Night on an Island

All night I have slept with you 
Next to the sea, on the island. 
Wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep, 
Between fire and water. 

Perhaps very late 
Our dreams joined 
At the top or at the bottom, 
Up above like branches moved by a common wind, 
Down below like red roots that touch. 

Perhaps your dream 
Drifted from mine 
And through the dark sea 
Was seeking me 
As before, 
When you did not yet exist, 
When without sighting you 
I sailed by your side, 
And your eyes sought 
What now – 
Bread, wine, love, and anger – 
I heap upon you 
Because you are the cup 
That was waiting for the gifts of my life. 

I have slept with you 
All night long while 
The dark earth spins 
With the living and the dead, 
And on waking suddenly 
In the midst of the shadow 
My arm encircled your waist. 
Neither night nor sleep 
Could separate us. 

I have slept with you 
And on waking, your mouth, 
Come from your dream, 
Gave me the taste of earth, 
Of sea water, of seaweed, 
Of the depths of your life, 
And I received your kiss 
Moistened by the dawn 
As if it came to me 
From the sea that surrounds us. 

Absence

I have scarcely left you
When you go in me, crystalline,
Or trembling,
Or uneasy, wounded by me
Or overwhelmed with love, as
when your eyes
Close upon the gift of life
That without cease I give you.

My love,
We have found each other
Thirsty and we have
Drunk up all the water and the
Blood,
We found each other
Hungry
And we bit each other
As fire bites,
Leaving wounds in us.

But wait for me,
Keep for me your sweetness.
I will give you too
A rose. 

Pablo Neruda

Estas Flores

Mujer de corazon quemado,
que caminas junto a mi en esta jornada,
que tu mano reciba las flores de este ramo,
unas rojas flores, lo siento si no son flores pobres
de esta tierra dura tierra dura,
pero recibelas de mis manos como si hubieran sido halladas en la mina mas honda,
como si hubieran crecido entre la milpa
o entre el frijol, estas flores y estas frutas hijas del agua
y del trabajo de la gente del campo
estas flores d perfume y espinas
de petalos profundos.

supe al mirarlas que son para Ti
vienen de mi pobreza
y de mi fortaleza florecida, el ramo
de la ternura y mis ganas de escucharte.

Flores para que esten en mi lugar
al lado de la cama, espero que una
de estas noches, el
aroma de estas flores y el tuyo
me guien para regresar desde lejos.

Siempre

Antes de ti
no tengo celos.

Ven con un hombre
a la espalda,
ven con cien hombres en tu cabellera,
ven con mil hombres entre tu pecho y tus
pies,
ven con un rio
lleno de ahogados
que encuentra el mar furioso,
la espuma eterna, el tiempo.

Traelos todos
adonde yo te espero:
siempre estaremos solos,
siempre estaremos tu y yo
solos sobre la tierra
para comenzar la vida.

Your Feet

When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.
Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me. 

Pablo Neruda

Your Laughter

Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.

Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.

My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.

My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.

Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.

Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die. 

Pablo Neruda

The Queen

I  have named you queen.
There are taller than you, taller.
There are purer than you, purer.
There are lovelier than you, lovelier.
But you are the queen.

When you go through the streets
No one recognizes you.
No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks
At the carpet of red gold
That you tread as you pass,
The nonexistent carpet.

And when you appear
All the rivers sound
In my body, bells
Shake the sky,
And a hymn fills the world.

Only you and I,
Only you and I, my love,
Listen to me.

Such is the lot of women, to carry, to bear, to watch, and to loose.

But there is one thing that has power completely, and that is love. Because when a man loves, he seeks no power, and therefore he has power. I see only one hope for our country, and that is when white men and black men, desiring neither power nor money, but desiring only the good of their country, come together and work for it.

Cry the beloved country

- it suited the white man to break the tribe, he continued gravely. But it has not suited him to build something in place of what is broken. I have pondered this for many hours, and I must speak it, for it is true to me. They are not all so. There are some white men who give their lives to build up what is broken.

Cry the beloved country

Que sea un poema, una pintura, un flor pero que dejes algo en la vida para que el mundo sea mejor que cuando llegamos.

Matul.

“I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination...I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons will live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal for which I hope to live for and to see realized. But my lord, if it needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”

Mandela

Why I love AMA, from my experience working with Joe

Asociaciõn de Mujeres del Altiplano: Why I love them and my bias on how to support communities in respectful ways.

