tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24196928022187055192012-01-26T11:27:20.596-08:00Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comBlogger2971100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-49330964941380414042012-01-26T11:17:00.000-08:002012-01-26T11:17:46.913-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="240" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mdOvxcFKUMg" width="320"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=es&amp;sl=en&amp;u=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piano_Concerto_No._5_(Beethoven)&amp;ei=GqUhT7irD4PpOZbwjcgI&amp;sa=X&amp;oi=translate&amp;ct=result&amp;resnum=4&amp;sqi=2&amp;ved=0CDsQ7gEwAw&amp;prev=/search%3Fq%3Dconcierto%2Bde%2B%2Bbeethoven%2B%2B%2B%2BPiano%2BConcerto%2BNo.%2B5%2Bin%2BE%2Bflat%2B%2522Emperor%2522,%2BOp.%2B73%26hl%3Des%26biw%3D1366%26bih%3D673%26prmd%3Dimvns">Piano Concerto No. 5 in E flat "Emperor", Op. 73</a>&nbsp;</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp;Adagio un poco mosso</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ludwig_van_Beethoven">Beethoven</a></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-4933096494138041404?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-31465909535678440652012-01-25T04:38:00.000-08:002012-01-25T04:40:22.013-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"Ven ...y cierra tras de ti las puertas..."</em></strong></span><br /><br /><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="240" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Pjk7dX_PaYw?rel=0" width="320"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Du bist die Ruh / You are repose/Tú eres calma</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Der Friede mild /Gentle peace/agradable paz </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Die Sehnsucht du /You are the yearning/eres mi anhelo</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Und wass sie stillt /and what stills it/y lo que lo sostiene.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Ich weihe dir / Full of joy and pain/ Lléname de pena y gozo</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Voil Lust und Schmerz / I consecrate to you/yo me consagro a ti</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Zur Wohnung hier / To be your dwelling here/sean tu morada</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Mein Aug und Herz / My eyes and heart/&nbsp;mis ojos y&nbsp;mi corazón</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Kehr ein bei mir /Come into me/ entra en mí </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Und schliebe du /and quietly close/y cierra en silencio</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Still hinter dir / the gate/la puerta</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Die Pforte zu / behind you/tras de ti.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Treib andern Schmerz / Drive all other pain/Aparta los dolores</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Aud sieser Brust! / from this breast /de mi pecho</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Voll sei dies Herz /Let this heart be full/permite a este corazón</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Von deiner Lust / of your joy/llenarse de tu alegría.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Dies Augenzelt / The temple of my eyes/ El templo de mis ojos</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Von deinem Glanz / is illuminated/ está iluminado</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Allein erhellt / By your radiance alone/por tu resplandor</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Oh full es glanz! / Oh fill it wholly!/Oh, llénalo hasta rebosar!</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://www.biografiasyvidas.com/biografia/s/schubert.htm">Schubert</a></span></em></strong><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><br /><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-3146590953567844065?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-32185368333493104992012-01-24T12:58:00.000-08:002012-01-24T12:59:20.693-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>" ...Y esos que nunca sonrieron al sol..."</em></strong></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="260" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/fngyZ6HiaSk?rel=0" width="320"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><br /><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Ruh’n in Frieden alle Seelen, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Die vollbracht ein banges Quälen, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Die vollendet süßen Traum, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Lebensatt, geboren kaum, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Aus der Welt hinüberschieden: </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden!</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><br /><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Die sich hier Gespielen suchten, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">öfter weinten, nimmer fluchten, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">wenn vor ihrer treuen Hand </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">keiner jeden Druck verstand: </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle die von hinnen schieden, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden!</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><br /><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Liebevoller Mädchen Seelen, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Deren Tränen nicht zu zählen, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Die ein falscher Freund verließ, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Und die blinde Welt verstieß </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle die von hinnen schieden, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden!</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><br /><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Und der Jüngling, dem, verborgen, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Seine Braut am frühen Morgen, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Weil ihn Lieb’ ins Grab gelegt, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Aus sein Grab die Kerze trägt: </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle die von hinnen schieden, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden!</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><br /><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle Geister, die, voll Klarheit, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Wurden Märtyrer der Wahrheit, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Kämpften für das Heiligtum, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Suchten nicht der Marter Ruhm: </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle die von hinnen schieden, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden!</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><br /><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Und die nie der Sonne lachten, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Unterm Mond auf Domen wachten, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Gott, in reinen Himmelslicht, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Einst zu sehn von Angesicht: </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle die von hinnen schieden, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden!</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><br /><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Und die gern im Rosengarten</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Bei dem Freudenbecher harrten,</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Aber dann, zur bösen Zeit,</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Schmeckten seine Bitterkeit:</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle die von hinnen schieden,</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden!</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><br /><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Auch die keinen Frieden kannten, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Aber Mut und Stärke sandten </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Über leichenvolles Feld </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">In die halbentschlaf’ne Welt: </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle die von hinnen schieden, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden!</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><br /><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Ruh’n in Frieden alle Seelen, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Die vollbracht ein banges Quälen, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Die vollendet süßen Traum, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Lebensatt, geboren kaum, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Aus der Welt hinüberschieden: </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden!</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">**</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Totes les ànimes descansin en pau,<br />les que han passat per terribles suplicis,<br />les que han finit en un dolç somni,<br />les sadolles de vida, les que a penes nasqueren,<br />aquest món han abandonat:<br />Totes les ànimes descansin en pau!<br /><br />Les que aquí companyonia cercaren,<br />les que sovint ploraren i mai renegaren,<br />quan el prémer de llur mà lleial<br />per ningú fou entès:<br />Tots els que d'aquí marxaren,<br />Totes les ànimes descansin en pau!<br /><br />Ànimes de donzelles plenes d'amor,<br />de qui les llàgrimes no es poden comptar,<br />per un amant infidel abandonades,<br />i que aquest món orb ha repudiat:<br />Tots els que d'aquí marxaren,<br />Totes les ànimes descansin en pau!<br /><br />I el fadrí, al qui d'amagat,<br />la seva promesa, de bon matí<br />- perquè el seu Amor jau en el sepulcre-<br />una espelma a la seva tomba porta:<br />Tots els que d'aquí marxaren,<br />Totes les ànimes descansin en pau!<br /><br />Tots els esperits que, plens de lucidesa,<br />màrtirs de la veritat esdevingueren,<br />per la santedat lluitaren<br />i la glòria no cercaren:<br />Tots els que d'aquí marxaren,<br />Totes les ànimes descansin en pau!<br /><br />I aquells que al sol mai somrigueren,<br />i, sota la lluna, les espines vetllaren,<br />per, en la més pura llum celestial,<br />poder veure Déu cara a cara:<br />Tots els que d'aquí marxaren,<br />Totes les ànimes descansin en pau!<br /><br />I els que, de grat, en jardins de roses,<br />el calze de les delícies esperaren<br />i que llavors, en terrible moment,<br />la seva amargor tastaren:<br />Tots els que d'aquí marxaren,<br />Totes les ànimes descansin en pau!<br /><br />També els que mai la pau conegueren,<br />però que força i coratge enviaren<br />per damunt camps plens de cadàvers<br />envers el món mig adormit:<br />Tots els que d'aquí marxaren,<br />Totes les ànimes descansin en pau!<br /><br />Totes les ànimes descansin en pau,<br />les que han passat per terribles suplicis,<br />les que han finit en un dolç somni,<br />les sadolles de vida, les que a penes nasqueren,<br />aquest món han abandonat:<br />Totes les ànimes descansin en pau!</em></strong></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;"></span></em></strong>***</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Rest in peace, all souls<br />who have had done with anxious torment,<br />who have had done with sweet dreams<br />who, sated with life and hardly born,<br />have departed from this world:<br />all souls rest in peace!<br /><br />Those who only sought for comradeship here,<br />more often wept but never fled<br />when no one was there to press<br />their faithful hand with an understanding look:<br />all who have parted from here,<br />all souls rest in peace!<br /><br />Maiden souls, full of love,<br />whose tears cannot be counted,<br />whom a false friend has abandoned,<br />and the blind world has disowned;<br />all who have parted from here,<br />all souls rest in peace!<br /><br />And the youth, to whom secretly<br />in early morning, his bride goes,<br />(for Love lies in the grave)<br />to carry away the extinguished taper:<br />all who have parted from here,<br />all souls rest in peace!<br /><br />All the souls, who, full of clarity,<br />became martyrs to Truth,<br />struggling for sacred faith<br />but seeking not the martyr's crown:<br />all who have parted from here,<br />all souls rest in peace!<br /><br />And those who never smiled at the sun,<br />keeping watch on the thorns beneath the moon,<br />to see God in the pure heavenly light<br />and look him just once in the face:<br />all who have parted from here,<br />all souls rest in peace!<br /><br />And those happy ones in the rose garden<br />tarrying with their joyous cups,<br />but then, in one horrible moment,<br />tasting the bitter dregs at last:<br />all who have parted from here,<br />all souls rest in peace!<br /><br />And those who knew no peace<br />but still had courage and strength to give<br />on fields strewn with corpses<br />in a world half asleep:<br />all who have parted from here,<br />all souls rest in peace!<br /><br />Rest in peace, all souls<br />who have had done with anxious torment,<br />who have had done with sweet dreams<br />who, sated with life and hardly born,<br />have departed from this world:<br />all souls rest in peace!</em></strong></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;"></span></em></strong>****</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;"><a href="http://home1.swipnet.se/~w-18046/schubs.html">Schubert</a></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-3218536833349310499?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-55055944627843739372012-01-23T14:07:00.000-08:002012-01-23T14:12:35.876-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"Oh arte...en cuántas horas sombrías..."</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="260" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/H9TlAOKCmaQ?rel=0" width="320"></iframe></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Du holde Kunst, in wieviel grauen Stunden,<br />Wo mich des Lebens wilder Kreis umstrickt,<br />Hast du mein Herz zu warmer Lieb' entzunden,<br />Hast mich in eine beßre Welt entrückt!<br /><br />Oft hat ein Seufzer, deiner Harf' entflossen,<br />Ein süßer, heiliger Akkord von dir<br />Den Himmel beßrer Zeiten mir erschlossen,<br />Du holde Kunst, ich danke dir dafür!</em></strong></span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">**</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">La música</span></em></strong><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em> </em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Oh, arte benévolo, en cuántas horas sombrías,<br />cuando me atenaza el círculo feroz de la vida,<br />has inflamado mi corazón con un cálido amor,<br />me has conducido hacia un mundo mejor!<br /><br />Con frecuencia se ha escapado un suspiro de tu arpa,<br />un dulce y sagrado acorde tuyo<br />me ha abierto el cielo de tiempos mejores.<br />¡Oh, arte benévolo, te doy las gracias por ello!</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/An_die_Musik">An Die Musik</a></span></em></strong></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://www.epdlp.com/compclasico.php?id=1127">Schubert</a></span></em></strong></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-5505594462784373937?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-29915748157416358352012-01-22T23:02:00.000-08:002012-01-22T23:06:17.699-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">"Quedo te imploran mis canciones..."</span></em></strong><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="240" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/h7dQ1Tvd1Fo?rel=0" width="320"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Leise flehen meine Lieder <br />Durch die Nacht zu dir;<br />in den stillen Hain hernieder,<br />Liebchen, komm zu mir!<br /><br />Flüsternd schlanke Wipfel rauschen<br />in des Mondes licht,<br />des Verräters feindlich Lauschen<br />Fürchte, Holde, nicht.<br /><br />Hörst die Nachtigallen schlagen?<br />Ach! sie flehen dich,<br />mit der Töne süssen Klagen<br />flehen sie für mich.<br /><br />Sie verstehn des Busens Sehnen,<br />kennen Liebesschmerz,<br />Rühren mit den Silbertönen<br />jedes weiche Herz.<br /><br />Lass auch dir die Brust bewegen,<br />Liebchen, höre mich,<br />Bebend harr ich dir entgegen!<br />Komm, beglücke mich!<br /><br />**</em></strong></span></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666;">Serenata</span><br /><br />Quedo te imploran mis canciones<br />a través de la noche.<br />¡Abajo, en la tranquila arboleda,<br />amada, ven allí a mi lado!<br /><br />Murmurantes, esbeltas copas susurran<br />a la luz de la luna;<br />del traidor el acecho hostil<br />no temas, tú, amada.<br /><br />¿Oyes gorjear a los ruiseñores?<br />¡Ay! Ellos te imploran.<br />Con el sonido de dulces quejas<br />imploran por mí.<br /><br />Comprenden el anhelo del pecho,<br />conocen el dolor del amor,<br />conmueven con los argentinos sonidos<br />a todo tierno corazón.<br /><br />Deja también conmoverse tu pecho,<br />amada, escúchame;<br />¡Trémulo aguardo el encuentro!<br />¡Ven, hazme feliz!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franz_Schubert">Schubert</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></em></strong></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2991574815741635835?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-17654363906890434332012-01-21T00:43:00.000-08:002012-01-21T05:50:19.038-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on">&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="240" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/WgZTWZligHE?rel=0" width="320"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Verdes são os campos, <br />De cor de limão: <br />Assim são os olhos <br />Do meu coração. </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Campo, que te estendes <br />Com verdura bela; <br />Ovelhas, que nela <br />Vosso pasto tendes, <br />De ervas vos mantendes <br />Que traz o Verão, <br />E eu das lembranças <br />Do meu coração. </span></em></strong><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"> </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Gados que pasceis <br />Com contentamento, <br />Vosso mantimento <br />Não no entendereis; <br />Isso que comeis <br />Não são ervas, não: <br />São graças dos olhos <br />Do meu coração.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">**</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999;"><strong><em>Música: <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jos%C3%A9_Afonso">Jose Afonso</a> sobre un poema de </em></strong></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lu%C3%ADs_de_Cam%C3%B5es">Luís de Camões</a></em></strong></span> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div align="center"></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-1765436390689043433?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-76314084194197574282012-01-11T00:06:00.000-08:002012-01-11T05:18:54.395-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="24" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/fl2WJdn3qOE?rel=0" width="320"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>É melhor ser alegre que ser triste<br />Alegria é a melhor coisa que existe<br />É assim como a luz no coraçao<br />Mas pra fazer um samba com beleza<br />É preciso um bocado de tristeza<br />Senao nao se faz um samba nao<br /><br />Fazer samba nao é contar piada<br />E quem faz samba assim nao é de nada<br />O bom samba é uma forma de oraçao<br />Porque o samba é a tristeza que balança<br />É a tristeza tem sempre uma esperança<br />De um dia nao ser mais triste nao<br /><br />Poe um pouco de amor numa cadencia<br />E vai ver que ninguém no mundo vence<br />A beleza que tem um samba nao<br />Porque o samba nasceu lá na Bahia<br />E se hoje ele é branco na poesia<br />Ele é negro demais no coraçao</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Letra: <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vin%C3%ADcius_de_Moraes">Vinícius de Moraes</a></em></strong></span><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">Música: <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baden_Powell_(m%C3%BAsico)">Badem Powell</a></span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">Cantante: <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bebel_Gilberto">Bebel Gilberto</a></span></em></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-7631408419419757428?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-34854799783744848662012-01-02T04:49:00.000-08:002012-01-18T13:47:02.673-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wqxr6G7at4c/TwLZWfSLAbI/AAAAAAAAIfA/ZrFr5Mysd7E/s1600/IMG_6140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wqxr6G7at4c/TwLZWfSLAbI/AAAAAAAAIfA/ZrFr5Mysd7E/s320/IMG_6140.JPG" width="247" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: left;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;Lisboa no es la ciudad que conocimos en 1999. A su prosperidad se le ha añadido ese valor en alza de la globalización que la ha convertido en una ciudad más, cuyo centro<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>ha sido, desgraciadamente, absorbido por las imperiosas firmas comerciales.</span></strong></span></i><br /><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;">&nbsp;¡Qué pena no reencontrar la vieja Lisboa! Aquella ciudad saturada de olores añejos, de desconchadas fachadas cargadas de historia y de vientos atlánticos, de hombres de boina y mujeres de luto, de ese sabor antiguo que respiraban sus calles, sus plazas, sus iglesias, sus comercios y sus gentes cuando las ciudades españolas ya&nbsp; los habían perdido; de todo aquello que le daba personalidad y la hacía única. ¿Te acuerdas? Cuando la vimos por vez primera, ¡Aquella ciudad detenida en los años sesenta! Luché para romper tus miedos y te arrastré a caminarla.