for me.

So I am composed of

and as the sea

assaults the reef with salty white capsules

and portrays the stone with the wave, as well as

death surrounds me

window opens in my life and fully

paroxysm I sing.

the full light path in the shade

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Full powers A dry elm, Antonio Machado

My heart is waiting, another miracle of spring ... ____________________________________________________________________________


Antonio Machado wrote these verses of hope in 1912 after becoming sick with TB Leonor in their temporary stay in Paris. The doctor advised them to return to Soria, where the fresh air would facilitate their recovery. Despite initial improvement, Leonor deteriorated and died.

"Oh, what death was a broken wire between the two!"

the end of the road from the main square towards the church of Nuestra Señora del Espino, is dry elm singing Machado. Eight days after the death of Leonor, the last of it in Soria, the poet traveled the route with the unbearable memory of his wife.

few meters beyond the elm tree in the cemetery, you can visit the grave of Eleanor . (SOURCE luthieryotuve )

DRY AN ELM

The old elm tree split by lightning and his half
rotten
with April showers and May sun
some green leaves have emerged .

Elm Hill centennial
lapping the Duero!
yellow moss will stain white crust
the trunk decayed and dusty.

will not, which
singing poplars guarding the road and the shore, inhabited by brown
nightingales. Army ants


row is climbing it, and deep inside
hatched gray spider webs.

Before you down, elm del Duero,
the woodcutter with his ax, and you become a carpenter
mane hood spear
car or wagon yoke;
before red at home, tomorrow,
ardas in some miserable hut,
the edge of a road;
before uprooting you a whirlwind
and broken the breath of the white mountains,
before the river to the sea
push you through valleys and canyons,
elm, I write in my portfolio
the grace of your growing green industry. My heart hopes

also to the light and to life,
another miracle of spring.

. . .

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last song, Miguel Hernandez ...

... let me hope ...

ULTIMA CANCION

Pintada, not empty:

my house is painted color

great passions and tragedies.

crying will return where it was carried

with its deserted table, with its ruined

bed.

bloom kissing on pillows.

and around

bodies raise the sheet

its intense nightlife

vine, fragrant.

Hatred

cushions behind the window.

will claw smooth.

Let me hope.

"The man lurking"

1938/1939