I’ve put this post off for some time because I have struggled with how to effectively capture the energy that is going on within the movement of the Asociaciõn de Mujeres del Altiplano (AMA or Association of Women of the Highlands).  Today, I am simply going to write about my experience and the feeling that hits me when I am around AMA’s work, which has been influenced by the shared stories of those involved with the organization.  Quotes here are all from the english translation of my favorite translator, Simone Riddle.

AMA is an organization that strives to support people in creating for themselves rather then trying to fix problems for people.  Myra, a veteran community facilitator and proud Mayan woman, noted that there is a particular mission “to empower women so that they may become independent as well as combat dependency…Dependency is not being able to move forward on your own – you have to rely on someone else…rely on an organization to give you tonight’s food.”  In Guatemala, and in much of the world, many NGOs focus on giving with no plan to support people in creating for themselves.  Dependent relationships are created in that people become used to foreigners entering communities with presents while these people are capable of creating something beautiful on their own.  In addition to and or because of the political situations discussed in past posts, it is often the opportunity to get started that is missing.

Myra at the AMA office

AMA recognizes the potential in communities as well as the rights of individuals and groups to create their own destinies.  Myra continued, “I believe in the mission.  The help goes directly to the community where it’s needed.  Help comes in the form that it is being asked for…in productive projects…we are helping without just giving things away and this is very important.  The way that AMA works with Indigenous women…first the women, which is very important in machismo culture.  And finding out and listening to what they want, which is often finding a form of income.  Often you don’t see that change with other kinds of organizations.  The founders keep on fighting to bring more opportunity to communities.  They don’t leave you alone in this fight.”

AMA often begins working with a community when a women’s circle approaches them at the Xela office.  Initial support from AMA includes programming about economic development, self esteem, and civic participation.  The programming is incorporated into the already existing and culturally appropriate circle where community facilitators (local community leaders in action) bring in material that is appropriate to the unique needs and wishes of the community.  Maria Paola is a new community facilitator and she told me “I was going to school at the time I joined the circle.  I wanted to get rid of fear.  I wanted to participate and enjoy time with other women.  I had a fear of working alongside and sharing with other people.  I had some of these experiences while I was studying but I wanted an opportunity to stand up and share with women who were not my classmates.”

In Paola’s circle, AMA supported in expanding the market for weavings, brought in requested skills training, and has supported people in building community projects.  Not only does this work enhance opportunity for a community, Paola noted, “Now I see the need of the family, I see reality.  I think it is really important that we all work together, that the family works together.”  Paola extrudes a feeling of hope and belief in something better…a feeling that you can only get when around someone who has been a part of something meaningful.  “I want us all to better things as a family and a community, Paola said. I want everyone to get involved.  Women in my community have so much fear. They don’t want to participate. They don’t want to talk.  They don’t dare to get involved.  What I would really like is that we all come together to participate and to look for change.”  She has developed an absolute knowledge that positive change is possible despite whatever challenges arise.  Paola told me with a definite stare, “On our own it’s hard to create change but others, change is possible.  Change might be little but there is a power.”

When I spend time with the people involved in the process that AMA sparks, I feel the energy of a growing community.  In this community, there is love, trust, and magic.  I asked Juana Ambrosia Ramirez, a leader of a community circle, what she thought of the process within AMA.  She replied, “I’m happy to participate in the groups. I enjoy the training, learning new things, the workshops and getting involved in the weaving for the weaving orders.”  There was a joy in Juana’s circle meeting that day as children hung on their mothers and each other.  Women discussed ongoing movement with AMA with bright eyes.

I love AMA because the process is a constant reminder that bundle of sticks cannot be easily broken.  Miguel, a development project coordinator, told me, “I haven’t studied but what I do have is the idea of working and working together.  AMA puts their trust in me and I put my trust in them to complete these projects.  Together, with AMA, we are looking for ways to develop the community.”  There is a promotion of equality and encouragement for all to be involved in change here.  Miguel continued, “We have a leadership group and there is a also a women’s board of directors.  Men and women work together and we talk about the needs of the community.  Together we look at the needs of the community and start to knock on the doors of helping organizations.  When we realized projects like building the road, it is the community that does all the work. If the entire community isn’t working then there is not development…there is no progress.”

Miguel’s words have stuck with me over the past month.  What is true development/empowerment/healing?  My bias: Meaningful movement happens when we stop telling and start listening.  People are intelligent and powerful in unique ways.  If we take the time to develop meaningful and trusting relationships with communities we wish to serve, maybe we will have the privilege of having a part in that movement.  Though ultimately the movement is the movement of the people themselves.  When people do this together and with transparency, it is truly beautiful.

Special Thanks:  In addition to the time granted by the the good people credited above, thank you Ben and Lupe Blevins and Claudia Ramirez for the ongoing love, support, and comradeship.