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span></span></strong></span></i><br /><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span></span></strong></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;">Desfogué con ella aquel primer fuego que me<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>ardía dentro como su poderoso río desdeña el presente frente a un pasado glorioso de conquista, aventura y riquezas a golpe de remo y <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>pasión humana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></strong></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: left;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;">Su cara limpia ha perdido encanto. Hay que merodear en sus aledaños para encontrar el aire y las esencias del fado. Sin posibilidad de acercarmiento a los barrios viejos, no he encontrado el rastro que busco cuando me acerco a un lugar.&nbsp; </span></strong></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;">Mi vida también ha cambiado. Pero al contrario de lo que le sucede a&nbsp; esta ciudad,&nbsp; con el paso de los años,&nbsp;&nbsp;afloran de nuevo&nbsp;viejas inquietudes en mi fachada y me confieren una imagen&nbsp;especial y única. Es un agradable reencuentro.&nbsp;</span></strong></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;">Ando la ciudad, mis pasos&nbsp;miran atrás sin "saudade", no hay tristeza ni&nbsp;soledad,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> son&nbsp;</span> no-dolentes y de una ligereza "nova e bela"; los ojos descansan en un atardecer en el que el sol es sepultado en<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>horizonte atlántico y deslizo en las aúreas aguas del Tejo,&nbsp;deseos para mi gente...&nbsp;un buen&nbsp;</span></strong></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;">&nbsp;viaje, el de 2012. </span></strong></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></strong></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-3485479978374484866?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-36732111840414146202012-01-01T07:39:00.000-08:002012-01-01T07:40:37.495-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">"Un viaje de mil millas empieza con un paso" </span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</span><span style="color: #666666;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lao-Ts%C3%A9"> Lao Tsé</a></span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-3673211184041414620?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-21129988668248014882011-12-31T11:15:00.000-08:002011-12-31T11:36:54.334-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Um desejo, dois, três.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div align="right" dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div align="left" dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div align="left" dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="24" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/65JXzQqhR40?rel=0" width="325"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Haja o que houver<br />eu estou aqui<br />haja o que houver<br />espero por ti.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><br />Volta no vento ó meu amor<br />volta depressa por favor.<br />Há quanto tempo já esqueci<br />porque fiquei longe de ti.<br />Cada momento é pior<br />volta no vento por favor.<br /><br />Eu sei, eu sei<br />quem és para mim<br />haja o que houver<br />espero por ti.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madredeus">Madredeus</a></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2112998866824801488?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-62610140590273158002011-12-26T22:34:00.000-08:002011-12-26T22:34:15.150-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Un Dios ha nacido. Otros mueren. La realidad<br />que no ha venido ni se ha ido: un cambio de error.<br />Tenemos ahora otra eternidad,<br />y siempre lo pasado fue mejor.<br />Ciega, la ciencia trabaja en el inútil suelo,<br />loca, la Fe vive el sueño de su culto.<br />Un nuevo Dios es una palabra o un nuevo sonido<br />no busques ni tampoco creas: todo está oculto.<br /><br />(? 1922)</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fernando_Pessoa">Fernando Pessoa</a></span></em></strong></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-6261014059027315800?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-81638680216624295712011-11-30T15:20:00.000-08:002011-11-30T15:30:26.391-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="280" src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/vF3_UGE97ok?rel=0" width="360"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Nacqui all'affanno e al pianto,<br />Soffri tacendo il core;<br />Ma per soave incanto<br />Dell'età mia nel fiore,<br />Come un baleno rapido<br />La sorte mia cangiò.<br /><br />No, no, no, no, tergete il ciglio :<br />Perchè tremar, perché?<br />A questo sen volate,<br />Figlia, sorella, amica<br />Tutto trovate in me.<br /><br />Non più mesta accanto al fuoco<br />Starò sola a gorgheggiar, no!<br />Ah fu un lampo, un sogno, un gioco<br />il mio lungo palpitar.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666;">**</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Nací para sufrir, para llorar, </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>sufrió callando el corazón; </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>pero como por encanto </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>en la flor de mi juventud, </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>con la velocidad del rayo </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>mi suerte cambió.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; No, no. Enjugad las lagrimas, </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¿Por qué temblar, por qué? </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Venid a mis brazos; </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>hija, hermana, amiga, </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>todo eso en mí tendréis.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Oh, instante! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Nunca más junto a la lumbre</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp;triste y sola he de cantar. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Ah, mi largo padecer </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ha sido un relámpago,&nbsp; </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>un sueño, un juego.</em></strong></span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Cenicienta_(Rossini)">La Cenerentola</a></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gioachino_Rossini">Rossini</a></span></em></strong></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>***</em></strong></span><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></em></strong></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8163868021662429571?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-43395243101211979242011-11-27T12:16:00.000-08:002011-11-27T12:28:35.525-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Després de trenta anys sense escoltar-la. Aquesta cançò, quin regal&nbsp; avui!</em></strong></span></span><br /><br /><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="215" src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/aq9yhyFMcmY?rel=0" width="320"></iframe><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Corren les nostres ànimes com dos rius paral·lels. <br />Fem el mateix camí sota els mateixos cels. <br /><br />No podem acostar les nostres vides calmes; <br />entre els dos hi ha una terra de xiprers i de palmes. <br /><br />En els meandres grocs de lliris, verds de pau, <br />sento, com si em seguís, el teu batec suau. <br /><br />I escolto la teva aigua tremolosa i amiga, <br />de la font a la mar, la nostra pàtria antiga. <br /><br />Lletra: <span style="color: #666666;">Màrius Torres</span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Música: <span style="color: #666666;">Lluís Llach</span></em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-4339524310121197924?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-52378079127694754752011-11-12T05:50:00.000-08:002011-11-12T07:00:03.767-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="lletra"><br /></div><div class="lletra"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8QOn8OJjzaE/Tr54NMYhSjI/AAAAAAAAH0g/_HI3P-1Rnpo/s1600/Mi+sombra+por+Tamil+Nadu.+%252710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8QOn8OJjzaE/Tr54NMYhSjI/AAAAAAAAH0g/_HI3P-1Rnpo/s320/Mi+sombra+por+Tamil+Nadu.+%252710.JPG" width="261" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="lletra" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Lentament comença el cant<br />i un clam de joia ressona per tots els àmbits,<br />lentament l'ombra dels anys<br />obre camins que el desig converteix en símbols,<br />tot és clar enllà del mar<br />quan el llevant anuncia la llum volguda,<br />pluja d'or, domini encès,<br />solemnement proclamem l'esperança nova.<br /><br />Cap secret no ens és secret<br />perquè amb les mans hem sabut conjurar el malastre.<br />Tot allò que hem volgut ser<br />ara els senyals a la pedra ens ho anuncien,<br />veu de tots, càlida veu,<br />fonda complanta de somnis i de miratges,<br />amb el cor ple de delit<br />escoltarem novament la veu dels oracles.<br /><br />No hi haurà desert ni buit<br />si amb els dits de vent recollim tanta llum dispersa,<br />si amb els mots i el sentiment<br />sabem bastir l'aixopluc de tots els designis,<br />convertits per tant d'amor<br />en l'horitzó que dibuixen ocells i veles,<br />cara al mar sempre vibrant<br />que amb el seu ritme incessant ens empeny a créixer.<br /><br />Pel pendent d'aquesta llum<br />que en els sentits descobreix la seva bellesa,<br />tot teixint el pont de mar<br />que amb el seu blau lluminós obre noves rutes,<br />podem fer del vell dolor<br />un gran amor que ens uneixi en el goig de viure,<br />des del temps que hem conquerit<br />fins al futur que entre tots hem de fer possible.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />**</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://www.escriptors.cat/autors/martipolm/pagina.php?id_sec=972">Martí i Pol</a></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><div class="lletra"><br /></div></em></strong></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-5237807912769475475?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-20297659369665895262011-11-10T08:33:00.000-08:002011-11-10T10:51:59.391-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><br /><div align="center"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="24" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/q5By6XucMaU?rel=0" width="320"></iframe></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Ejercito el olvido.</em></strong></span></span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"> <span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Dejo marchar el amor antes de haberlo poseído.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Un sueño, una quimera, lo que pudo haber sido y no fue. </em></strong></span></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"> <br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Estás ligado a este dueto entre Dido, reina de Cartago y Eneas, héroe de Troya. Ligado para siempre. Porque este otoño mi música eres tú. Porque la primera vez que escuché “Nuit d’ivresse” fue una noche templada de&nbsp;octubre, cuando extrañaba tu compañía hecha de palabras y de halagadora voz. </em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Una música profunda que me fue cantada cuando nuestro anhelo aún era el mismo y rompía barreras de distancia y de tiempo. Cuando no existía pasado ni futuro sino presente, reposando unos segundos, en medio de tu noche y de mi noche. Cuando se confundían los deseos de ambos con una realidad intemporal. Todo lo nuestro hecho de oscuridad, soledad, silencios, palabras, suspiros, ilusiones, sonrisas y un mirarse a través de los velos que nos separaban. </em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Despierta, en sueños, te soñaba..</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Me abandonas para seguir tu camino hacia el destino que te fue marcado, la augurada Italia. </em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Y ahora he de decirte adiós, como Dido, sin querer desprenderme de ti. Pero yo no tomaré venganza eterna. No has sido digno de mí, a pesar de tus gestas. </em></strong></span></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Tu reino no es Cartago.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Y como Reina, silencio mi voz y ato mis manos para que no corran a tu encuentro.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>El hilo que me une a ti se desata suavemente y desaparecerás en la nebulosa de mi vida sin haber brillado.</em></strong></span> <br /><br />"<strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Los_troyanos">Les troyens</a>"</span></em></strong></span></em></strong><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">&nbsp;</span></em></strong></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hector_Berlioz">Berlioz</a></span></em></strong></span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2029765936966589526?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-85645251422817514062011-11-03T12:22:00.000-07:002011-11-03T13:06:16.142-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bj5F00HApRI/TrIbNAEDyiI/AAAAAAAAH0M/ahPBquswZfI/s1600/IMG_3659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bj5F00HApRI/TrIbNAEDyiI/AAAAAAAAH0M/ahPBquswZfI/s320/IMG_3659.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Otra noche indomable. </span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">¡Qué bien aprendida tengo esta lección! No resistencia</span></em></strong><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">.</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Como un barquichuelo de papel, </span></em></strong><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">con la quilla húmeda,&nbsp;</span></em></strong><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">&nbsp;me voy dejando llevar hacia la&nbsp;orilla del día.</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8564525142281751406?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-21227596122164444952011-11-01T09:38:00.000-07:002011-11-01T09:39:25.246-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gs5vRl0gmf8/TrAfqDxmZ8I/AAAAAAAAHz4/E3DTNip86r4/s1600/IMG_4512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gs5vRl0gmf8/TrAfqDxmZ8I/AAAAAAAAHz4/E3DTNip86r4/s320/IMG_4512.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>One autumn evening at dusk</em></strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2122759612216444495?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-87651010739548354942011-10-31T10:57:00.000-07:002011-10-31T10:58:35.032-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="245" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4Xe2Rft62Kg" width="360"></iframe></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Una música con colores de otoño</em></strong></span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Satie. Gymnopédie nº 1.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8765101073954835494?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-14224865358255027482011-10-30T02:31:00.000-07:002011-10-30T11:40:20.019-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Esta noche mis sueños se han poblado de palabras escritas. Palabras claras, arriesgadas, algunas ardientes, otras livianas. Han manchado de tinta negra mis ojos cerrados. Han conseguido doblegar las horas a su<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>peculiar declaración. Y &nbsp;yo, sin voluntad, las repetía, como una letanía, una y otra vez.</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0jrMJiHajKQ/Tq2YHlIu4xI/AAAAAAAAHzk/06xBoVBepGg/s1600/Sue%25C3%25B1o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0jrMJiHajKQ/Tq2YHlIu4xI/AAAAAAAAHzk/06xBoVBepGg/s320/Sue%25C3%25B1o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-1422486535825502748?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-88400124113982868902011-10-27T05:07:00.000-07:002011-11-03T14:20:06.636-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="24" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7vJLRVmeJBk?rel=0" width="360"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><em><b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #999999; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,</span></b></em><b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #999999; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomon'.</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">where me and my true love were ever wont to gae</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'.</span></em><br /><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">O ye'll tak' the high road and I'll tak the low road,</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">An' I'll be in Scotland afore ye;</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">But me and my true love will never meet again</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'.</span></em><br /><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen,</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">On the steep, steep side o' Ben Lomon',</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">Where in purple hue the Hieland hills we view,</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">An' the moon comin' out in the gloamin'.</span></em><br /><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">The wee birdies sing and the wild flow'rs spring,</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">And in sunshine the waters are sleepin';</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">But the broken heart it kens nae second spring,</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;">Tho' the waefu' may cease frae their greetin'</span></em></span></i></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p></o:p></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"></div><em><b><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loch_Lomond">Loch Lomon</a></span></b></em><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8840012411398286890?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-22438285936553929382011-10-26T04:36:00.000-07:002011-10-26T04:36:16.575-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"Tenemos dos fuerzas que nos ayudan a vivir: el olvido y la esperanza"</em></strong></span><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://www.blascoibanez.es/biografiabreve.html">Vicente Blasco Ibañez</a></span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2243828593655392938?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-91366172902085350442011-10-25T11:45:00.000-07:002011-10-31T23:29:49.349-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="color: black;"></span><br /><span style="color: black;"></span><br /><span style="color: black;"></span><br /><span style="color: black;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><strong><em>¿Dónde está aquel<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>olor </em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><strong><em>que esparciste un día de estío</em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>por entre los pliegues de mis sueños? <o:p></o:p></span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em> </em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><strong><em>En aquella cuesta entre rocas,</em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> s</span>e refugió&nbsp;&nbsp;para siempre</span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>en mi cabalgadura.</span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br /></div></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-9136617290208535044?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-28885606377529482892011-10-24T12:41:00.000-07:002011-10-24T12:43:23.478-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES;"><strong><em>Abro la ventana. Quiero ver llorar el cielo por mí</em></strong></span><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES;"> </span><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span><br /><br /><span style="color: black;"></span></div><span style="color: black;"></span><br /><span style="color: black;"></span><br /><span style="color: black;"></span><br /><span style="color: black;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"></div></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2888560637752948289?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-36209383975162913172011-10-23T01:39:00.000-07:002011-10-30T11:41:22.901-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XCnBrH_2INs/TpvBfIAdpUI/AAAAAAAAHqM/1JWeUkPckhE/s1600/sheltering_sky_4%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XCnBrH_2INs/TpvBfIAdpUI/AAAAAAAAHqM/1JWeUkPckhE/s1600/sheltering_sky_4%255B1%255D.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">"No se consideraba un turista; él era un viajero. Explicaba que la diferencia residía, en parte, en el tiempo. Mientras el turista se apresura por lo general a regresar a su casa al cabo de algunos meses o semanas, el viajero, que no pertenece más a un lugar que al siguiente, se desplaza con lentitud durante años de un punto a otro de la tierra"</span>&nbsp;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span></span></span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/El_cielo_protector">El cielo protector</a></em></strong></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Bowles"><em><strong>Paul Bowles</strong></em></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>***</em></strong></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-3620938397516291317?