November 23, 2024 3:08 pm

FORGIVE THE MOON – Poetry, Endre Ady

FORGIVE THE MOON Sour, mutilates, over large areas, perhaps the tenth time so, as a clumsy stripped wanderer, passing the Moon. On its face, the tired smile of old rascals, and under her, the camp gets up with a sentence that is lost in sighs. plain covered with wounds, sterile and lean, in a subdued light, ironic, the moon bathes …

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THE TIME ATLAS – The wonders of the National Anthropology Museum in Mexico City

You think getting into a Museum of Anthropology is a useless thing? Perhaps, you have not had a chance to get into the National Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City. What you find inside that special place (considered, for its museological conception, one of the best museums in the world), it came back to sunlight during archaeological excavations citizens. Looking …

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LOVE – Poetry, by Edith Irene Södergran

LOVE My soul was a light blue dress color of the sky. I left him on a cliff, at the sea, and naked I came to you, resembling a woman. And as a woman, I sat at your table, and I drank a cup of wine, I breathed in the scent of roses. You found me beautiful, that I looked …

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A PORT IN THE MEDITERRANEAN – Poetry, by Henrik Nordbrandt

A PORT IN THE MEDITERRANEAN I do not know what is more important, the spicy sweetness of bitter coffee, mixed with the taste of the first cigarette in the morning, or the smell of fish and boats, freshly painted. The washed clothes on the wire, between the almond trees in bloom, or the mountains that put them in prominence. No, …

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WHEN NOT EXIST ILLUSTRATED BOOKS – Ambrogio Lorenzetti: speaking clearly, with colors and chromatic expressions

AMBROGIO LORENZETTI 1/4 – He is one of the masters of the fourteenth century Sienese school, a painter who has remained famous for the strong allegorical component of his work. Observing what he paints, you can admire the humanity of the subjects represented. He died in 1348, the plague that decimated the population of Europe. In his will, he has …

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BLACK MAPS – Poetry, by Mark Strand

BLACK MAPS Not the attendance of stones, nor the applauding wind, shall let you know you have arrived. Nor the sea that celebrates only departures, nor the mountains, nor the dying cities. Nothing will tell you, where you are. Each moment is a place, you’ve never been. You can walk, believing you cast a light around you. But how will …

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SUMMER – Poetry by Abai Kunanbaev

SUMMER Summer climbs the mountains. Flowers overcolour and blanch. Men leave the sun and sit, tree-tented, by the cold creek. Horses bray, each apart in the warm air, and the long grass whiffles in a lime plain. Hushed and still, the horseherd stand in whiter-high; and wave the flies away with silk-swish tails; and colts clatter the air, rippling the …

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BETWEEN GOING AND STAYING – Poetry by Octavio Paz

ENTRE IRSE Y QUEDARSE > Entre irse y quedarse duda el día, enamorado de su transparencia. La tarde circular es ya bahía. En su quieto vaivén se mece el mundo. Todo es visible y todo es elusivo, todo está cerca y todo es intocable. Los papeles, el libro, el vaso, el lápiz reposan a la sombra de sus nombres. Latir …

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NIGHT ON THE ISLAND – Poetry by Pablo Neruda

LA NOCHE EN LA ISLA > Toda la noche he dormido contigo junto al mar en la isla. Salvaje y dulce eras entre el placer y el sueño, entre el fuego y el agua. Tal vez muy tarde nuestros sueños se unieron en lo alto o en el fondo, arriba como ramas que un mismo viento mueve, abajo como rojas …

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REMOTE, WILD AND SILENT – Travel along the north coast of Scotland

Yes, the bay is really wide. Just from that bay ferries leave for Orkney and Shetland. Thurso is really a small town, but this scenic part of Scotland’s northern coast, offers a starting point for many, very many small and valuable discoveries. Dounreay, gives the opportunity to visit the Atomic Energy Exhibition, but crossing the estuary of Stath Naver and …

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SAYING SOMETHING – Poetry, by Carol Ann Duffy

SAYING SOMETHING  Things assume your shape. Discarded clothes, a damp shroud in the bathroom, vacant hands. This is not fiction. This is the plain and warm material of love. My heart assumes it. We wake. Our private language starts the day. We make familiar movements through the house. The dreams we have no phrases for slip through our fingers into …

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