If you are interested in knowing more about AMA check them outHERE and if you’d like to know how to be involved in service learning projects with AMA and in other projects check out Partners in Service, an organization that provides the most respectful and meaningful volunteer opportunities I’ve seen.

correo de Edwin

Hola Simone

Quizas no me entiendas algunas palabras que te escribo, pero lo que mas me interesa es que quiero que sepas que durante el tiempo que trabajamos juntos en AMA, te fui conociendo y tomando mucho cariño.  Tu forma de ser, tu amistad sincera, tu sonrisa, son detalles que te identifican y te hacen única.  Vas a dejar un vacio en esta Asociacion, pero vas a llenar nuestros corazones de cariño y recuerdos para quienes te queremos en este lugar.  Personalmete te deseo lo mejor de la vida para ti, a donde quiera que vayas y con quien quiera que vayas, llevate una maleta de abrazos y deseos porque todo te salga bien, recuerda siempre que:  "QUIEN ENCUENTRA UN AMIGO, ENCUENTRA UN TESORO".  Si tu me lo permites voy a ser tu amigo hasta donde la comunicacion lo permita y si puedo servirte an algo, ya sabes.

Que seas muy feliz y que tus planes se lleven a cabo con mucho profesionalismo y entrega, como aqui lo demostraste.  Gracias por tu amistad, gracias por tu tiempo, feliz fin de año y recuerda siempre estas frase tan bonita:  "OJALA QUE LA BELLA BARCA DE NUESTRA AMISTAD, NUNCA LLEGUE A CHOCAR CON LA DURA ROCA DEL OLVIDO..."

Email from Deb - animo when I needed it

Dearest Simone,
What a loss for AMA that you are leaving! But what incredible contributions you have made! Thank you so much for all you have done to make Lily Fields a reality and for all that you have done to make our last few trips a wild success. You are such a special person and beloved by all of us Cohens and everyone at Vale. We will miss you terribly but hope we can keep in touch and maybe visit you in the US or the UK some day!

Please let me know your new email. Best wishes for departing Guatemala (I am sure it is not easy after all this time) and embarking on your next chapter. Please know that you have changed the lives of so many -- Mayans and volunteers alike -- carved a permanent place in my heart and a special
place in heaven.

God bless you! Please stay in touch!
Love,
Deb

When I see him, or what is left of him, I will tell him all about the missing part of me and listen for his crying shame, I will exchange then; let him have mine and take his as my own and we will both be free, arm-tangled and whole.

Some thoughts on behalf of Simone, Lottie and Peter Riddle

 Uncle Trevor played an important part in our family life. Throughout Simone and Lottie’s childhood Uncle Trevor would frequently visit Margaret, the girls and I. Whenever he was in the vicinity of the Midands he would drive over to Derbyshire to see us, and he would get up to date with the girls progress and check that everything was well with Margaret and myself. Uncle Trevor would talk to us about the Waldmeyer side of the family, often bringing photographs of Margaret’s father and that side of the family, talk to us about various events in the past, and update us on any significant changes or contacts. Uncle Trevor always remembered Lottie and Simone’s birthdays, and throughout their childhood he congratulated them on their achievements in exams.

We have lovely memories of the extended family meals in Nottingham which Uncle Trevor arranged and at which Lottie and Simone had the opportunity to meet members of the wider family who lived far and wide. He was a generous and kind uncle, always so modest and self-effacing, and who is remembered with great fondness by all three of us.

Simone, Lottie and Peter Riddle       

No me importa si estas desordenada o ordena,
me importas tu Simone

La Yane.

Because you are the cup
that was waiting for the gifts of my life.

I've been lucky, life has sent some inspirational people my way. Too many people have left me, but your influence and the memories live on in who I am today and who I strive to be in the future.

11:02am

sims, just saw dads message about uncle trevor i know we werent that close to him, but i feel he was always an inspiring man, someone who loved and cared for his family. I also feel he was such a strong connection to mum, and remember her fondness of him. brings back some memories

Lottie

Idilio

Solo me alienta el deseo divino de hacerte mía 
mas me destruye la incertidumbre que estoy pasando 
es que la nieve cruel de los años mi cuerpo enfría
Y se me agota ya la paciencia por ti esperando
Y se me agota ya la paciencia por ti esperando

Que a besos yo te levante al rayar el día
Y que el idilio perdure siempre al llegar la noche
Y cuando venga la aurora llena de goce
se funda en una sola tu alma y la mía