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-15757589302904519462011-10-22T02:02:00.000-07:002011-11-24T13:35:22.425-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">“Entonces él la besó. Posó sus labios en los suyos tan de improviso que ella se quedó sin habla, porque ese gesto de acercamiento e intimidad,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>chocó con la conversación convencional<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>que mantenían en<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ese momento y que para nada hacia predecible<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>un gesto como aquel. </span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Fue espontáneo,&nbsp; dulce, cálido, reposado, fugaz y comedido, como si el descansar unos labios sobre&nbsp; los otros fuese la consecuencia lógica entre él y ella,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>una prolongación evidente, lo más natural entre los dos. </span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Dos personas desconocidas que ignoraban todo, la <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>una de la otra, hasta hacía escasamente una hora.</span></em></strong><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #999999;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lo extraño fue despegarse de su tacto y de su sabor a café con leche”</span></em></strong></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></em></strong></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-1575758930290451946?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-33038470720027272032011-10-21T06:40:00.000-07:002011-10-22T07:07:45.355-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;">El sonido de tu ausencia sabe de nuevo&nbsp;a sal; a sal de&nbsp;agua de mar y de lágrimas, a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>atardecer y a luna rielando.</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-3303847072002727203?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-28447735187254768482011-10-20T12:31:00.000-07:002011-10-20T12:32:47.109-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "...incómodos<br />de no sentir el peso de los años".<br />J. Gil de Biedma<br /><br />Son<br />extrañamente hermosos todavía,<br />estos labios de hace ahora tres años<br />y me parece inédito<br />el gesto de tu beso,<br />este llegar aquí cada vez más tranquilo,<br />con la serenidad<br />del que tiene por cómplice la vida<br />y su rutina.<br /><br />Hoy sabemos que entonces,<br />cuando tus veinte años y mi primer abrazo,<br />empezamos por ser<br />sobre todo indecisos: la tímida torpeza<br />de la primera noche<br />y la dificultad <br />con que dejar las manos<br />en el hábito infiel de nuestros vicios.<br /><br />Ahora<br />extrañamente hermoso estar aquí,<br />demasiado a menudo y decididos,<br />incómodo<br />de no sentir el peso de los años<br />aprendiendo contigo la premeditación<br />y escribiendo en tu piel mi alevosía.<br /><br />Porque suele haber bancos donde se espera siempre,<br />aceras que prefieres por costumbre<br />o líneas de autobús al mediodía.<br /><br />Y sin embargo tú<br />reapareces inédita en tu gesto<br />para decirme hoy<br />que le conteste al tiempo y sus preguntas<br />el práctico saber que tienes de mi cuerpo.</em></strong></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Canción de aniversario</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">Luis Garcia Montero</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2844773518725476848?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-32595106556431367792011-10-19T10:31:00.000-07:002011-10-30T11:49:12.200-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OcNOzJXCyxU/Tpu4nZPfyZI/AAAAAAAAHqA/Ge6uLKoMf94/s1600/el-cielo-protector%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OcNOzJXCyxU/Tpu4nZPfyZI/AAAAAAAAHqA/Ge6uLKoMf94/s320/el-cielo-protector%255B1%255D.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">-La puesta de sol es una hora tan triste- dijo ella de pronto.</span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">- Cuando considero el final de&nbsp;un día, de cualquier día, siempre tengo la impresión de que es el final de toda una época. ¡Y el otoño! Podría ser el final de todo -dijo Port-. &nbsp;Por eso detesto los países fríos y me gustan los cálidos, donde no hay invierno, y cuando llega la noche sientes que la vida comienza en lugar de terminar. ¿No te parece?</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">-Si. Pero no estoy segura de preferir los paises cálidos. No estoy segura de que no sea un error escapar a la noche y al invierno y de que si lo haces no tengas que pagarlo de alguna manera.</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">-¡Oh, Kit! Estás loca.</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">&nbsp;...le &nbsp;entrestecía comprobar que, a pesar de tener tan a menudo las mismas reacciones, las mismas sensaciones, nunca llegaban a las mismas conclusiones, porque sus respectivas metas en la vida eran diametralmente opuestas.</span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Se sentaron en las rocas, uno junto al otro, frente a la inmensidad. Kit enlazó su brazo al de Port y apoyó la cabeza en su hombro. El miraba hacia delante; despues suspiró y, finalmente, sacudió<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>lentamente la cabeza.</span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em> </em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Lugares como éstos, momentos como éste eran los que Port mas amaba en la vida; Kit lo sabía y sabía también que los amaba mas si ella estaba presente para compartirlos. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>Y aunque tenía conciencia de que los verdaderos silencios y en los espacios vacíos que conmovían el alma de Port la aterraban, el no podía soportar que se lo recordaran.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Era como si en el<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>hubiera la esperanza siempre renovada de que sería sensible como el a la soledad y la cercanía de las cosas infinitas. Se lo había dicho muchas veces: "Es tu última esperanza" y Kit nunca estaba segura de lo que quería decir. A veces pensaba que Port se refería a su propia esperanza, únicamente si ella era capaz de llegar a ser como era él, el encontraria el camino de vuelta al amor, porque para Port amar significaba amarla a ella. ¡Y hacía tanto tiempo ya que habia desaparecido el amor, toda posibilidad de amor!</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">... </span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">-Sabes -dijo Port, y su voz sonó irreal, como ocurre después de una larga pausa en un lugar perfectamente silencioso-, el cielo aquí es muy extraño. A veces, cuando lo miro, tengo la sensación de que es algo sólido, allá arriba, que nos protege de lo que hay detrás.</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Kit se estremeció ligeramente.</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">-¿De lo que hay detrás?</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">-Sí.</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">-¿Pero qué hay detrás? -preguntó Kit con un hilo de voz.</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">- Nada, supongo. Solamente oscuridad. La noche absoluta.</span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></em></strong></span></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1151692019"> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/El_cielo_protector">"El cielo protector"</a></em></strong></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://www.epdlp.com/escritor.php?id=1492">Paul Bowles</a></span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Verdana&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>***</em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-3259510655643136779?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-18469604618693510512011-10-18T12:53:00.000-07:002011-10-18T12:54:16.816-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999;"></span><br /><div align="left"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Aquello. <br />No eso. <br />Ni <br />-mucho menos- esto. <br />Aquello. <br />Lo que está en el umbral <br />de mi fortuna. <br />Nunca llamado, nunca <br />esperado siquiera; <br />sólo presencia que no ocupa espacio, <br />sombra o luz fiel al borde de mí mismo <br />que ni el viento arrebata, ni la lluvia disuelve, <br />ni el sol marchita, ni la noche apaga. <br />Tenue cabo de brisa <br />que me ataba a la vida dulcemente. <br />Aquello <br />que quizá hubiese sido <br />posible, <br />que sería posible todavía <br />hoy o mañana si no fuese <br />un sueño.</em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">Deixis en fantasma (1992)</span></em></strong></div><div align="left"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%81ngel_Gonz%C3%A1lez">Ángel González</a></span></em></strong></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><br /><div align="left"></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-1846960461869351051?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-56792025772724564912011-10-17T12:50:00.000-07:002011-11-02T10:49:36.349-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><br /><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="24" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mXuzLRVi6qk?rel=0" width="320"></iframe><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #003366;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Con los primeros compases un impulso me sacude el pecho, involuntariamente dos lágrimas caen&nbsp;… abandono el libro que estoy leyendo...</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em> </em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #003366;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Mis ojos se posan en mi cuerpo tumbado. Mi cuerpo dorado por el sol y el mar sobre la cama y frente a la ventana. Desde allí&nbsp; diviso el tamarindo meciéndose con la suave brisa de poniente, el verde alimonado de los pinos, las colinas pobladas de pinos mediterráneos y el mar que,&nbsp;salpicado de minúsculas velas blancas, se&nbsp;desliza reposado allá a lo lejos, en su último extremo&nbsp; y lucha&nbsp;una batalla con el azul del cielo para intensificarse.</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em> </em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #003366;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Un bienestar me recorre y apareces tú en la línea del horizonte. </span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #003366;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Recuerdo tus palabras, la cadencia de tu voz...</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #003366;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Los días de estío llevan tu nombre hilvanado en la orilla de su vestido. Tu deseo escrito en las calmadas y embriagantes noches cuando mi deseo sale a cabalgar…y veo tu mano recorriendo mi cuerpo, tu aliento inspirado con delirio se desliza mezclándose con la brisa tonal de la tarde. Toco tu maravilloso pelo del color de la luna, tan sedoso…</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #003366;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Yo siento, yo contemplo, yo…soy. </span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #003366;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Y me sigo envolviendo con Massenet, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>con una pizca de nostalgia y un rumor de melancolía.</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #003366;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><span style="color: #999999;"><em><strong>Ha comenzado la ausencia.</strong></em></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #003366;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">*</span></em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #003366;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">¡Hace de esto tanto tiempo!¡Hace tanto que lo escribí!</span></em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #003366;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">**</span></em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;">Meditación. <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tha%C3%AFs">Thais</a>.</span></em></strong></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jules_Massenet">Jules Massenet</a></span></em></strong></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="color: #ea9999;"></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-5679202577272456491?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-9515944924264428932011-10-16T21:52:00.000-07:002011-10-30T11:55:26.830-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><h2 class="postTitle" style="color: #666666; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; font-size: small;"><em>...</em></span></h2><h2 class="postTitle" style="color: #666666; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><br /><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></em></span><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; font-size: small;">Así,<br />en ti me quedo,<br />paseo largamente tus piernas y tus brazos,<br />asciendo hasta tu boca, me asomo<br />al borde de tus ojos,<br />doy la vuelta a tu cuello,<br />desciendo por tu espalda,<br />cambio de ruta para recorrer tus caderas,<br />vuelvo a empezar de nuevo,<br />descansando en tu costado,<br />miro pasar las nubes sobre tus labios rojos,<br />digo adiós a los pájaros que cruzan por tu frente,<br />y si cierras los ojos cierro también los míos,<br />y me duermo a tu sombra como si siempre fuera<br />verano,<br />amor,<br />pensando vagamente<br />en el mundo inquietante<br />que se extiende -imposible- detrás de tu sonrisa.</span></em></h2><h2 class="postTitle" style="color: #666666; text-align: left;"><em><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; font-size: small;"> <br />Palabra sobre palabra (1965)<br /></span></em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%81ngel_Gonz%C3%A1lez"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; font-size: small;"><em>Angel González</em></span></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"> </span></span></h2><div class="postTitle" style="color: #666666; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em> <span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></em></div><strong><em></em></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-951594492426442893?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-8954716396942884072011-10-15T04:14:00.000-07:002011-10-15T04:14:43.339-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong>Me irradia de dentro...y se llama sosiego</strong></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>***</em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-895471639694288407?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-47105744245829429002011-10-14T07:39:00.000-07:002011-10-30T11:50:45.250-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>...seguir el camino de tus manos grandes atravesándolo<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>suave...</em></strong></span></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></span></div><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-4710574424582942900?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-48323448733265828692011-10-13T05:32:00.000-07:002011-11-03T14:19:31.641-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="360" height="24" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/uqv5b0UjR4g?rel=0" width="360"></iframe><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong>Wise men say only fools rush in<br />But I can't help falling in love with you<br />Shall I stay<br />Would it be a sin<br />If I can't help falling in love with you<br /><br />Like a river flows surely to the sea<br />Darling so it goes<br />Some things are meant to be<br />Take my hand, take my whole life, too<br />For I can't help falling in love with you<br /><br />Wise men say only fools rush in<br />But I can't help falling in love with you<br />Shall I stay<br />Would it be a sin<br />If I can't help falling in love with you<br /><br />Like a river flows surely to the sea<br />Darling so it goes<br />Some things are meant to be<br />Take my hand, take my whole life, too<br />For&nbsp; Ican't help falling in love with you<br />For I can't help falling in love with you</strong></em></span><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Can't_Help_Falling_in_Love"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Times;">I Cant Help Falling In Love With You</span></em></strong></a><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elvis_Presley">Elvis Presley</a>&nbsp; </strong></em></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong>***</strong></em></span><br /><br /></div><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-4832344873326582869?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-65728471903501823702011-10-12T01:36:00.000-07:002011-10-15T13:28:33.165-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uyJUpTOJ-xQ/Tpnsha0CDiI/AAAAAAAAHgM/puoqWY36QEA/s1600/IMG_3729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uyJUpTOJ-xQ/Tpnsha0CDiI/AAAAAAAAHgM/puoqWY36QEA/s320/IMG_3729.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Amanece</em></strong></span></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong><br /><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-6572847190350182370?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-19660864365766928692011-10-11T05:11:00.000-07:002011-10-30T11:51:04.125-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp;...te divisé, allá&nbsp;lejos, volando contra el viento.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-1966086436576692869?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-80397131467689569952011-10-10T05:34:00.000-07:002011-10-10T05:35:06.736-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Mientras tú existas, <br />mientras mi mirada <br />te busque más allá de las colinas, <br />mientras nada <br />me llene el corazón, <br />si no es tu imagen, y haya <br />una remota posibilidad de que estés viva <br />en algún sitio, iluminada <br />por una luz cualquiera... <br />Mientras <br />yo presienta que eres y te llamas <br />así, con ese nombre tuyo <br />tan pequeño, <br />seguiré como ahora, amada <br />mía, <br />transido de distancia, <br />bajo ese amor que crece y no se muere, <br />bajo ese amor que sigue y nunca acaba. </em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Áspero mundo (1956)</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%81ngel_Gonz%C3%A1lez">Angel González</a></em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><blockquote></blockquote></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8039713146768956995?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-70160388596158008962011-10-09T01:39:00.000-07:002011-10-09T01:39:04.722-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="274" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/D14q9IKUkL0?rel=0" width="360"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-7016038859615800896?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-55152004458284466482011-10-08T05:38:00.000-07:002011-10-08T05:39:05.377-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"Y entonces...sólo tendré que buscar tus ojos"</em></strong></span> </div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-5515200445828446648?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-11509921243065326512011-10-07T06:53:00.000-07:002011-10-07T06:53:55.465-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>A merced de un viento del norte que sopla&nbsp;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>lejano, otoñal, increíblemente azul y oceánico, aunque viene vestido de una calidez dorada como el sol del estío.</em></strong></span> </span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-1150992124306532651?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-39148184208013713102011-10-06T22:58:00.000-07:002011-10-06T23:02:59.235-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Vagan los pensamientos por las lindes de mi cama... En aquel recodo, apoyado en la&nbsp; tarde, ¿Dices que me esperas?</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>***</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-3914818420801371310?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-58088332203688638622011-10-05T05:35:00.000-07:002011-10-05T05:37:30.994-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Como la barca varada, esperando que suba la marea.</em></strong></span></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-5808833220368863862?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-45233817839674339002011-10-04T11:20:00.000-07:002011-10-04T11:27:11.825-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="274" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/AqGGSXYamjY?rel=0" width="360"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Ya sabemos cómo te gusta levantar el brazo y calcular el polo de donde viene el viento,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp;ya hemos disfrutado del estilo que exhibes cuando te marchas corriendo.<br />Ya hemos entendido que eres un alma errante que abandona las casas cuando todos duermen,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp;que te gusta comer cuando hay hambre y dormir si viene sueño.<br />Pero piénsalo bien que después, tarde o temprano, siempre llega el momento<br />cuando se abre como una flor rara el arrepentimiento<br />y entiendes, como si todas las brujas del mundo coincidieran al leerte el futuro,<br />que es cuestión de tiempo que te sorprendas pensando que lo tenías,<br />que yo creía en ti.<br />-<br />Ya sabemos que tres mil aventuras palpitan rabiosas lejos de este rincón,<br />que los guerreros se aburren si no hay un poco de acción.<br />Ya hemos previsto que solo morirás si alguien te clava una daga dorada en el corazón<br />y que donde te entierre una buena gente crecerá un roble fuerte.<br />Y es casi entrañable que olvides tan rápido que siempre llega el momento<br />cuando se abre como una flor amarilla el arrepentimiento.<br />Si lo sabes como si todas las brujas del mundo te estuviesen lanzando un conjuro,<br />una rima ancestral que te hará recordar que lo tenías,<br />que yo creía en ti.<br />-<br />Si al despertar fuese rey, reuniría a las Cortes para incluir en el código penal<br />que se prohíba a la gente ir por el mundo buscando algo que no sepa nombrar.<br />Que el miedo estaría ahí pero, quizá, para variar, aprenderíamos a pasarlo juntos<br />y no te vería nunca más explicándome que bien que estabas cuando lo tenías,<br />cuando yo creía en ti.