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binding,











I've been saying since September last year, when we started in the Tie:'re doing a tour of the neighborhoods that need us most , for the most disadvantaged in our capital. They are also called marginal, but I do not like to say so. Because we all get educated children, wearing shoes with small schools and houses of the family doctor. In all there hard and selfless workers and decent families, but along the same streets to slide crooks and violent. We sing for everyone. The Music makes a ceasefire. The savage is tamed and out what they have boyfriends, of children and siblings. And the neighborhood becomes a family together, smiling, applauding themselves the wonder that is capable of being.

Men S E Xtoy Doll Woman

mountain music in the island's independence











In the municipality of Marianao, "Island powder is known as a small community of the ancient quarter of Pogolotti, which meets these days 100. In the center of this place stands a leafy tree that can only be pruned by nature. Under its protective branches became a playground for children.

Beside the swings was the stage from which a group of cultural workers share with neighbors. Victor Casaus, on behalf of the writers and the Center Pablo de la Toriente Brau, donated a library of 300 books. The Maestro Frank Fernandez presented with his piano works of Bach, Mozart and Gonzalo Roig, and invited the flutist Niurka González. Finally we had to Trovarroco, Oliver Valdés, Niurka and I offer a group of songs.

As in all the districts we visited, there was a radiant aura of love. I can attest to all that was. I put a few photos that I could do in the middle of my dual role of host and presenter. The three initial snapshot was the first thing we saw as we approached "The island of dust."

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powder another name for the dignity

Eduardo Galeano

I dedicate this tribute to the living memory of two Carlos: Carlos Lenkersdorf and Carlos Monsivais, dear friends who are no longer, but they remain. ***



And I start by saying thank you: Thank you, Marcelo, for this gift, this joy. I say thanks on behalf of itself and on behalf of many southerners who never forget their gratitude to Mexico the country of his exile, refuge of the persecuted in the years of filth and fear of our military dictatorships.

And I want to emphasize that Mexico deserves, for this and for many other reasons, all our sympathy, now that this land dear is a victim of the hypocrisy of universal narcosistema, where some put the nose and others are dying, and a state war and others receive the shots. ***



This generous act I am honored to come to him who came. Mexico City is at the forefront in the struggle for human rights in a range that goes from the sexual diversity to the right to breathe, which already seemed lost. And much

I am honored to receive this gift, because much has to challenge in our country full independence is still largely a task to do, that brings us together every day. ***



In the city of Quito, the day after independence, an anonymous hand wrote on a wall: Last day of despotism and first of the same.

And in Bogota, shortly after, Antonio Nariño warned that patriotic rebellion was becoming masked ball, and that independence was in the hands of men from starchy and much button, and wrote: We have moved from masters. And the Chilean

Santiago Arcos checking, from prison:

"The poor have enjoyed the glorious independence as long as the horses in Chacabuco and Maipú charged against the king's troops. ***



All our nations were born lied. Who renounced independence, fighting for her life had been played and the women, the illiterate, the poor, Indians and blacks were not invited to the party. I advise taking a look at our first constitution, which gave legal status to such mutilation. The Constitutions granted the right of citizenship to the few who could buy it. Others, and others, remained invisible. ***



Simon Rodriguez had a reputation as a madman, and so they called it: the crazy. Saying crazy things, like:

, we are independent but we are not free. The wisdom of Europe and the prosperity of the United States are, in our America, two enemies of freedom of thought. Our America should not slavishly imitate, but to be original.

Also:

-Teach children to be inquisitive, to become accustomed to obeying reason: not as the limited authority, or custom as fools. When he does not know any tricks him. He who does not have anyone to purchase. Don Simon said

follies and it was crazy. Back in 1820-something, mixed schools for boys and girls, the poor and the rich, Indians and whites, and joined the head and hands, because they taught to read and add, and also working with wood and earth. In their classrooms were not being heard Latinos sacristy and defied the tradition of contempt for manual labor. Experience did not last long. A cry of angry voices demanding the expulsion of the satyr that has come to corrupt the youth, and Marshal Sucre, president of the country we now call Bolivia, demanded his resignation.

Thereafter, he traveled by mule, pilgrimage on the Pacific coast and the mountains of the Andes, founding schools and asking questions unbearable to the new owners of power: "You

that mimic everything that comes from Europe and the United States, why do not you imitate originality, which is most important?