Que a besos yo te levante al rayar el día
""el día nos sorprenda corazón""
Y que el idilio perdure siempre al llegar la noche
""la noche sea tan solo de los dos""
Y cuando venga la aurora llena de goce
""juntos solos tu y yo""
se funda en una sola tu alma y la mía 

Que a besos yo te levante al rayar el día
Y que el idilio perdure siempre al llegar la noche
Y cuando venga la aurora llena de goce
se funda en una sola tu alma y la mía

Que a besos yo te levante al rayar el día
""el día nos sorprenda corazón""
Y que el idilio perdure siempre al llegar la noche
""la noche sea tan solo de los dos""
Y cuando venga la aurora llena de goce
""juntos solos tu y yo""
se funda en una sola tu alma y la mía
se funda en una sola tu alma y la mía

soñando contigo queriendo
que se cumpla nuestro idilio
a veces me voy a un rincón
y me quedo en el vacio
sufriendo por ti amor mío
te llama mi corazón

soñando contigo queriendo
que se cumpla nuestro idilio
y veras lo lindo que es el amor
cuando se quiere de verdad
no existe duda no existe el rencor
solo un corazón que es para los dos

guapea willie colon !!!!!!!

soñando contigo queriendo
que se cumpla nuestro idilio
eh yo esperaría mil años
si fuera tu condición
pero el tiempo va volando
ven y calma mi pasión

soñando contigo queriendo
que se cumpla nuestro idilio
y así muy juntos volver a sentir 
que se funden tu alma y la mía
en un abrazo un idilio de amor

The pain of his refusal was visual, for over her heart, curled like a shell, was the hand on which he had positioned the ring. As though she held the broken pieces of her heart together in the crook of a frozen arm.

Jazz, Toni Morrisen

But

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
was implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

I found Heidi's quote...

"Tell him yes,' she said. "Even if you are dying of fear, even if you are sorry later, because whatever you do, you will be sorry for the rest of your life if you say no."

....

The best marriage acceptance line ever:

'Very well, I will marry you if you promise not to make me eat eggplant.'

Love in the time of Cholera.

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands.

For You Today

Of course there is a jackhammer. And a view, like Hopper,

but happier. Of course there is the newspaper—the daily

herald of our powerlessness. Easy go, easy come: thwash,

the next day another, an example of everything that gets done

in the dark. Like the initiative of the crocuses from a snow

that was, as it works out, warming them. Or in this case,

the strange October weather warming them. There were the

conclusions we jumped to. To which we jumped. There was

pain, and then there was suffering. Of course there was my

ambition to offer you the world, but one that I have rearranged

to make sense. Here are all the sensations of being alive

at the turn of the twenty-first century, here’s how they ring out

against each other, here’s how one brings out the sense of

another, here is the yellow next to the fathomless blue.

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

                                                      i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Those who couldn't care less, who won't or can't fathom the honest depths of love and grief, who opt out of the bull-ride through life in favor of the sleeping berth. These are the ones that say it's ridiculous to imagine that the world could be a better place than it is. 

I fight that; I fight as if I were drowning. 

What I find is this, and so it has to be: conquering my own despair by doing what little I can.

Maybe it doesn't cost anything to hope, and those of us who do will be able to live better, more honest lives as believers than we could be cynics.

Kingsolver

It’s good to feel you are close to me in the night, love

It’s good to feel you are close to me in the night, love,

invisible in your sleep, intently nocturnal,

while I untangle my worries

as if they were twisted nets.

Withdrawn, your heart sails through dream,

but your body, relinquished so, breathes

seeking me without seeing me perfecting my dream

like a plant that seeds itself in the dark.

Rising, you will be that other, alive in the dawn,

but from the frontiers lost in the night,

from the presence and the absence where we meet ourselves,

something remains, drawing us into the light of life

as if the sign of the shadows had sealed

its secret creatures with flame.

‘My love, at the shutting of this door of night’

My love, at the shutting of this door of night

I ask of you, love, a journey through a dark pound:

shut out your dreams: enter with your sky my eyes:

stretch out in my blood as if in a wide river.

Goodbye, goodbye, cruel clarity that was dropped

into the bag of every day of the past:

goodbye to every gleam of clocks or oranges:

welcome oh shadow, periodic friend!

In this boat, or water, or death, or new life,

one more time we unite, slumbering, resurrected:

we are the marriage of the night in the blood.

I don’t know who lives or dies, sleeps or wakes,

but it is your heart that delivers,

to my chest, the gifts of the dawn.