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="color: #666666;"></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://lafonoteca.net/discos/10-milles-per-veure-una-bona-armadura">10 milles per veure una bona armadura.</a></em></strong></span></div><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manel_(banda)">Manel</a></em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">¿Por qué me recuerda a ti? ¿Por qué me recuerda a mi?</span></em></strong><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></em></strong></span></div><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><br /></em></strong></span><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-4523381783967433900?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-52696747400471038302011-10-03T21:50:00.000-07:002011-10-03T21:50:45.998-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">"Es una idea perfecta encontrar tu sonrisa en octubre"</span></span></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></span></i></b><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-5269674740047103830?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-25427362691862818092011-10-02T06:01:00.000-07:002011-10-02T06:56:42.711-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on">&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on">&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="267" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/NWhinudNSYo?rel=0" width="350"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Al meu xiquet que, ara sí, ja és gran.</em></strong></span></div><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><br />&nbsp;</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2542736269186281809?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-53681442185683427242011-10-01T06:00:00.000-07:002011-10-01T09:53:17.498-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Vessa la tardor dos noms. L'un és un vent que bufa de surest; l'altre és un somni que desafia l'onatge del temps.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong><br /><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-5368144218568342724?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-84316120378275143402011-09-30T08:02:00.000-07:002011-10-01T09:30:29.263-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on">&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on">&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/QERpXO5fDDg?rel=0" width="420"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;">Un bel di vedremo</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Levarsi un fil di fumo sull´estremo </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Confin del mare.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E poi la nave appare.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E poi la nave bianca</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Entra nel porto, romba il suo saluto.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Vedi? E´ venuto!</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Io non gli scendo incontro. Io no. Mi metto</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Là sul ciglio del colle e aspetto, aspetto</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Gran tempo e non mi pesa</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em> La lunga attesa.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E... uscito dalla folla cittadina</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Un uomo, un picciol punto</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>S´avvia per la collina.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Chi sarà? Chi sarà? </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E come sarà giunto </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Che dirà? Che dirà? </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Chiamerà Butterfly dalla lontana.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em> Io senza far risposta </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Me ne starò nascosta</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Un po´ per celia, e un po´ per non morire</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Al primo incontro, ed egli alquanto in pena</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Chiamerà, chiamerà :</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>“Piccina-mogliettina</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>olezzo di verbena”</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>I nomi che mi dava al suo venire.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Tutto questo avverrá, te lo prometto.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Tienti la tua paura,- io con sicura</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em> Fede lo aspetto.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madama_Butterfly">Madama Butterfly</a>.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giacomo_Puccini">&nbsp;Puccini</a></em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong><br /><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8431612037827514340?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-20515683116681513502011-09-13T12:18:00.000-07:002011-10-30T15:13:08.561-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div align="center"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="245" src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/PZxsJHq5JbI?rel=0" width="320"></iframe></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><pre><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; line-height: 20px;"><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">Campanas de Bastabales,<br />cando vos oio tocar,<br />mórrome de soidades.<br /><br />Cando vos oio tocar,<br />campaniñas, campaniñas,<br />sin querer torno a chorar.<br /><br />Cando de lonxe vos oio,<br />penso que por min chamades<br />e das entrañas me doio.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dóiome de dór ferida,<br />que antes tiña vida enteira<br />e hoxe teño media vida.</span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Só media me deixaron<br />os que de aló me trouxeron,<br />os que de aló me roubaron.<br /><br />Non me roubaron, traidores,<br />¡ai!, uns amores toliños,<br />¡ai!, uns toliños amores.<br /><br />Que os amores xa fuxiron,<br />as soidades viñeron...<br />De pena me consumiron.<br /><br />Campanas de Bastabales,<br />cando vos oio tocar,<br />mórrome de soidades.</span></span></span></em></strong></span></pre></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Rosalía de Castro</em></strong></span></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2051568311668151350?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-68922153305493994202011-08-27T11:57:00.000-07:002012-01-01T13:17:12.780-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div align="center" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><br /></div><div align="center" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="292" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/cg1wDc9JVB4?rel=0" width="350"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Y salimos al camino. </span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">¡Cuántos fueron los ríos que encontramos a nuestro paso! Fueron muchos. Algunos los vadeamos, otros los cruzamos por magníficos puentes romanos o medievales. Otros nos ofrecieron su ribera, un momento, para descansar. En otros disfrutamos de un baño reparador <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>¡Qué alivio refrescar los pies en sus cristalinas aguas! ¡Y oír el rumor del agua entre las piedras! ¡O escuchar lo que <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>susurra el río al alma! </span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Recuerdo un río en especial. Sé que ya has adivinado<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>cuál es. El río&nbsp;<a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rio_Lima">Lima. </a></span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">El "pequeño" Lima&nbsp; que aplacó mi cansancio&nbsp;en la mañana. El "inmenso y acogedor" Lima al atardecer. Las dos <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>pensamos lo mismo, que era un momento grande, demasiado hermoso para olvidar. Cómo dramatizabas de bien mi anécdota con el río a todo aquel peregrino <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>que encontrábamos en el camino. Y yo siempre sonreía. Y lo haré siempre, cada vez que <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>me refresques la memoria como las aguas del Lima me refrescaron los pies, el cuerpo entero y el alma. Y fue gracias a ti, que&nbsp; insististe y quisiste compartir aquel baño, que llegué al albergue nueva.</span></em></strong></span></span><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp;</em></strong></span></o:p></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Los dos protagonistas de <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diarios_de_motocicleta_(pel%C3%ADcula)">"Diarios de <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>motocicleta"</a> recorren el camino en ciclomotor. Nosotras, las protagonistas de nuestro diario personal, andamos esos días&nbsp;con nuestros enseres a cuestas.</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em> </em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Cada una trazó su mapa, saliendo<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>de mares distintos y opuestos de nuestra geografía. Una, de orillas del <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mar_Mediterr%C3%A1neo">Mediterráneo</a>; la <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>otra, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>de orillas del <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oc%C3%A9ano_Atl%C3%A1ntico">Atlántico</a>. </span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">En el camino nos esperaban amaneceres y atardeceres, sol y lluvia, cuestas y llanos, ciudades y campos, emparrados de uva y maizales, castaños <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>y eucaliptos, cansancio y descanso, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>lágrimas y risas, soledad y compañía...</span></em></strong></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp; </em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Allí, en <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rates">Sâo Pedro de Rates</a>, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>a la sombra de su imponente <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>iglesia románica, nos vimos por primera vez. Era una tarde de mediados de agosto y caía un sol abrasador. </span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Hicimos camino juntas, hermosa peregrina, aunque ninguna de las dos pretendió en <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>ningún momento que así fuera.&nbsp;</span></em></strong></span></span><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">El camino nos daba a cada momento lo que necesitábamos. Y nos dio la una a la otra, sin más. Podemos afirmar contundentemente que el camino se encargó de reunirnos.</span></em></strong></span></span><br /><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Nuestros pasos nos llevaban por las mismas veredas aunque <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>a ritmos distintos. Cuando nos tropezamos en aquella escalera de <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valen%C3%A7a_(Portugal)">Valença</a> que daba al <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/R%C3%ADo_Mi%C3%B1o">Minho</a>, supimos que estábamos condenadas irremediablemente a llegar juntas a <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santiago_de_Compostela">Santiago</a>. Y ya no nos separamos más.</span></em></strong></span></span><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp;</em></strong></span></o:p></span><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">&nbsp;A veces era yo la que llevaba " tu remo en el mío", otras veces eras tú la que llevabas los remos de las dos.&nbsp;</span></em></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Creo que podemos afirmar&nbsp;que "hemos visto una luz <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>al otro lado del río"</span></em></strong></span></span>.</span></em></strong></span></span><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"> </span></em></strong></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Fue una lección de vida lo que <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>aprendimos. </span></em></strong></span></span></div></span></em></strong></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><span style="color: #999999;"><strong><em>El camino sigue delante de nosotras, con las manos abiertas, dispuesto a que lo recorramos y a ofrecernos lo que ya hemos saboreado en primicia.</em></strong></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><span style="color: #999999;"><strong><em>Así pues, querida Valéria, rema y sonríe.</em></strong></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-6892215330549399420?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-5612667905195187032011-08-26T08:21:00.000-07:002011-09-13T14:40:57.738-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><br /><center><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Eu quero amar, amar perdidamente!<br />Amar só por amar: aqui... além...<br />Mais Este e Aquele, o Outro e toda a gente...<br />Amar! Amar! E não amar ninguém!<br /><br />Recordar? Esquecer? Indiferente!...<br />Prender ou desprender? É mal? É bem?<br />Quem disser que se pode amar alguém<br />Durante a vida inteira é porque mente!<br /><br />Há uma primavera em cada vida:<br />É preciso cantá-la assim florida,<br />Pois se Deus nos deu voz, foi pra cantar!<br /><br />E se um dia hei-de ser pó, cinza e nada<br />Que seja a minha noite uma alvorada,<br />Que me saiba perder... pra me encontrar...</em></strong></span></center><center>&nbsp;</center><center>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp; <a href="http://www.vidaslusofonas.pt/florbela_espanca.htm">Florbela Espanca</a></em></strong></span></center><center>&nbsp;</center><center>&nbsp;</center><br /><div align="left"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Obrigada, Valéria.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span><br /><br /><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-561266790519518703?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-40357888907716206912011-08-23T23:12:00.000-07:002012-01-01T13:16:33.966-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Santiago de Compostela está delante y no puedo imaginar que este camino me conduzca no solo a esta ciudad sino a muchas otras ciudades del mundo...Estoy caminando hacia mi destino, tantas veces soñado y tantas veces negado...Estoy caminando para ver publicada la historia de mi renacimiento.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Prefacio de <span style="color: #666666;">"<a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/El_peregrino">El peregrino de Compostela</a>"</span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paulo_Coelho">Paulo Coelho</a></em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-4035788890771620691?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-68816626806650570922011-08-21T07:43:00.000-07:002012-01-01T13:16:08.269-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>Adiós, ríos; adios, fontes;</strong></span></i></div><div align="center"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>adios, regatos pequenos;</strong></span></i></div><div align="center"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>adios, vista dos meus ollos:</strong></span></i></div><div align="center"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif; font-size: 11pt;"><strong>non sei cando nos veremos.</strong></span></i></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span style="color: #666666;">&nbsp;<a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosal%C3%ADa_de_Castro"> Rosalía de Castro</a></span></span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>El camino está llegando a su fin. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Me deslizo estos días, como los ánades por el <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/R%C3%ADo_Sar">Sar</a> a su paso por <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iria_Flavia">Iria&nbsp; Flavia</a>, dejándome llevar por la corriente.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-6881662680665057092?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-57946961334743513522011-08-16T07:36:00.000-07:002011-08-28T04:24:21.040-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div closure_uid_uo7m6p="121"><br /><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times,&quot;Times New Roman&quot;,serif;"><b><i closure_uid_v3psik="123">"A liberdade é a possibilidade de isolamento. Se te é impossível viver só, nasceste escravo"</i></b></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times,&quot;Times New Roman&quot;,serif;"><b><i closure_uid_uo7m6p="175"><a href="http://amediavoz.com/pessoa.htm">Fernando Pessoa</a></i></b></span></div><div closure_uid_uo7m6p="121"><br /></div><div closure_uid_uo7m6p="121" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span closure_uid_uo7m6p="180" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></i></b></div><div closure_uid_uo7m6p="121" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div closure_uid_uo7m6p="121" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-5794696133474351352?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-12246010526000529302011-08-15T08:58:00.000-07:002012-01-01T13:15:26.276-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em closure_uid_gb1wdt="122">"Babel maravilhosa,&nbsp; O Caminho de Santiago"</em></strong></span><br /><br /><div closure_uid_ngbxcy="168" style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span closure_uid_ngbxcy="167" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div closure_uid_ngbxcy="168" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div closure_uid_ngbxcy="168" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-1224601052600052930?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-77065319781200123342011-08-08T12:14:00.000-07:002012-01-01T13:14:59.816-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><i><b closure_uid_iu42zy="122">Llegando de la metropolitana <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Londres">Londres</a>, esta ciudad a orillas de <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duero">Douro </a>me recibe con un extraño silencio, roto por&nbsp; graznidos de gaviotas.&nbsp;</b></i><br /><br /></div><div style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><i><b closure_uid_iu42zy="134">Dos ciudades atlánticas, dos grandes ríos. Pero la llana y cosmopolita Londres, limpia y educada, con sus 12 millones de habitantes, poco tiene que ver con esta ciudad provinciana de menos de 250 mil.&nbsp;</b></i><br /><br /><i><b closure_uid_iu42zy="135">Aquella se pasea, ésta se escala.&nbsp;</b></i></div><div style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><i><b closure_uid_iu42zy="136">Tras un mes con cadencia anglosajona mi oído no se acostumbra a tanta vocal abierta, fuerte acento y&nbsp; tono inperioso. Sin embargo, a Oporto portuaria, desconchada y vetusta la entiendo más mía y la tomo frugal y ligera como he llegado a ella. </b></i><i><b closure_uid_iu42zy="137">Sueñan sus calles pasado pujante,&nbsp;glorioso, sueño yo un "después" entre sus empedrados.</b></i></div><div style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><i><b closure_uid_iu42zy="138"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oporto">Oporto</a>, con miles de&nbsp; abigarrados ojos&nbsp; <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arte_na%C3%AFf">naif</a>,&nbsp; vive mirándose en las verdes aguas del Douro y sus fachadas ceramistas </b></i><i><b>siguen&nbsp; compitiendo </b></i><i><b closure_uid_iu42zy="139">con el azul profundo del océano.</b></i><br /><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><i><b closure_uid_iu42zy="141">Me gustan las perspectivas de esta ciudad, sus casas, el traquetreo de los tranvias&nbsp; de madera, las ancianas de negro de la cabeza a los pies, la ropa tendida en sus empinadas callejuelas, la devoción que&nbsp; se emana&nbsp; en sus iglesias barrocas y en la forma tradicional de enterrar a sus muertos (una pequeña capilla abierta domingo tarde con un féretro cubierto de flores&nbsp; y unas cuantas mujeres llorosas), un buen vaso de <a href="http://www.google.com/search?source=ig&amp;hl=es&amp;rlz=1G1GGLQ_ESZZ344&amp;=&amp;q=al+otro+lado+del+r%C3%ADo&amp;oq=al+otro+lado+del+r%C3%ADo&amp;aq=f&amp;aqi=g10&amp;aql=&amp;gs_sm=e&amp;gs_upl=1336l6002l0l6744l20l19l0l10l10l0l257l1776l0.2.6l8l0#pq=londres&amp;hl=es&amp;sugexp=gsnosc%2Cn%3D3&amp;cp=6&amp;gs_id=j&amp;xhr=t&amp;q=vino+oporto&amp;pf=p&amp;sclient=psy&amp;rlz=1G1GGLQ_ESZZ344&amp;source=hp&amp;pbx=1&amp;oq=vino+o&amp;aq=0&amp;aqi=g5&amp;aql=t&amp;gs_sm=&amp;gs_upl=&amp;bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.&amp;fp=51a2c714cbd8e400&amp;biw=1366&amp;bih=673">Oporto</a>, unas <a href="http://2.0viajes.com/oporto-la-ciudad-sobre-el-duero/">tripas a moda do Porto</a>, las campanulas azules que extienden su manto apoderándose de la ciudad si las dejan, los barcos surcando el río, los eventuales pescadores y los niños nadando, la música de esta ciudad, mis pasos...</b></i></div><div style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><i><b><br /></b></i></div><i style="color: #999999;"><b><span closure_uid_iu42zy="142" style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">Este año se me niega un verano de sol y mar. Este año persigo una constante, lluviosa, fresca y verde primavera. </span></b></i><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">---</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-7706531978120012334?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-56855300194645618722011-08-01T05:26:00.000-07:002012-01-01T13:14:34.823-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Abandonad, si hace falta, una vida cómoda, aquello que os presentan como una situación con porvenir.