This old tramp, bald, ugly, potbellied, the boldest and most lovable of the thinkers of America, was ever more alone and died alone.

At eighty years, wrote:

"I wanted to make the earth a paradise for everyone. I made a hell for me. ***



Simón Rodríguez was a loser. Depending on the scale of values \u200b\u200bof this world, which consecrates the success and failure does not forgive the men like him deserve no memory.

But does not Mr. Simon live in the power of dignity that our America today travels from north to south? How many speak through his mouth, but do not know, as he spoke in prose that Molière's character who did not know who was speaking in prose?

Do not Don Simon continues to teach us a century and a half after his death, that independence is another name of dignity? It is true that still weighs, and much, colonial heritage, which welcomes the creation and curses back and admire, such as complaints Don Simon, the virtues of the monkey and the parrot. But it is also true that they are increasingly young people who feel that fear is a prison humiliating and boring, and dare to think freely with their own heads, feel with their own hearts and walk with their own legs. ***



I do not believe in God but do believe in the human miracle of the resurrection. Because maybe they were wrong those mourners who refused to believe in the death of Emiliano Zapata, and believed that he had gone to Saudi on a white horse, but it is only wrong on the map. Because the view is that Zapata is still alive, though not so far, not in the sands of the East: he walks riding around here, just near here, wanting justice and making.

And mark you what has happened with another loser, José Artigas, the man who made the first land reform in America, before Lincoln and before Zapata.

almost two centuries ago, he was defeated and condemned to solitude and exile. In recent years, Uruguay's military dictatorship he built a grandiose mausoleum, trying to lock him in jail marble. But when the dictatorship tried to decorate the monument with some of his sentences, he found none that were not subversive. Now the mausoleum has dates and names of battles, and no sentence. Involuntary homage, unintentional confession is not dumb Artigas, Artigas is still dangerous. Curiously

: with so many living who speak without words, in our land they say is dead silent.



*** Blessed are the losers, because they made the insolence to love their land, and thereby risked their lives. But it is seen that patriotism is the honorable privilege of the dominant countries: only those who rule have the right to be patriots. In contrast, the dominated countries, condemned to perpetual obedience, patriotism can not exercise on pain of being called populists, demagogues delusions: our patriotism is considered a pest, dangerous fever, and the masters of the world we take consideration of Democracy, have a nasty habit of averting the threat of fire and blood.

Blessed are the losers, because they refused to repeat the story and wanted to change it.

Blessed are the losers, and cursed be those who confuse the world with a race track and thrown to climb the heights of success licking up and down spitting.

Blessed are the angry, and damn the undeserving. Damn

successful dictatorship of fear that compels us to believe that reality is untouchable and that solidarity is a fatal disease, because the neighbor is always a threat and never a promise. Blessed

is the hug, and cursed be the nudge.



*** Yes, but ... many losers, right?

When a journalist asked me if I'm an optimist, I answer honestly:

"Sometimes. Depends on time.

always seemed rather inhuman optimists full time.

I think the disappointment is a human right, and somehow it is also proof that we are human, it would not suffer the disappointment if we had no breath.

Admittedly not very encouraged by the fact that you have the habit of rewarding fucking reamers for other people and the exterminators of the earth, water and air. And yet, the most exciting adventures of transformation of reality tend to stop half-way, or lost and lost, and often end badly.

Let's face it, I say, but one should ask: When these collective experiences end up pretty bad, do you really end? Is there nothing to do, we just resign and accept the world as it is, like destiny? A few years ago it became fashionable to the theory of history. More than one is swallowed the toad, though common sense shows us, with powerful simplicity, that history is born anew each morning.

best thing about this matter of living is the ability to surprise that life has. Who could foresee that Arab countries would live this hurricane of freedom that are now living? Who would believe that Tahrir Square would give the world this lesson in democracy? Who would believe what they believe the boy may now planted in the square for days and nights, when he says: Nobody is going to lie anymore?

the end of the day, when history say goodbye, or so it seems that she is telling us, or at least muttering, until then, until lueguito, we are seeing.

And I leave you, now it's time, as history taught me saying thanks, saying goodbye, to lueguito, we are seeing.