Perhaps not to be is to be without your being

Perhaps not to be is to be without your being,
without your going, that cuts noon light
like a blue flower, without your passing
later through fog and stones,
without the torch you lift in your hand
that others may not see as golden,
that perhaps no one believed blossomed
the glowing origin of the rose,
without, in the end, your being, your coming
suddenly, inspiringly, to know my life,
blaze of the rose-tree, wheat of the breeze:
and it follows that I am, because you are:
it follows from ‘you are’, that I am, and we:
and, because of love, you will, I will,
We will, come to be. 

True is not merely the absence of tension. It's the presence of justice.

Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in.

Homelessness is the loss first of community and finally of the self.

Kingsolver

On the matter of individual deaths, I believe those in my own neighbourhood are ones I need to attend to first, by means of casseroles and whatever else I can off. I also believe it's possible to be so overtaken and stupified by the tragedies of the world that we don't have any time or energy left for those closer to home, the hurts we should take as our own.

But  I have a different sort of brain. For me, knowing does not replace doing. I find I sometimes need time off from the world of things I can't do anything about so I may be granted the serenity to accept the things I can, and the wisdom to know the  difference.

Barbara Kingsolver.

Lo mas importante que todo

Cuando el ejército nacional
de ocupación en el país,
desbarató la huelga
de los ferrocarrileros
por más pan, un obrero decía:
“Verdad que lo dije.
No se puede luchar
contra la fuerza bruta.
Lo dije.  Y nadie me creía.
Somos, en verdad, tan débiles
y estamos tan solos
que lo mejor será
aguantarse en el trabajo,
para que nadie nos despida.
Así no tendremos
que morirnos del hambre.”

Y un fogonero, agregaba:
“Uno se acostumbra
tanto a sufrir,
que nada puede dolerle más
de lo que ya le duele.
Sería mejor ahorrar
para el entierro.”
Y otro obrero, decía:
“No somos nada. Nada.
Absolutamente nada.
Y no podemos hacer nada.

Y otro dijo:
“Son cosas del destino.
Nos ha tocado ser pobres.
Y seguiremos siendo pobres
hasta la consumación
de todos los siglos.”

Mas vino un último
que hablo así:
“El hombre no tiene destino.
Tan solo tiene manos, y lo que él
hace con ellas, 
es lo que el hombre nombra su destino,
su biografía, su leyenda.
Mirad, por ejemplo, vuestras manos:
son tan fuertes y potentes.
Y son la cuerda del mundo.
Y mirad vuestros rostros:
tienen aspecto de futuro.
Y en ellos despunta la victoria.
Y si alguien duda,
porque nos han derrotado
por ahora, debe saber
que el tiempo
traer una sonrisa roja
en lo más blando
de su alma.
¿Qué se hizo, por ejemplo,
el puño de acero inoxidable
de los viejos tiranos?
¿En dónde están
los viejos zares.
Los antiguos mandarines.
Los sombríos amos
de la Europa oriental?
¿Dónde se esconden
ahora los colonialistas?
¿Dónde están
Los que habían envilecido
a Cuba
y afrentado el gesto azul
del mar Caribe?
No lo olviden,
Compañeros,
el tiempo trae
una sonrisa roja
con olor a mandato de masas.
Si no hoy, será mañana.
Si no es mañana, será después.
Siempre existe un después
para cada derrota.
Y los perseguidos de ahora
Serán los perseguidores de mañana.
No olviden esto, caballeros verdugos:
La derrota de hoy
será la victoria de mañana.”
Y luego que habló,
se confundió con la masa
de obreros derrotados.

Y nadie más
Sintió inútil ese día,
en el que las tropas
nacionales de ocupación,
habían desbaratado la huelga
de lo ferrocarrileros por más pan.
He aquí, pues, lo más importante
de hablar siempre con el pueblo.
Aun en las horas
de las más graves decepciones,
no lo olvidéis nunca,
compañeros,
la palabra revolución
va siempre unida
al vocablo esperanza.

Que es el exito?

Es poder irse a la cama cada noche con el alma en Paz.

Ulysses

It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Matched with an agèd wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known; cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honoured of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains: but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this grey spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle— Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil This labour, by slow prudence to make mild A rugged people, and through soft degrees Subdue them to the useful and the good. Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere Of common duties, decent not to fail In offices of tenderness, and pay Meet adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail: There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me— That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old; Old age hath yet his honour and his toil; Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks: The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Alfred,Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

"sabes te dije,
me marchare en diciembre."
"Y ya me duele
horriblemente,
el ultimo dia de noviembre,
en el cual comenzaran
solo diciembres para mi"...

..
Pero aunque seguimos imponiendonos
al frio, y seguimos viviendo.
T aqui ajunto con la bandera que amo,
me iluminan todavia tus ojos,
amor mio.

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.