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Lanzaos a los caminos.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andr%C3%A9_Breton">André Bretón</a>. "Los pasos perdidos"</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-5685530019464561872?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-14191422130251456962011-07-26T06:45:00.000-07:002012-01-01T13:14:09.043-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vVC9HZnVBqo/TjO8rW9cy2I/AAAAAAAAHVU/OZ7p8izX4EI/s1600/IMG_1596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vVC9HZnVBqo/TjO8rW9cy2I/AAAAAAAAHVU/OZ7p8izX4EI/s320/IMG_1596.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"En las profundidades del Támesis se puede oír a las sirenas. Siguen teniendo voz de niña"</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>J. Prévert</em></strong></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-1419142213025145696?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-6184247223149895252011-07-15T14:08:00.000-07:002012-01-01T13:13:36.944-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>When I knew that I would come to London this summer, any moment &nbsp;I didn't&nbsp; think, that I would see&nbsp; monuments, its famous streets, markets, parks or landmarks. </em></strong></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>I only thought of one thing...that I could visit to Tate Britain and see the interesting painting that <a href="http://www.foroxerbar.com/viewtopic.php?t=11380">Millais</a> painted in the midle of the 19th century, based on a drama, "Hamlet" by William Shakespeare.</em></strong></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"Ophelia" &nbsp;is waiting for me.</em></strong></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br /><br /><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/IBneW73ygXU?rel=0" width="380"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-618424722314989525?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-32964340175617057562011-07-13T06:36:00.000-07:002012-01-01T13:13:17.159-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vZeowcXuPlM/TjamO-hR_mI/AAAAAAAAHVc/r2w2gO1XTvM/s1600/IMG_2870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vZeowcXuPlM/TjamO-hR_mI/AAAAAAAAHVc/r2w2gO1XTvM/s320/IMG_2870.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times,&quot;Times New Roman&quot;,serif;"><b><i>Inmediaciones de la gran ciudad a última hora de la tarde, como el viejo sueño de los rayos de sol a través de los árboles después del mediodía. Bajé en la estación Victoria, donde a algunos de los estudiantes les esperaban unas limusinas. Con el equipaje a la espalda, excitado, me dirigí, en medio del crepúsculo, por Buckingham Palace Road, viendo por primera vez largas calles desiertas. (París es una mujer, pero Londres es un hombre independiente que fuma en una taberna.) Más allá del Palacio, por el Mall, a través del parque de St. James, al Strand, tránsito, humo, míseras multitudes inglesas dirigiéndose a los cines. Trafalgar Square, Fleet Street, donde había menos tránsito, tabernas más oscuras y tristes callejas laterales, casi hasta la Catedral de St. Paul, de una tristeza johnsonniana. Por lo tanto, di media vuelta y entré en la taberna del Rey Lud, para tomar una rarebit de seis peniques y una cerveza. </i></b></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times,&quot;Times New Roman&quot;,serif;"><b><i></i></b></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times,&quot;Times New Roman&quot;,serif;"><b><i>Telefoneé a mi agente de Londres, contándole lo que me ocurría: </i></b></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times,&quot;Times New Roman&quot;,serif;"><b><i>-Mi querido, ha sido terrible que no estuviera en casa esta tarde. Estábamos visitando a mi madre, que está en Yorkshire. ¿Se arreglaría con cinco dólares? </i></b></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times,&quot;Times New Roman&quot;,serif;"><b><i>-¡Sí! </i></b></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times,&quot;Times New Roman&quot;,serif;"><b><i>Por lo tanto, tomé un ómnibus hasta su elegante piso de Buckingham Gate (había pasado por delante de él cuando me bajé del tren), y fui al encuentro de la digna pareja. Él tenía perilla, chimenea y whisky para ofrecerme, me habló de su madre, que contaba cien años, y leía toda la Historia social inglesa de Trevelyan. Hongo, guantes, paraguas, todo sobre la mesa, testimoniaban su modo de vivir, y yo me sentía como el héroe norteamericano de una película antigua. </i></b></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times,&quot;Times New Roman&quot;,serif;"><b><i>El grito lejano de un niño que sueña con Inglaterra debajo del puente de un río. Me dieron sandwiches, dinero, y luego me fui a pasear en torno de Londres, saboreando la niebla en Chelsea.&nbsp;</i></b></span><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times,&quot;Times New Roman&quot;,serif;"><b><i>&nbsp;Los policías que se paseaban en la niebla lechosa, pensando: “¿Quién va a estrangular al policía en medio de la niebla?” Las luces opacas, el soldado inglés que se pasea con un brazo en torno de su novia, y con la otra mano comiendo chips y pescado, la bocina de los taxis y los ómnibus, Picadilly a media noche y un grupo de jóvenes iracundos, preguntándome si conocía a Gerry Mulligan. Por fin obtuve una habitación de quince chelines en el Mapleton Hotel (en el desván), y tuve un sueño largo y divino con la ventana abierta; por la mañana, los carillones que tocan a las once y la camarera que trae una bandeja con tostadas, manteca, mermelada, leche caliente y una cafetera llena de café, mientras yo estoy allí, asombrado. </i></b></span><br /><span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span><br /><b><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">El vagabundo solitario.</span></i></b><br /><b><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">Jack Kerouac</span></i></b><br /><span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span><br /><div align="center"><b><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;">____</span></i></b></div><span style="color: #999999;"></span><br /><div align="center"><span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-3296434017561705756?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-70442057897746583712011-07-08T13:42:00.000-07:002012-01-01T13:12:54.834-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"Sentado en aquel mísero palco me encontraba totalmente embrujado. Me olvidaba de que estaba en Londres y en el siglo XIX"</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Oscar Wilde</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-7044205789774658371?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-76929426307460035162011-07-03T01:32:00.000-07:002012-01-01T13:12:25.627-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HFG9WNHMrBE/ThAFKKxqnwI/AAAAAAAAHVM/arVgtNGszs8/s1600/Tower+Bridge+260308+%252818%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HFG9WNHMrBE/ThAFKKxqnwI/AAAAAAAAHVM/arVgtNGszs8/s320/Tower+Bridge+260308+%252818%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Holmes's knowledge of the byways of London was extraordinary, and on this occasion he passed rapidly and with an assured step through a network of mews and stables, the very existence of which I had never known.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://www.google.com/search?source=ig&amp;hl=es&amp;rlz=1G1GGLQ_ESZZ344&amp;=&amp;q=holmes+known+your+london+as+the+your+hand.+There+isn%C2%B4t+any&amp;aq=f&amp;aqi=&amp;aql=&amp;oq=#hl=es&amp;pq=%20novela%20la%20casa%20vac%C3%ADa%20doyle&amp;xhr=t&amp;q=the%20empty%20house%20Doyle&amp;cp=15&amp;pf=p&amp;sclient=psy&amp;rlz=1G1GGLQ_ESZZ344&amp;source=hp&amp;aq=f&amp;aqi=&amp;aql=&amp;oq=the+empty+house+Doyle&amp;pbx=1&amp;bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.&amp;fp=789cdfe5fb74d1e7&amp;biw=1366&amp;bih=673">The adventure of the empty house</a></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Conan_Doyle">Sir Arthur Conan Doyle</a></em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-7692942630746003516?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-21271374197315435302011-07-01T13:55:00.000-07:002011-07-01T13:57:42.414-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES;"><strong><em>...la distancia, el silencio, el olvido...</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #003366; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2127137419731543530?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-67958289799524136572011-06-22T15:13:00.000-07:002011-06-22T15:20:04.923-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="249" width="325"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/mC0HPR0tQCA?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/mC0HPR0tQCA?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="325" height="249" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://cantanellas.blogspot.com/2008/04/beethoven-leonorefidelio-ii-las.html">Obertura</a> Fidelio. Beethoven.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;">Exquisita Leonora nº&nbsp;3 en manos de Mehta.</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-6795828979952413657?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-20775319074717337062011-06-21T08:47:00.000-07:002011-06-21T08:50:21.186-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong>Me he cruzado con él esta mañana. </strong></em></span><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong>Desde lejos compruebo que <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>me percibe como antaño. Con un gesto casi imperceptible en los ojos o en</strong></em></span><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong>&nbsp;las manos nos entendemos. No hacen falta palabras entre él y yo. Nunca han hecho falta palabras. Ni ahora ni cuando se cogía de mi baby en el patio del colegio. Hace de esto mucho tiempo. Creamos un puente<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>de color azul como sus ojos, que no se rompe con el paso de los años. </strong></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong>Sigo mi camino sonriendo complacida.</strong></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></span></em></strong></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2077531907471733706?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-29678401284550066012011-06-20T22:48:00.000-07:002011-06-20T22:50:54.550-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="249" width="325"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/RhMdMD9tXB0?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/RhMdMD9tXB0?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="325" height="249" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>O, welche Lust!<br />in freier Luft den Atem<br />leicht zu heben, O, welche Lust!<br />nur hier, nur hier ist Leben,<br />der Kerker eine Gruft, eine Gruft!<br /><br />ERSTER GEFANGENE<br />Wir wollen mit Vertrauen<br />auf Gottes Hülfe,<br />auf Gottes Hülfe bauen,<br />die Hoffnung flüstert sanft mir zu,<br />wir werden frei, wir finden Ruh,<br />wir finden Ruh'.<br /><br />GEFANGENEN<br />O Himmel Rettung, <br />welch ein Glück,<br />o Freiheit, o Freiheit,<br />kehrst du zurück?<br /><br />ZWEITE GEFANGENE<br />Sprecht leise, haltet euch zurück,<br />wir sind belauscht mir<br />Ohr und Blick.<br /><br />GEFANGENEN<br />Sprecht leise, haltet euch zurück,<br />wir sind belauscht mir<br />Ohr und Blick.</em></strong></span></div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">**</span></em></strong></span></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Qué delicia, respirar el aire, el aire libre a nuestro alrededor! ¡Qué delicia! Sólo aquí está la vida, ¡y la prisión es una tumba! PRIMER PRISIONERO Queremos confiar en Dios, en su misericordia, la voz de la esperanza aún susurra; seremos liberados y encontraremos la paz. PRISIONEROS ¡Oh, cielos! ¡Salvación! ¡Qué felicidad! ¡Oh, libertad, libertad! ¿Volverás algún día? SEGUNDO PRISIONERO ¡Hablad bajo! ¡Atención, ojos y oídos nos vigilan! PRISIONEROS ¡Hablad bajo! ¡Atención, ojos y oídos nos vigilan!</em></strong></span> </div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: x-small;">**</span></div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><br />&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">&nbsp;<a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fidelio">Fidelio</a>. Chorus of prisioners. .&nbsp;<a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ludwig_van_Beethoven">Beethoven</a></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></span></em></strong></span></div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2967840128455006601?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-8323196542897198792011-06-13T13:31:00.000-07:002011-06-13T13:31:42.562-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Me ayudan a conjurar....demonios.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-832319654289719879?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-31515962282405381242011-06-11T15:02:00.000-07:002011-06-11T15:16:28.378-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="249" width="325"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/7g21UHxcasc?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/7g21UHxcasc?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="325" height="249" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>non feci mai male ad anima viva!... </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Con man furtiva </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>quante miserie conobbi, aiutai... </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Sempre con fe' sincera, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>la mia preghiera </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ai santi tabernacoli salì. </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Sempre con fe' sincera </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>diedi fiori agli altar. </em></strong></span><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"></span></em></strong><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Nell'ora del dolore </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>perché, perché Signore, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>perché me ne rimuneri così? </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Diedi gioielli </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>della Madonna al manto, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>e diedi il canto agli astri, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>al ciel, che ne ridean più belli. </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Nell'ora del dolore, perché, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>perché Signore, perché </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>me ne rimuneri così? </em></strong></span><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"></span></em></strong><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br />**<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>He vivido del arte, he vivido del amor,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡nunca le he hecho mal a nadie...!</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Con mano furtiva</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>cuantas miserias he conocido, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>he socorrido...</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Siempre, con fe sincera, mi plegaria </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>en los santos templos, elevé.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Siempre, con fe sincera,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>he llevado flores al altar.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>En la hora del dolor, ¿por qué,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>por qué Señor, por qué</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>me pagas de esta manera?</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>He dado joyas</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>para el manto de la Señora,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>y he dado mi canto a las estrellas,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>que brillaban tan radiantes.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>En la hora del dolor, ¿por qué,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>por qué Señor, por qué</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>me pagas de esta manera?</em></strong></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-3151596228240538124?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-73493543968080334312011-06-10T10:44:00.000-07:002011-06-10T11:25:50.493-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><object height="349" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/v46QUs8Qjl0?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/v46QUs8Qjl0?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="349" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>O dolci mani mansuete e pure, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>o mani elette a bell'opre e pietose, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>a carezzar fanciulli, a coglier rose, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>a pregar, giunte, per le sventure, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>dunque in voi, fatte dall'amor secure, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>giustizia le sue sacre armi depose? </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Voi deste morte, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>o man vittoriose, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>o dolci mani mansuete e pure!... </em></strong></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-7349354396808033431?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-21976354309917656422011-06-09T09:36:00.000-07:002011-10-07T11:55:57.750-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><span style="color: #666666;">"...he</span> <span style="color: #666666;">perdut l’interès, q</span></span></em></strong><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">ue la vida que ens hem perdut simplement no existeix”</span></em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="249" width="325"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/4rTcwQT9kyQ?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/4rTcwQT9kyQ?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="325" height="249" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Mira, surt el sol a les ciutats</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>on haguéssim pogut viure</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>i una llum plena de pau</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>va inundant totes les cuines;</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>jo faig pinta de tranquil</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>i tu sembles tant tranquil·la</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>i ens crido “treu-te la disfressa i revela qui ets,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>no em crec que sigueu la vida que ens estem perdent”</em></strong></span><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Mira, tot ha anat segons el pla</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>quin exemple d’harmonia,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>això és creure en el que un vol</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>invertir en saviesa els dies;</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>si prens nota crec que ens surt un bon llibre d’aforismes</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>i ens crido celebrant-vos les mans “us he vist el cul,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>no sou realment la vida que ens hem perdut”</em></strong></span><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Mira, panderetes, serpentines, apa nena quines mitges,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>hi som tots, si, però fixa’t bé com et miro, com em mires,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>va, assumim-ho, els dies bons gairebé som invencibles</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>i ens crido “això és lamentable teatre amateur,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>i no la vida que se’ns escapa a cada moment” </em></strong></span><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Mira, com els nervis no han pogut</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>les paraules que buscàvem</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>les diem, i no fan por </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>les diem, amb la veu alta; </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>amor meu, sempre hi seré </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>amor meu, com ho dubtaves</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>i ens crido “ja sé de que aneu i he perdut l’interès, </em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>que la vida que ens hem perdut simplement no existeix”</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">"La bola de cristal"</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em>10 milles per veure una bona armadura. <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manel_(banda)"><span style="color: lightslategrey;">Manel</span></a></em></span><br /></span></em></strong><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2197635430991765642?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-13284892378587751842011-06-08T09:33:00.000-07:002011-06-08T09:37:22.736-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="249" width="360"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/N8lD9ZmYHhE?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/N8lD9ZmYHhE?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="360" height="249" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div><table border="0"><tbody><tr><td valign="top"><br /><dl><dd></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E lucevan le stelle...</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Ed olezzava la terra...</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Stridea l'uscio dell'orto...