* Remarks on 22 February 2011, at the ceremony Medal 1808, the head of the Government of Mexico City, Marcelo Ebrard, gave the writer Eduardo Galeano

Taken from La Jornada: http: / / www.jornada.unam.mx/2011/02/23/index.php?section=opinion&article=014a1pol

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started again! THANKS

started back to work. Because the struggle is what you have, you can not or should fail to actually bear fruit. Therefore, 2011 will continue fighting this cancer with the best that we do, which is creating.

English Association Against Cancer in Seville Provincial Board, wanted to have us again. From here, We can only thank their momentum and confidence in the project Tolentino. If they want us to work with more desire still going to do.

So this year we introduced new . We want to fill every corner of Tolentino, because it will mean that the message we want to get it heard. We want everyone to know the importance of prevention, the need for research, awareness, support to families who suffer from a disease we want to go away: breast cancer. And we're sure they will disappear. With the input and effort from everyone.

Tolentino is priced at 27 euros. Here you can buy .

Tolentino will remain our pin badge. The face of all those fighting breast cancer. The pink ribbon with a face. The Lulaila with a conscience. But Tolentino grows.

The bracelet with heart Tolentino is priced at 12 euros. You can buy here.

Lulaila
's Garden bring to other limited editions and exclusive Faubourg collection. As Tolentino bracelet with heart. A bracelet made with a pink leather gold heart charm. Of the heart that symbolizes the support, love and strength.

All parts always donate their profits to the AECC.

This year's lineup change. Print it and hang it in your work. High scream that what Tolentino want. And if you want to send A3 size posters, just asking us to yotambien@eljardindelulaila.es

Click to view full size and print.

Thanks. Please keep listening and spread the message. Not be forgotten, is what drives us.

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Google Message to President

My friend Dr Ricardo Seir, who yesterday urged me to address the Internet Summit to be held United States, giving me even more encouragement later wrote

"One of my patients works at Google. Make a request [...] and I will get to do it with the intention that the chief send more (not whether or not it was the reunion with Obama, but I guess it did). Do you think? "

To which I replied:

" The proposal is simple: the world is very uneven and could avoid a lot of pain with an action that would contribute to a global leap: a belt of satellites to provide Internet Third World. I am sure that is something that is available to those brains (and wallets) privileged. "

This is the letter that Dr Seir wrote to his friend who works at Google. Below is displayed the translation.
Dear

Kari: Silvio Rodriguez

is one of the most influential singer-songwriters in the English speaking world. He has inspired 3 generations of people for more than 40 years, with his social influenced lyrics, his high standard poetry writing and his beautiful music. He is praised by Nobel Prize winners, Heads of States and many influential people in the world. Many artists consider him an inspiration for their careers and others have recorded his songs.
He lives in Cuba. He was recently performing in the US after he was given a Visa that was negated to him for many, many years. (I believe more than 30)

I met Silvio about 16 years a go and we have became friends. He has a blog, and we were discussing the recent meeting that president Obama had with the people who has influenced the Internet and the technology world. I believe one of your bosses, Mr. Schmidt was in that meeting.

I asked the hypothetical question that if Silvio was in that meeting what he would have asked (remember again, he lives in Cuba). He said that he would say something like this:

“The world is in complete disparity and a lot of pain could be avoided with actions that could contribute to a quality global jump: A belt of satellites that would give Internet to the “Third World”. He added that something like this could be achievable because he considers them very intelligent people (and because of their deep pockets)”

Some people in the blog immediately said that he would be received with a kick in his butt. I said that I believed (and guarantied) that he would be listen to, because the people at that meeting are very like him, including president Obama (with their difference in their political views): They are high achievers and that nothing would stop them on working of what they really believe, and in their dreams.

I also said that I would try to help him in sending his message (since it was my idea to ask the question about the hypothetical meeting). Is there any way to forward this letter to Mr. Schmidt or Mr. Page?

Thanks in advance,

Dr. Seir.

