Here I am. Back after many months. I would plead work, thesis or many things ... however, I must say that the main thing was the boredom, the better, the spleen . It was not fatigue NDA, were simply the desire to say nothing, or words that were and would not let me say anything. He spent a lot and all I write, I did not and is not the time to do so, are those things that after a while, ceased to be current, they lose some of its meaning. Many things, unamitas in Ecuador, consultation, reforms are not reached, the deceptions, deaths ... many things, after a long process, I graduated with a thesis on the ballads, a thesis I wrote with taste, flavor, a thesis with which I met a literary world that I never imagined such a complex and rich, and yet I wrote a thesis without the passion with which I was accustomed to do things ... many things, a horrible introductory course to enter the master classes in automatically, without rhyme or reason, without a clear, intellectual platitudes and an underestimation insulting (to some) ... lot, the entrance to the master, back to my project, return to the passion, emotion and thinking of making poetry from deep intellectual, visceral from the hypothalamus, from the desire to read widely and write what is necessary .. .
.
I'm happy, I feel half but in the process, as I like to feel. I will use the break to rest, resume writing and reading what I like. I will take vacation and think you, idle reader, will suffer.
.
[By the way, good old Alfredo Carrera has sent me a prize. Thanks, man, by the cebollazo, reading and patience after time. Will a hug.]
.
And to continue, not my voice, but Francisco:
The resignation of the witness.
And how I've matured. In this light
'm dead and fall. There is a light, which is cold,
........................................ ......................... black, black. They waited
my eyes here that the sky was always grilled
and the stars appeared, pure, live,
in the same place (and before the man was
and that was the flower and bird), the exact
beauty of the eternal birth.
Nothing mattered then go.
remained light and was eternal.
The world's youth, his joyful beat, was itself testimony
demi life.
Who could extinguish the flames in my eyes?
flashed to live, and I bore witness
existence.
Now watch this sky and see its light tamibén has aged.
The stars were not young. Or eternal.
And I've witnessed,
with my life, no permanence.
black Spirit will give me his wing, and the Spirit
white born of it, know the essence of Light,
their absence.
.
I'm happy, I feel half but in the process, as I like to feel. I will use the break to rest, resume writing and reading what I like. I will take vacation and think you, idle reader, will suffer.
.
[By the way, good old Alfredo Carrera has sent me a prize. Thanks, man, by the cebollazo, reading and patience after time. Will a hug.]
.
And to continue, not my voice, but Francisco:
The resignation of the witness.
And how I've matured. In this light
'm dead and fall. There is a light, which is cold,
........................................ ......................... black, black. They waited
my eyes here that the sky was always grilled
and the stars appeared, pure, live,
in the same place (and before the man was
and that was the flower and bird), the exact
beauty of the eternal birth.
Nothing mattered then go.
remained light and was eternal.
The world's youth, his joyful beat, was itself testimony
demi life.
Who could extinguish the flames in my eyes?
flashed to live, and I bore witness
existence.
Now watch this sky and see its light tamibén has aged.
The stars were not young. Or eternal.
And I've witnessed,
with my life, no permanence.
black Spirit will give me his wing, and the Spirit
white born of it, know the essence of Light,
their absence.
Francisco Brines, The last shore
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