</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E un passo sfiorava la rena...</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Entrava ella, fragrante,</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Mi cadea fra le braccia...</em></strong></span></dd></dl><dl><dd></dd><dd></dd><dd></dd><dd></dd><dd></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Oh! dolci baci, o languide carezze,</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Mentr'io fremente</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Le belle forme disciogliea dai veli!</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Svanì per sempre il sogno mio d'amore...</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>L'ora è fuggita...</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E muoio disperato!</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E muoio disperato!</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E non ho amato mai tanto la vita!...</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Tanto la vita!...</em></strong></span></dd></dl><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/E_lucevan_le_stelle">E lucevan le stelle</a></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Tosca.<a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giacomo_Puccini"> Puccini</a>.</em></strong></span></td><td valign="top"><br /><dl><dd><dl><dd><dl><dd></dd></dl></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Y brillaban las estrellas,</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Y olía la tierra,</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Chirriaba la puerta del huerto,</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Y unos pasos rozaban la arena...</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Entraba ella, fragante,</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Caía entre mis brazos...</em></strong></span></dd></dl></dd></dl><dl><dd><dl><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Oh, dulces besos! ¡Oh, lánguidas caricias,</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Mientras yo, tembloroso,</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Sus bellas formas desataba de los velos!</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Desvaneció para siempre mi sueño de amor...</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>La hora ha pasado...</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Y muero desesperado!</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Y muero desesperado!</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Y jamás he amado tanto la vida!</em></strong></span></dd><dd><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Tanto la vida!</em></strong></span></dd></dl></dd></dl><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></td></tr><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em> </em></strong></span></tbody><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></table><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-1328489237858775184?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-68686720700727845822011-06-07T14:54:00.000-07:002011-06-07T22:36:52.093-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Pieza clave y primera de mi amor por la ópera, el aria de Cavaradossi al inicio de "<a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tosca_(%C3%B3pera)">Tosca</a>".</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Hoy, bajo la batuta de&nbsp; <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zubin_Mehta">Zubin Mehta</a>.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="249" width="325"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/FOyibJ3FfKA?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/FOyibJ3FfKA?version=3&amp;hl=es_ES" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="325" height="249" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><table><><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"></div></div></><tbody><tr><td style="padding-right: 3em;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Dammi i colori...</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Recondita armonia di bellezze diverse!<br />È bruna Floria, l'ardente amante mia.<br />E te, beltade ignota, cinta di chiome bionde,<br />Tu azzurro hai l'occhio,<br />Tosca ha l'occhio nero!</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>L'arte nel suo mistero,<br />le diverse bellezze insiem confonde...<br />Ma nel ritrar costei,<br />Il mio solo pensiero,<br />Il mio sol pensier sei tu,<br />Tosca, sei tu!</em></strong></span></td><td style="padding-left: 3em;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Pass me the colors...</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Concealed harmony of contrasting beauties!<br />Floria, my ardent lover, is dark haired.<br />And you, unknown beauty, crowned with blond hair,<br />You have blue eyes,<br />Tosca has black eyes!</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Art, in its mysterious way,<br />blends the contrasting beauties together...<br />But while I'm painting her,<br />My only thought,<br />My only thought is of you,<br />Tosca, it is of you!</em></strong></span></td></tr></tbody> </table><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Escondida armonía de bellezas diversas!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Flora, mi ardiente amante, es morena.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Y tú, belleza desconocida,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>envuelta en&nbsp;rubios cabellos,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>tus ojos son azules,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Tosca los tiene negros!</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>El arte en su misterio</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>las distintas bellezas confunde entre sí...</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Más al pintarla a ella,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>mi solo pensamiento,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>mi solo pensamiento eres tú,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Tosca, eres tú!</em></strong></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span><br /><br /><br /></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-6868672070072784582?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-87573563584326583602011-06-01T23:25:00.000-07:002011-06-01T23:26:25.099-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Podrían haber continuado siempre así, tan cerca y a la vez tan lejos. Sin impaciencia ni añoranza. El azar habría perpetuado el juego de encuentros que apenas se esbozan, que mueren antes de nacer, cuando los cuerpos se cierran a la insistencia de los demás y las almas se doblegan a los embates de los vientos.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Pasiones romanas</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maria_de_la_Pau_Janer">Maria de la Pau Janer</a></em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8757356358432658360?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-67427134679131926082011-05-30T22:35:00.000-07:002011-05-30T22:46:48.941-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span class="texto">Abro el libro de Marzal. Primer poema.</span></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span class="texto">Lo&nbsp;recito. </span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span class="texto">Hoy no me produce desazón e inquietud. </span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span class="texto">Simplemente me detengo</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span class="texto">en&nbsp;las luces&nbsp; de la&nbsp;noche de &nbsp;afuera</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span class="texto">y en las de mi noche de adentro. </span></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span class="texto">Me resbalo, asombrada,&nbsp;por mi voz hasta acabarlo.</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sc0mNDgxVkE/TeR-CTngu7I/AAAAAAAAHUQ/fmJDTpNjmHY/s1600/A+070+-+copia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sc0mNDgxVkE/TeR-CTngu7I/AAAAAAAAHUQ/fmJDTpNjmHY/s320/A+070+-+copia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span class="texto">"Cálculos infinitesimales"</span></em></strong></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span class="texto">La luz de esas estrellas ya ha ocurrido.</span><br /><span class="texto">En una lejanía inapropiada </span><br /><span class="texto">para nuestra penosa sensatez,</span><br /><span class="texto">ya han muerto las estrellas que miramos.</span><br /><span class="texto">Millones de millones de años luz,</span><br /><span class="texto">agujeros del tiempo inconcebibles,</span><br /><span class="texto">la confabulación de la energía,</span><br /><span class="texto">más allá de cuanto nos resulta soportable,</span><br /><span class="texto">en una aterradora fiesta sin nosotros. </span><br /><span class="texto">Todo el escrupuloso asombro de la ciencia</span><br /><span class="texto">parece que conduce hasta este asombro </span><br /><span class="texto">con que contempla el cielo un ignorante.</span><br /><span class="texto">Según nos dicen, hay que seguir viviendo</span><br /><span class="texto">cercados de preguntas sin respuestas.</span><br /><span class="texto">Nuestras lentes exploran las galaxias</span><br /><span class="texto">y nuestra pequeñez sólo es tangible </span><br /><span class="texto">en el inmaculado abismo de los números,</span><br /><span class="texto">en el sagrado horror </span><br /><span class="texto">de cálculos infinitesimales. </span></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span class="texto"></span><br /><span class="texto">¿Hacia dónde conducen estas cavilaciones</span><br /><span class="texto">de aturdido astrofísico? Estas cavilaciones</span><br /><span class="texto">no conducen. Estas cavilaciones ya han estado,</span><br /><span class="texto">ya han sido desde mí en otro yo que ha muerto </span><br /><span class="texto">en la distancia. Todo lo que refulge es luz marchita.</span><br /><span class="texto">Ser es un fui que un no soy yo contempla</span><br /><span class="texto">desconcertado desde un planeta ajeno. </span><br /><span class="texto">La Historia y el futuro han sido para siempre</span><br /><span class="texto">y acosan desde lejos, ya ocurridos.</span><br /><span class="texto">La vida es la nostalgia incorregible </span><br /><span class="texto">de habitar un rincón del firmamento</span><br /><span class="texto">que sólo se ha erigido en el pasado</span><br /><span class="texto">y cuyo planisferio hemos perdido.</span><br /><span class="texto"></span><br /><span class="texto">Así que cuando te amo ya te he amado.</span><br /><span class="texto">El dolor que te causo y que me causas</span><br /><span class="texto">es un dolor tan viejo que no duele, </span><br /><span class="texto">aunque puedas pensar que está doliéndonos, </span><br /><span class="texto">y ese fuego eucarístico en el que me consumo</span><br /><span class="texto">es un simple capricho de las cronologías,</span><br /><span class="texto">un voluntario error de apreciación </span><br /><span class="texto">con respecto al pasmoso suceder de las cosas.</span><br /><span class="texto">Nuestra felicidad ya no nos pertenece,</span><br /><span class="texto">vivimos de prestado en lontananza, </span><br /><span class="texto">que es el inconcebible tiempo de las constelaciones.</span><br /><span class="texto">La perpetua ordalía de tu cuerpo</span><br /><span class="texto">es el altar de una ciudad hundida </span><br /><span class="texto">en donde los ahogados de mí mismo </span><br /><span class="texto">aún mantienen un culto que ha perdido a sus fieles.</span><br /><span class="texto">El temblor de quererte, el estremecimiento</span><br /><span class="texto">de coincidir contigo en esta nada </span><br /><span class="texto">quizá es una ilusión de mi memoria astral.</span><br /><span class="texto"></span><br /><span class="texto">Y el caso es que no importa. </span><br /><span class="texto">No importa que no podamos ser, porque hemos sido; </span><br /><span class="texto">no importa que en ti no pueda estar, porque ya estuve,</span><br /><span class="texto">no importa si lo que ya ha acabado nunca nace.</span><br /><span class="texto">Me incumbe la conciencia del álgebra celeste </span><br /><span class="texto">y en lugar de alejarme de ti los números me acercan.</span><br /><span class="texto">No puedo comprender esas distancias </span><br /><span class="texto">y aunque las comprendiera no las vivo.</span><br /><span class="texto">Hay una plenitud crepuscular </span><br /><span class="texto">en la conspiración del universo </span><br /><span class="texto">para que no nos encontremos tú y yo. </span><br /><span class="texto">Ya no concibo una embriaguez más grande</span><br /><span class="texto">que ese convencimiento con que irradias</span><br /><span class="texto">la falsa luz de las estrellas muertas.</span><br /><br /></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span class="texto"><a href="http://www.march.es/Recursos_Web/Culturales/Documentos/conferencias/GC57.pdf">Metales pesados</a>. </span></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span class="texto"><a href="http://amediavoz.com/marzal.htm">Carlos Marzal.</a></span></span></em></strong></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span class="texto">***</span></em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-6742713467913192608?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-51347056591105723422011-05-29T07:13:00.000-07:002011-05-29T21:53:34.508-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LzQR_-3alqs/TeEcprqOfcI/AAAAAAAAHT8/lpWFeFYQySo/s1600/IMG_0299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LzQR_-3alqs/TeEcprqOfcI/AAAAAAAAHT8/lpWFeFYQySo/s320/IMG_0299.JPG" width="235" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><strong><em>El mar,&nbsp;</em></strong></span><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><strong><em>&nbsp;la luz&nbsp;</em></strong></span><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><strong><em> y el paisaje, </em></strong></span></span><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><strong><em>t</em></strong></span><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><strong><em>an&nbsp;mediterráneos,&nbsp;</em></strong></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><strong><em>equilibran&nbsp;lo angosto </em></strong></span><span style="color: #999999; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><strong><em>del viaje con adolescentes,</em></strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><strong><em>sus noches interminables, </em></strong></span><span style="color: #999999; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><strong><em>artificiales, huecas.</em></strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-5134705659110572342?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-82313047230866861392011-05-28T07:11:00.000-07:002011-05-28T08:56:30.806-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">Cuando emprendas el viaje hacia Ítaca</span></span></i></b><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">ruega que sea largo el camino,</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">lleno de aventuras, lleno de experiencias.</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">A los Lestrigones, a los Cíclopes</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">o al furioso Poseidón, nunca temas.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div><span style="color: #999999;"> E</span><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">n tu camino no los encontrarás</span></span></i></b><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">si se mantiene elevado tu pensamiento, si una exquisita</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">emoción te toca cuerpo y alma.</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">Ni a los Lestrigones, ni a los Cíclopes,</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">ni al fiero Poseidón has de encontrar,</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">a no ser que los lleves ya en tu alma,</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>no ser que tu alma los ponga en pie ante ti.</span></span></i></b></div><span style="color: #999999;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">Ruega que sea largo el camino.</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">Que muchas sean las mañanas de verano<br />en que - ¡con qué placer! ¡con qué alegría! -<br />entres en puertos nunca antes vistos.<br />Detente en los mercados fenicios<br />para comprar finas mercancías<br />madreperla y coral, ámbar y ébano,<br />y toda suerte de perfumes sensuales,<br />tantos perfumes voluptuosos como puedas.<br />Ve a muchas ciudades egipcias<br />para que aprendas y aprendas de sus sabios.</span></span></i></b><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">Siempre en la mente has de tener a Ítaca.<br />Llegar allá es tu destino.<br />Pero no apresures el viaje.<br />Es mejor que dure muchos años<br />y que ya viejo llegues a la isla,<br />rico de todo lo que hayas guardado en el camino<br />sin esperar que Ítaca te de riquezas.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div><span style="color: #999999;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">Ítaca te ha dado el bello viaje.</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">Sin ella no habrías emprendido el camino.</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">No tiene otra cosa que darte ya.</span></span></i></b><span style="color: #999999;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p>&nbsp;</o:p></span></i></b></span></div><span style="color: #999999;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">Y si la encuentras pobre, Ítaca no te ha engañado</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">sabio como te has vuelto con tantas experiencias,</span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #999999;">habrás comprendido lo que significan las Ítacas.</span></span></i></b><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><b><i><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%8Dtaca">&nbsp;Ítaca</a></span></span></span></i></b><br /><b><i><span style="color: #365f91; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #666666;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Constantino_Cavafis">K. Kavafis</a></span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8231304723086686139?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-9669941738089799672011-05-18T14:28:00.000-07:002011-05-28T09:50:06.275-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Solo deberíamos sentir añoranza de aquello que existe y tenemos posibilidad de recuperar. </em></strong></span><br /><br /></div><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">D</span><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">e este&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">tipo de nostalgia son estos tres momentos adorables puccinianos:</span></span></em></strong><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"Che faranno i vecchi miei" de la Fanciulla del West</em></strong></span><br /><br /><object height="220" width="300"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/QGquczzHEb8?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/QGquczzHEb8?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="300" height="220" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Ping, Pang, Pong. Turandot</em></strong></span><br /><br /><object height="220" width="300"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/OiqaYm_uecg?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/OiqaYm_uecg?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="300" height="220" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Coro a bocca chiusa de Madama Butterfly</em></strong></span><br /><br /><object height="220" width="300"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/CpJO1PVGA7c?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/CpJO1PVGA7c?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="300" height="220" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Tienen una nostalgia común y entendible: la ausencia de aquello que aman. Dos palabras clave: lontano y tornar.<span style="color: #365f91; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></em></strong></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Cómo me conmueven estos mineros de la Fanciulla y qué fragmento tan lucidor &nbsp;para un&nbsp;barítono! Me conmueven más que los tres simpáticos ministros de Turandot. Resultan muy sugerentes las dos piezas para esa evocación del que se sabe lejos y "desea volver".</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Musicalmente los mineros me remiten&nbsp; al coro a bocca chiusa de Butterfly más &nbsp;que Ping, Pang y Pong; será por los suaves arpegios del arpa, el bajo marcando el ritmo en ciertos momentos,&nbsp;el&nbsp;pizzicato y ese punto de tristeza que dan las tonalidades,&nbsp;a pesar de que en Butterfly las voces sean blancas y en la Fanciulla el coro sea masculino.</em></strong></span><br /><br />La añoranza en los tres casos, está envuelta en tul de lino y esperanza. </em></strong></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Sin embargo sabemos que en Butterfly esa añoranza se convertirá pronto<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>en "tul de lino y dolor".</em></strong></span> </span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: ES; mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-966994173808979967?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-47676400552569067292011-05-14T22:08:00.000-07:002011-05-17T11:44:17.643-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"Mentre aspetto..."</em></strong></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><object height="229" width="325"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/8UeHFRfKc44?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/8UeHFRfKc44?