Querida kari:

Silvio Rodríguez es uno de los más influyentes escritores de canciones en el mundo de habla hispana. 3 He has inspired generations of people for over 40 years with his lyrics socially engaged, high standard and beautiful poetic music. Has been praised by several characters who have won Nobel Prizes, Heads of State and many influential people in the world. Many artists consider him an inspiration in their careers and others have recorded his songs. He lives in Cuba and recently was granted a visa to sing in the United States, which had been denied for many years (I think more than 30). Silvio

met 16 years ago and we became friends. He has a blog, where we have been discussing the recent meeting between President Obama with the most influential people in the world technology and the Internet. I think one of your boss, Eric Schmidt was in this meeting.

I ask hypothetically that if he had been right to speak at this meeting, I would have said (remember he lives in Cuba). His approach is as follows:

"The world is very uneven and could avoid a lot of pain with an action that would contribute to a global leap: a ring of satellites to provide Internet to the third world. I am sure that is something that is available to those brains (and wallets) privileged. "

Some people immediately jumped on the blog and said that he would be greeted with a kick in the butt. I I said I believed (and guaranteed) that would be heard because the people who attended that meeting were very similar to the including President Obama (across political) people who have achieved great things and never could be arrested in their dreams.

also said I would try to help send the message (because it was my idea of \u200b\u200bthe hypothetical question.) Is there any way to send you this letter to Mr. Schmidt and Mr. Page?

Thanks in advance, Dr. Seir

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own internet and president obama: build a satellite network that will give free internet to the third world! Ode to Walt Whitman

Im 13 And Masterbate Y Do I

On the East River and the Bronx
teaching the boys sang their waists,
with the wheel, oil, leather and hammer. Ninety thousand miners
drew silver from the rocks and the children drew
stairs and perspectives.

But no one slept,
none wanted to be the river, none loved
large leaves, none
bluetongue from the beach.

On the East River and the Queensborough
the boys struggled with the industry, and the Jews sold
the faun of the Rose River

circumcision and the sky flowed over the bridges and rooftops
herds of bison driven by wind.

But none stopped, none wanted to be
cloud, looking none

ferns and yellow wheel the drum.


When the moon rises to overthrow the pulleys roll heaven
needle close to a limit of memory
and the coffins will be those who do not work.

silt New York, New York
wire and death.
angel What have you hidden in your cheek? What perfect voice
tell the truths of the wheat?
Who the terrible dream of stained anemones?

Not a single moment, beautiful old Walt Whitman,
I failed to see your beard full of butterflies,
nor your corduroy shoulders frayed by the moon, nor your thighs
Apollo's virginal,
nor thy voice like a column ash;
old
beautiful as the mist that moaned like a bird with sex
pierced by a needle,
enemy of satyr

enemy of the vine and the lover of the bodies under rough cloth. No time
,
manly beauty in mountains of coal, announcements and railways,
dreamed of being a river and sleep like a river
with that comrade who would your chest pain
an ignorant little leopard.

Not a single moment, Adam's blood, macho, man
alone at sea, beautiful old Walt Whitman,
it from the rooftops,
grouped in the bars, coming in bunches
sewers,
trembling between the legs of the chauffeurs
or turning on the platforms of wormwood,
fags, Walt Whitman, I dreamed.

that also! Too! And they hurl
light on your beard and caste
North blond, black sand,
crowds shouting and gestures,
as cats and snakes,
fags, Walt Whitman, the pansies
turbid tears meat for the whip, boot or bite
tamers.

that also! Too!
stained fingers point to the edge of your dream
when a friend eats your apple
with a slight taste of gasoline and the sun sings

the navels of the boys who play under bridges.

But you did not look scratched eyes,
or darkest swamp where children dive, or saliva
icy curves
or injured as a frog belly queers
carrying cars and terraces as the moon
hits in the corners of terror.

you were looking for a nude that was like a river,
dream bull wheel coupled with the algae,
father of your agony, your death Camellia,
and moan in the flames of your hidden Ecuador.

Because it is just that men do not find your delight in the forest
blood the next morning.
Heaven has beaches where life is avoided and there are bodies
not be repeated in the morning.

Agony, agony, dream, ferment and sleep.
This is the world, my friend, agony, agony.
Dead decompose under the watch of cities, the war goes
crying with a million gray rats,
the rich give their loved ones dying young
illuminated
and life is not noble, nor good, nor sacred.