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="325" height="229" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></em></strong></span></div><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Io ti seguii com'iride di pace</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Lungo le vie del cielo;</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Io ti seguii come un'amica face</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>De la notte nel velo.</em></strong></span><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"></span></em></strong><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E ti sentii ne la luce, ne l'aria,</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Nel profumo dei fiori;</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E fu piena la stanza solitaria</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Di te, dei tuoi splendori.</em></strong></span><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"></span></em></strong><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>In te rapito, al suon de la tua voce,</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Lungamente sognai;</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E de la terra ogni affanno, ogni croce,</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>In quel giorno scordai.</em></strong></span><br /><br /></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Torna caro ideal, torna un instante</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>A sorridermi ancora;</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>E a me risplenderà, nel tuo sembiante,</em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Una novella aurora.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Torna, caro ideal, torna, torna.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://www.asociacioncaliope.org/tosti.htm">Francesco Paolo Tosti (1846-1916)</a></span></em></strong><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luciano_Pavarotti">Luciano Pavarotti (1935-2007)</a></em></strong></span><br /><br /></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></div><div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>***</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div></div><div></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-4767640055256906729?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-25828965701494955102011-05-14T21:26:00.000-07:002011-05-16T22:26:54.412-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"É&nbsp; un sogno lontano, lontano"</em></strong></span><br /><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="230" width="360"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/Y69tYEq1crA?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/Y69tYEq1crA?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="330" height="249" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Ho sognato che stavia ginocchi<br />come un santo che prega il Signor,<br />mi guardavi nel fondo degl'occhi<br />sfavillava il tuo sguardo d`amor.<br /><br />Tu parlavi e la voce sommessa<br />mi chiedea dolcemente mercè,<br />solo un guardo che fosse promessa<br />imploravi curvato al mio piè.<br /><br />Io traceva e coll'anima forte<br />il desio tentatore lottò,<br />ho provato il martirio e la morte,<br />pur me vinsi e ti dissi di no.<br /><br />Ma il tuo labbro sfiorò la mia faccia<br />e la forza del cor mi tradi<br />chiusi gli occhi,<br />ti stesi le braccia, </em></strong></span></span><br /><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ma sognavo e il bel sogno svani.</em></strong></span></span><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"></span></div><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br />**<strong><em></em></strong></div></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"></div><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francesco_Paolo_Tosti">Francesco Paolo Tosti (1846-1916)</a></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carlo_Bergonzi">Carlo Bergonzi (tenor), 1924</a></em></strong></span></span></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><span style="color: #999999;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></em></strong></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><span style="color: #999999;"><br /></span></span><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2582896570149495510?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-80566019032639293752011-05-06T13:10:00.000-07:002011-05-08T10:57:27.980-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T4eEGIU26Ng/TcRc-_uHtcI/AAAAAAAAG4w/fkb9Qd6-BZQ/s1600/00122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T4eEGIU26Ng/TcRc-_uHtcI/AAAAAAAAG4w/fkb9Qd6-BZQ/s320/00122.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="color: maroon;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Hemos perdido aún este crepúsculo. <br />Nadie nos vio esta tarde con las manos unidas <br />mientras la noche azul caía sobre el mundo.&nbsp; </em></strong></span></span><span style="color: maroon;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: maroon;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>He visto desde mi ventana </em></strong></span></span><br /><span style="color: maroon;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><div style="text-align: left;">la fiesta del poniente en los cerros lejanos. <br /><br />A veces como una moneda <br />se encendía un pedazo de sol entre mis manos. <br /><br />Yo te recordaba con el alma apretada <br />de esa tristeza que tú me conoces. <br /><br />Entonces, dónde estabas? <br />Entre qué gentes? <br />Diciendo qué palabras? <br />Por qué se me vendrá todo el amor de golpe <br />cuando me siento triste, y te siento lejana? <br /><br />Cayó el libro que siempre se toma en el crepúsculo, <br />y como un perro herido rodó a mis pies mi capa. <br />Siempre, siempre te alejas en las tardes<br />hacia donde el crepúsculo corre borrando estatuas.<br /><br /></div></em><div style="text-align: left;"></div></strong><div style="text-align: left;"></div></span><div style="text-align: left;"></div></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pablo_Neruda">Pablo neruda</a>. <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Veinte_poemas_de_amor_y_una_canci%C3%B3n_desesperada">"Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada"</a></span></em></strong></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></em></strong></span></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><br /></em></strong></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8056601903263929375?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-86893225499589055852011-05-05T12:08:00.000-07:002011-05-18T15:14:13.967-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"Te vi por primera vez y quedé presa de tu encanto"</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: &quot;Trebuchet MS&quot;, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><strong><em>&nbsp;&nbsp;Bonita frase para comenzar el día</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8689322549958905585?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-17280307963166273582011-05-02T00:48:00.000-07:002011-05-03T00:02:01.656-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>En la subida a <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santuario_de_San_Juan_Bautista_de_Pe%C3%B1agolosa_y_Santa_B%C3%A1rbara">S. Joan</a> sobraron gentes y voces vacuas. Los senderos y los peregrinos, envueltos en niebla, demandaban, a gritos, un silencio sonoro de montes, de toques espaciados de campanas, de cantos ancestrales, de&nbsp;relinchos de caballo y de&nbsp;lluvia.</em></strong></span></span><br /><span style="color: #999999;"> </span><br /><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>En la bajada a <a href="http://www.rutasdevalencia.com/historia/1436-peregrinacion_de_les_useres/">Les Useres</a>, al día siguiente,&nbsp;desaparece el tiempo y este siglo. Discurres por edad incierta y reconoces a través de los trece peregrinos y sus rituales&nbsp;un sentido profundo y distinto&nbsp;de entender la vida. </em></strong></span></span><br /><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>En esas horas no existe&nbsp; nada más que el camino y el contacto visual con trece episodios de tu vida&nbsp;y trece peticiones tuyas recortándose contra el cielo, arriba en las lomas. </em></strong></span></span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;">Al dejarles, cuando&nbsp; está cayendo la noche,&nbsp;vuelas al pueblo con&nbsp;<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> garra y fuerza, con tesón y&nbsp;valor, dolorida, y agotada,&nbsp; agradecida, despojada, emocionada... porque has conseguido equilibrar la dureza del camino y la fuerza interior&nbsp; que marca&nbsp;tus&nbsp; pasos. </span></span></em></strong></span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><a href="javascript:;"><img alt="Pulsa aquí para ver la imagen a tamaño completo" border="0" class="image" height="320" src="http://www.fotosvalencia.es/albums/useres/IMG_2701.jpg" width="227" /></a></span></em></span></strong></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 6.95pt;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-1728030796316627358?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-14154028730741130412011-04-27T17:23:00.000-07:002011-04-28T12:05:28.708-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">Uno de mis duetos preferidos, Fausto y Elena al final de Mefistofele&nbsp;en una noche memorable:</span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="240" width="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/gRldAPuD7wc?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/gRldAPuD7wc?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="340" height="240"></embed></object></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"> </span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: O incantesimo! Parla! Parla! Qual magico soffio cotanto bea la tua dolce loquela d'amore? Il suon tu inserti al suon, Quasi alito d'eco d'estasi piena. Dimmi, como farò a palar l'idioma soave? </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: Frugo nel cor E ti rispondo: Ave! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: E mi rispondi: Ave. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: Così tu pur come augello a richiamo, frughi nel cor e mi rispondi: T'amo! T'amo! Ah! T'amo, t'amo! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: T'amo! T'amo, t'amo! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA, FAUSTO: Ah! Amore! Mistero celeste, profondo! Già il tempo dilegua cancellasi il mondo! Già l'ore dai tetri mortali contate ramingan serene per plaghe beate! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: Per plaghe beate ramingan serene! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: Amore! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: E brividi ignoti mi cercan le vene. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: Amore! </em></strong></span><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO, ELENA: E un'aura di cantici Esala il mio core. guardandoci in viso, cantiamo l'amore! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: Cantiamo l'amore guardandoci in viso! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: Cantiam l'amor! Ah! L'amore, l'amore delirio! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA, FAUSTO: L'amore sorriso! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: Ah! L'amore visione...L'amore canzone, Sia sempre nel tardo futuro sommerso l'estremo suo canto l'estremo suo verso! Cantiamo l'amor! Ah! Cantiamo l'amor! Mister! L'amor, l'amor! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: Ah! L'amore canzone, Sia sempre nel tardo futuro sommerso l'estremo suo verso! Amor! Amor! Amore! Mister! Amor! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>CORETIDI, CORIFEI: Poesia libera, T'alza pe' cieli! Voli di folgore! Impeti d'aquila! Spinganti all'ultime regge del sol, poesia! Sì, spinganti a vol! (allontanandosi) Ah! Ah! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: (mormorato)Giace in Arcadia, una placida valle... </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: (mormorato) Ivi insieme vivrem. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: E avrem per nido Le grotte delle ninfe... E per guanciale . . .</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: Le tue morbide chiome... </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: E i fior di prato...</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>.................................</em></strong></span></div><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em> ELENA: ¡Qué dulzura! ¡Habla de nuevo! ¿Qué mágico poder da a tus palabras tan encantador acento? Se entrelazan los sonidos como un amoroso eco. Dime, ¿Cómo podría yo aprender a formar tan hermosas frases? </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: Busco en mi corazón y te respondo: ¡Salve!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: Y yo respondo: ¡Salve! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: Así, tú también, como un pájaro que, en pleno vuelo, buscara a su pareja, me respondes: ¡Te amo! ¡Te amo! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: ¡Te amo! ¡Te amo! ¡Te amo! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA, FAUSTO: ¡Ah! ¡Amor! ¡Misterio divino, profundo! Ya no existe el tiempo, el mundo se ha detenido. Las horas, medidas por los simples mortales, transcurren serenas en esta bendita orilla. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: ¡Transcurren serenas en esta bendita orilla! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: ¡Amor! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: Y una extraña y nueva fuerza parece recorrer todo mi ser. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: ¡Amor! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO, ELENA: Mi corazón se desborda de cánticos. Nos miramos a los ojos y cantamos las alabanzas del amor. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: ¡Cantemos al amor! ¡Mirémonos a los ojos!... </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: ¡Cantemos al amor! ¡Al amor! ¡Al éxtasis! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA, FAUSTO: ¡La alegría del amor! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: ¡Ah, el sueño del amor! ¡El canto del amor! ¡Ah, el canto del amor! Sepultado por siempre en un futuro distante, se encuentra su último poema. ¡La última elegía del amor!¡Cantemos al amor! ¡El misterio del amor! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: ¡El sueño del amor! Sepultado por siempre en un futuro distante, se encuentra su último poema. ¡El misterio del amor! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>CARIÁTIDES, CORIFEOS: ¡Libre poesía,vuela hacia el cielo! Vuela con la rapidez del rayo y el ímpetu del águila, hasta los confines del reino del sol. Sí, con impetuoso vuelo. (alejándose) ¡Ah! ¡Ah! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: (murmurando) Hay en Arcadia un valle tranquilo... </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: (murmurando) Allí viviremos juntos... </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: Nuestro hogar será la gruta de las ninfas, y la almohada... </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>FAUSTO: Tus suaves trenzas... </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>ELENA: Y las flores del campo... </em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #660000;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mefistofele">Mefistofele. Boito</a></em></strong></span> </span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-1415402873074113041?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-68149148010698876432011-04-17T23:31:00.000-07:002011-04-18T04:39:42.729-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"Sigo trenzando flores..."</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-6814914801069887643?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-85456823636142207312011-04-14T13:36:00.000-07:002011-04-14T22:56:52.632-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><em><b><span style="color: #244061; font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><span style="color: #999999;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Ayer un día profundo, de esos que arañan el alma, de esos que se viven casi con una perfección dolorosa <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>desde que te levantas hasta que, con la noche,&nbsp;dejas reposar la cabeza en la almohada.</span></span></b></em><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><em><b><span style="font-family: &quot;Times&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></span></b></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8545682363614220731?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-92116835501591009852011-04-12T10:23:00.000-07:002011-10-09T03:49:36.611-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><br /><div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CBVHBs1deso/TaSOjaDjIdI/AAAAAAAAGsM/GKkOo3vo1OI/s1600/_DSC0088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CBVHBs1deso/TaSOjaDjIdI/AAAAAAAAGsM/GKkOo3vo1OI/s200/_DSC0088.jpg" width="133" /></a><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Vindran els anys i, amb els anys, la calma</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Que et pintarà als ulls una mirada suau.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Et faran fer un pas i, després, un altre,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Seràs tota una experta a tirar endavant.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Amb tant de temps hauràs trobat un lloc agradable,</em></strong></span><br /><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>O ja estaràs un pèl mandrosa per buscar.</em></strong></span></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Rebràs tracte de senyora, o de iaia estranya</em></strong></span></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Que té acollonits tots els nens del veïnat.</em></strong></span></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>I seràs un sac de mals o seràs una roca.</em></strong></span></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>I els moments de mirar enrere et faran gràcia i et faran mal.</em></strong></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>I potser no seré el teu amic,</em></strong></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Ni tindré res a veure amb si ets o no ets feliç.</em></strong></span></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Ja em veig de record mig trist que se't creua pel cap</em></strong></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Una mala tarda.</em></strong></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>I potser dormiré abraçadet</em></strong></span></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>A una dona a qui quasi no hauré explicat qui ets.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Potser tindrem néts malparits que se'n fotin de mi</em></strong></span><br /><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Quan no m'enteri de les coses.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Però, quan seré vell, seguiré cantant-te cançons, igual.</em></strong></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Caminaré lent i m'asseuré, a vegades, als bancs.</em></strong></span></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Verset a verset convocaré el teu cos llarg i blanc</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>I em podran veure somriure una mica per sota del nas.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Que vinguin els anys! Aquí em té la calma!</em></strong></span><br /><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Que em jugo amb la decadència de la carn</em></strong></span></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Que un raconet del menjador farà d'escenari</em></strong></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>I que ningú sospitarà de qui estic parlant.</em></strong></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>I que, quan seré vell, seguiré cantant-te cançons, igual.</em></strong></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>No sé si estaré per garantir-te una gran qualitat</em></strong></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Però creuré en un verset i em distrauré intentant-lo allargar</em></strong></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>I em podran veure somriure una mica per sota del nas,</em></strong></span></div></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>I em podran veure somriure una mica per sota del nas.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><object height="190" width="280"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/8zz-KYLSKeg?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/8zz-KYLSKeg?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="280" height="190"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>"Criticarem les noves modes de pentinats"</em></strong></span></div><strong><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em>10 milles per veure una bona armadura. <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manel_(banda)">Manel</a></em></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-9211683550159100985?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-9143180867670404292011-04-02T03:28:00.000-07:002011-04-03T00:18:08.038-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eRAQUFYjhMY/TZb7YoQ8plI/AAAAAAAAGrw/dQFvTwZAA5w/s1600/Sal+y+azahar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eRAQUFYjhMY/TZb7YoQ8plI/AAAAAAAAGrw/dQFvTwZAA5w/s320/Sal+y+azahar.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Tras las primeras luces y enhebrado al último día de marzo llegó en medio del barullo infantil. Se acercó con&nbsp;paso seguro,&nbsp;sigiloso, delicado, con su porte elegante.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Ya está aquí, pensé, fiel a su cita. Y le di la bienvenida, serena, con una sonrisa. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Es ese aroma de meridiano mediterráneo que entra en mi cuerpo y se queda anclado día a día durante todo el mes de abril. </em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Me dispongo a retenerlo con tu luz amarilla que salpicará las horas, mi pulso y mi ánimo. Permaneceré envuelta y saturada de su néctar. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>El cabello y la piel dejarán estela cuando me mueva. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Mis ansias de ti gotearán&nbsp;perfume y una lágrima de sal y azahar rodará por las comisuras de un deseo sin esperanza. </em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Tras una nueva derrota nocturna tomo un ramillete de amargo azahar y hago que la primavera inunde mi casa.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-914318086767040429?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-39283150747389635822011-03-26T03:16:00.000-07:002011-03-26T03:18:06.951-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div align="center" dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><object height="290" width="380"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/hW318pKCHtg?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/hW318pKCHtg?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="380" height="290"></embed></object></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Urlicht </em></strong></span></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>O Röschen rot! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Der Mensch liegt in größter Not!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Der Mensch liegt in größter Pein! </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Je lieber möcht ich im Himmel sein. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Da kam ich auf einen breiten Weg; </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>da kam ein Engelein und wollt' mich abweisen.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Ach nein! Ich ließ mich nicht abweisen!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Ich bin von Gott und will wieder zu Gott!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Der liebe Gott wird mir ein Lichten geben,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>wird leuchten mir bis an das ewig selig Leben!</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Luz Primordial</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Oh, pequeña rosa roja!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Los hombres sufren gran necesidad!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Los hombres sufren con gran pena!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>He estado alejado del cielo.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Venía por un ancho camino,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>cuando un angelito intentó hacerme retroceder.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Oh, no! ¡Rechacé regresar!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Provengo de Dios y regresaré a Dios!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>El misericordioso Dios me dará una lucecita,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡para iluminar mi camino hacia la eterna gloria!</em></strong></span><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sinfon%C3%ADa_n.%C2%BA_2_(Mahler)">Sinfonía nª 2: "Resurrección"</a></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://www.luissancho.com/2008/04/14/resurreccion-la-segunda-de-mahler-morir-para-vivir/">IV movimiento</a></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gustav_Mahler">Mahler</a></span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>***</em></strong></span></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-3928315074738963582?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-1131214856860332082011-03-20T08:23:00.000-07:002011-03-20T08:24:21.395-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-0mZRnMBKwkc/TYYbQswEAJI/AAAAAAAAGmU/BbAA4mIKcv0/s1600/X%25C3%25A0via.+Mar%25C3%25A7+%252711+.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" r6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-0mZRnMBKwkc/TYYbQswEAJI/AAAAAAAAGmU/BbAA4mIKcv0/s320/X%25C3%25A0via.+Mar%25C3%25A7+%252711+.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Yo soy quien libre me vi,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>yo, quien pudiera olvidaros;</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>yo só el que, por amaros,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>estoy, desque os conoscí,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>«sin Dios, y sin vos, y mí».</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Sin Dios, porque en vos adoro,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>sin vos, pues no me queréis;</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>pues sin mí ya está de coro</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>que vos sois quien me tenéis.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Assí que triste nascí,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>pues que pudiera olvidaros.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Yo so el que, por amaros,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>estó, desque os conoscí,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>sin Dios, y sin vos, y mí».</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jorge_Manrique">Jorge Manrique ( 1440-1479) </a></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>***</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-113121485686033208?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-36411421758731065482011-03-11T23:50:00.000-08:002011-03-12T04:37:09.611-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">Dracula</span>: Absinthe is the aphrodisiac of the soul. The green fairy who lives in the absinthe wants your soul. But you are safe with me.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">Mina</span>: Tell me, Prince, tell me of your home.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">Dracula</span>: The most beautiful place in all creation.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">Mina</span>: Yes, it must be. A land beyond a great, vast forest surrounded by majestic mountains, lush vineyards, and flowers of such frailty and beauty as to be found nowhere else.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">Dracula</span>: You describe my home as if you had seen it firsthand.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">Mina</span>: It's your voice, perhaps. It's so familiar. It's like a...it's like a voice in a dream I cannot place, and it comforts me.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">Both</span>: When I am alone.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">Mina</span>: And what of the princess?</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">Dracula</span>: Princess?</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">Mina</span>: There is always a princess with gowns flowing white. Her face...her face is the river. The princess, she is the river filled with tears and with sadness and with heartbreak.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666;">Dracula</span>: There was a princess...Elisabetta. She was the most radiant woman in all the empires of the world. Man's deceit took her from her ancient prince. She leapt to her death into the river that you spoke of. In my mother's tongue, it is called "<span style="color: #666666;">Artzeche</span> (or Arges?)",&nbsp;River Princess.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>From the Film:<span style="color: #666666;"> <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dr%C3%A1cula_de_Bram_Stoker">Dracula (1992)</a></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Directed by: <span style="color: #666666;"><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francis_Ford_Coppola">Francis Ford Coppola </a></span></em></strong></span><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;"><span style="color: #999999;">An adaptacion of</span> <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bram_Stoker">Bram Stoker</a><span style="color: #999999;">'s </span><span style="color: #999999;">novel</span></span></em></strong><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em> </em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp; </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>- "Absenta es el afrodisíaco del alma. El hada verde que vive en la absenta quiere tu alma, pero tú estás a salvo conmigo. "</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>- "Háblame, príncipe, háblame de tu hogar. "</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>-&nbsp;"El lugar más hermoso de toda la creación."</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>- "Sí, tiene que serlo. Una tierra más allá de un bosque grande y vasto, rodeada de montañas majestuosas, ubérrimos viñedos, flores de tal fragilidad y belleza como no se encuentran en ningún sitio."</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>-&nbsp;"Has descrito mi lugar como si lo conocieras perfectamente."</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>-&nbsp;"Es tu voz, tal vez. Es tan familiar. Es... como una voz en un sueño que no puedo situar, y me conforta."</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>- "Cuando estoy a solas."</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>- "¿Y que me cuentas de la princesa?"</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>- "¿Princesa?"</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>- " Siempre hay una princesa con deslizantes vestidos blancos y su rostro, su rostro es un río. La princesa es un río lleno de lágrimas de tristeza y congoja."</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>- " Hubo una princesa,...Elisabetta. Era la mujer más radiante de todos los imperios del mundo. El engaño humano se la arrebató a su antiguo príncipe, saltó hacia su muerte en el río del que has hablado. En mi lengua materna se le llama&nbsp; Archís, Río Princesa. "</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Tengo nombres escondidos, mis "otros nombres".</em></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-3641142175873106548?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-58201065811425755622011-03-08T23:26:00.000-08:002011-03-11T12:34:33.088-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"></span></em></span></strong></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: right;"><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>De nuevo el aire de marzo. </em></strong></span><br /><strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times;">Huele a cambio de estación.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-sdRkRLDkZgc/TXcrK_qd67I/AAAAAAAAGlo/1jTQLlJ8rWI/s1600/_DSC8442+-+copia.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" q6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-sdRkRLDkZgc/TXcrK_qd67I/AAAAAAAAGlo/1jTQLlJ8rWI/s320/_DSC8442+-+copia.JPG" width="129" /></a></div></div><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;"></span></em></span></strong></span><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">&nbsp;A pólvora,</span></em></span></strong></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: left;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; a ruido inesperado y atronador,</span></em></span></strong></span><br /><br /></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">a noches de mil colores, </span></em></span></strong></span><br /><br /></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; a fiesta,&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></em></span></strong></span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;a música<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>popular,</span></em></span></strong></span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">a pasacalles, </span></em></span></strong></span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; a multitudes, </span></em></span></strong></span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">a explosión de colores, </span></em></span></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; de brocados y flores</span></em></span></strong></span><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">...</span></em></span></strong></span><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">&nbsp;</span></em></span></strong></span></div></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: left;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><span style="color: #999999;"><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;</span></em></span></strong></span></div></div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: left;"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Pero no me sumergiré en él ni me lo beberé. Observaré&nbsp;&nbsp;inmutable el mes de marzo&nbsp;desde mi atalaya, puestos los ojos en la calidez de abril.</em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, &quot;serif&quot;; line-height: 115%;">***</span></em></strong></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-5820106581142575562?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-81393863673731585272011-03-05T00:57:00.000-08:002011-03-08T15:06:56.669-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;"></span></em></strong><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="290" width="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/gDxovYdEX7Q?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/gDxovYdEX7Q?fs=1&amp;hl=es_ES&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="340" height="290"></embed></object></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean-Philippe_Rameau">Rameau</a>&nbsp;y dos de sus obras barrocas, ballets&nbsp;<span style="color: #666666;">Anacréon</span> y <span style="color: #666666;">Pygmalion</span> en plenitud con los instrumentos y las voces de&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_Arts_Florissants">Les Arts Florissants</a>&nbsp;y bajo la batuta de William Christie.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Una velada exquisita.&nbsp;</em></strong></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8139386367373158527?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-54399564218185606062011-02-28T22:21:00.000-08:002011-02-28T22:27:09.409-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-jSa4RqGrJEM/TWyPVa8kD5I/AAAAAAAAGjw/pA5syOazuOc/s1600/Cuerdas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" l6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-jSa4RqGrJEM/TWyPVa8kD5I/AAAAAAAAGjw/pA5syOazuOc/s320/Cuerdas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¿Cómo sujetar mi alma para</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>que no roce la tuya?</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¿Cómo debo elevarla</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>hasta las otras cosas, sobre ti?</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Quisiera cobijarla bajo cualquier objeto perdido,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>en un rincón extraño y mudo</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>donde tu estremecimiento no pudiese esparcirse.</em></strong></span><br /><br />&nbsp;<span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Pero todo aquello que tocamos, tú y yo,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>nos une, como un golpe de arco,</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>que una sola voz arranca de dos cuerdas.</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¿En qué instrumento nos tensaron?</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¿Y qué mano nos pulsa formando ese sonido?</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Oh, dulce canto!</em></strong></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainer_Maria_Rilke">Rainer Maria Rilke</a></em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-5439956421818560606?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-90206597285106676162011-02-27T11:14:00.000-08:002011-02-28T22:33:37.924-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-nHcmzbvom7Q/TWqlr_FH2BI/AAAAAAAAGjk/TWA6kAsFMXA/s1600/Lluna+gaudint+d%2527Espad%25C3%25A0.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-nHcmzbvom7Q/TWqlr_FH2BI/AAAAAAAAGjk/TWA6kAsFMXA/s320/Lluna+gaudint+d%2527Espad%25C3%25A0.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong>Disfrutando de monte&nbsp;en la sierra de&nbsp;Espadán.</strong></em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong>&nbsp;La primavera se anticipa con bastante antelación&nbsp;&nbsp;a su entrada oficial. Los almendros cuajados, los tomillos y el romero floreciendo y aromatizando, la genista luciendo su brillante&nbsp; vestimenta amarilla...&nbsp;</strong></em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cRBsWHa_11E/TWqjWBxE-fI/AAAAAAAAGjI/MkTYhwMUyBo/s1600/Jara+blanca.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" l6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cRBsWHa_11E/TWqjWBxE-fI/AAAAAAAAGjI/MkTYhwMUyBo/s320/Jara+blanca.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong>La primera Jara blanca de esta temporada se abre con timidez...</strong></em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/--g1WHriO1Rc/TWqgnywgLrI/AAAAAAAAGi0/Ce38ilGl5Iw/s1600/Estepa+blanca+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong><img border="0" height="218" l6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/--g1WHriO1Rc/TWqgnywgLrI/AAAAAAAAGi0/Ce38ilGl5Iw/s320/Estepa+blanca+.jpg" width="320" /></strong></em></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><strong>...para más adelante lucir así de esplendorosa.</strong></em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Times;">***</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-9020659728510667616?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-22247368885315672092011-02-23T14:10:00.000-08:002011-10-07T23:43:20.327-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Salir lejos....volar alto</em></strong></span>....</span></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JIEghO2opfk/TWWFYxWPqKI/AAAAAAAAGfM/ZACDcvtgVes/s1600/Volar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" j6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JIEghO2opfk/TWWFYxWPqKI/AAAAAAAAGfM/ZACDcvtgVes/s320/Volar.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666;">***</span></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"> </span><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Inclinado en las tardes tiro mis tristes redes </em></strong></span></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>a tus ojos oceánicos. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Allí se estira y arde en la más alta hoguera </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>mi soledad que da vueltas los brazos como un náufrago. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Hago rojas señales sobre tus ojos ausentes </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>que olean como el mar a la orilla de un faro. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Sólo guardas tinieblas, hembra distante y mía, </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>de tu mirada emerge a veces la costa del espanto. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Inclinado en las tardes echo mis tristes redes </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>a ese mar que sacude tus ojos oceánicos. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Los pájaros nocturnos picotean las primeras estrellas </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>que centellean como mi alma cuando te amo. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>Galopa la noche en su yegua sombría </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>desparramando espigas azules sobre el campo.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><em><span style="color: #666666;">POEMA 7 </span></em> <strong><em><span style="color: #999999;"></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em><a href="http://www.neruda.uchile.cl/">Pablo Neruda</a></em></strong></span><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-2224736888531567209?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-87746780294088406452011-02-20T06:12:00.000-08:002011-10-07T23:39:36.645-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>El olor maduro de las naranjas en los campos, </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>el perfume del pino aislado y centenario que me acoge metros antes de que mi vista alcance a verlo, </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>la brisa marina desde los puentes,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>la serenidad del mar de invierno</em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>y el amarillo intenso de la flor silvestre que vive hibernando&nbsp;bajo los naranjos, </em></strong></span><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>pedalean y serpentean hoy&nbsp;por los caminos de huerta&nbsp;&nbsp;junto a los recuerdos de&nbsp;&nbsp;"La caseta del secà", junto al cerezo y los almendros,&nbsp;los naranjos y&nbsp;cada árbol frutal plantado con cariño, junto a mis abuelos, a la infancia de mis hijos y a la mía propia.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>&nbsp;Y m</em></strong></span><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>e&nbsp; acompañan también estas sugerentes palabras:&nbsp;hanami, Jerte.</em></strong></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"><strong><em>¡Primavera a las puertas!</em></strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-goPLTci-yd8/TWEg4QfAa7I/AAAAAAAAGdk/NHf5Otnjywg/s1600/Alfinach%252C+febrer+%252709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-goPLTci-yd8/TWEg4QfAa7I/AAAAAAAAGdk/NHf5Otnjywg/s320/Alfinach%252C+febrer+%252709.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">***</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2419692802218705519-8774678029408840645?l=tuca-artzeche.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Artzechehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11254128093506286277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2419692802218705519.post-64197519400021591802011-02-13T00:31:00.000-08:002011-02-13T23:04:51.136-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wwst7_4_cO4/TVe7ZI23r-I/AAAAAAAAGbs/4E1ckZSP-6E/s1600/Al+cor+d%2527Espad%25C3%25A0.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="262" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wwst7_4_cO4/TVe7ZI23r-I/AAAAAAAAGbs/4E1ckZSP-6E/s320/Al+cor+d%2527Espad%25C3%25A0.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quo