Man can, if you will, driving your desire
by coral or blue vein bare.
Tomorrow loves rocks and Time will be a breeze that comes
sleeping through the branches.

why not raise my voice, old Walt Whitman, against the child

girl's name written on his pillow,
or against the guy who dresses as a bride
in the darkness of the wardrobe, nor the solitary
of casinos in disgust
drinking water prostitution,
or against green-eyed men
who love men and burn their lips in silence.
But against you, queers of cities,
of tumescent flesh and unclean thoughts,
mud mothers, harpies, sleepless enemies
Love partitioning crowns of joy.

against you always, to give boys dirty drops
death with bitter poison. Against
you always, Faeries
North American Birds
Havana Jacks
Mexico, Sarasa
of Cadiz, Seville
celery, Cancer
Madrid, Alicante
Floras,
Adelaide of Portugal.

Queers around the world, murderers of pigeons! Slaves
women bitches its vanities,
open squares
fan fever or stiff ambushes landscape of hemlock.

no quarter! Death

flows from your eyes and gray flowers grouped on the banks of silt.
no quarter! Warning! That
confused, cigars,
the classics, those identified
supplicants I shut the doors of the bacchanal.

And you, beautiful Walt Whitman, sleep on the banks of the Hudson
with chin toward the pole and open hands.
Soft clay or snow, your tongue is calling
comrades to ensure your body gazelle.
Sleep, nothing remains.
A dance of waving prairie
walls and America drowns itself in machinery and tears.
I want the strong air of the deepest night
remove flowers and letters of where you sleep
bow and a black child to announce
white gold coming of the kingdom of the post.


Federico García Lorca (1898-1936)

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questions from a worker who reads a little

Who built Thebes of the seven Doors?

books in the names of kings.

kings "dragged blocks of stone?

And Babylon, destroyed many times,

who always build it back? In what houses of gold

Lima lived their builders?

Where did the masons on the night was finished

Wall of China?

the great Rome is full of triumphal arches. Who erected them?



Upon whom won the Caesars? Do Byzantium, as sung,

only had palaces for its inhabitants? Even in fabled Atlantis

,

night when the sea swallow, the sinking, cried

calling their slaves.

The young Alexander conquered India.

alone?

Caesar defeated the Gauls.

Did he even cook?

Philip of Spain wept when his fleet was sunk

. Do not cry no more?

Federico II won the Seven Years' War Who



also beat him?

Each page a victory.

Who cooked the feast of victory?

Every ten years a great man.

Who paid the expenses?

So many stories.

many questions. Bertolt Brecht

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With a little love survive, survive
sin and guilt.
With a little love I saved
just a little love and am something.
With a little love
enriched me so much that he spent

and was always my little love.

With a little love to get up
my daily thirst and fear.
With a little love I progress,
singing hymns, hate me, I'm a prisoner.
With a little love
enriched me so much, that was always spent

and my little love.

With a little love was woven
my skin and my bones chisel was a little love.
With a little love
myself, am you, am he.

With a little love will continue, despite
most a few thousand of love.
With a little love,
working for a little more.

With a little love survive, survive
sin and guilt.
With a little love I saved
just a little love and am something.
With a little love
enriched me so much that he spent

and was always my little love. 1986

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love does not always mean no forgetting the past eight

"Absence means forgetting "Jaime Prats


I should think in this short life has continued absence. And it will be when there is no return, as if for something no one is indispensable to the claims.

The Adrimar321 test and just complaints of lack of care for the disabled, struggle as she wears a flag burning, to the point that sometimes it feels hopeless and alone. Reading it felt that one reason he supported the revolution from the beginning was the certainty that patients would have the dignity they deserved. So it was difficult for a 12, also healthy, have awareness that justice would health, but what he did know, by abundant family experiences, is that a revolution must take the people of all the misery you can. As part of that kind of miracle that occurred in Cuba, especially in the first decade, for all these years of real effort, progress, errors and corrections, Adriana: I regret that since Cuba can not always help, as we would like to everyone who needs it. I'm relieved, a little, know that we have reached out to many, even far from our land, as evidenced by the tens of thousands of Cuban doctors who go around the world healing and relieving pain. I know that only lives a misery knows the exact weight of his cross. That's something I've always inspired respect.

Manuel A.
say you know I supported the Puerto Rican youth, but to continue doing so, that I have media power and you do not. Well I'll confess, my dear brother, that the only media power that I have right now I am sharing with you, as I do with anyone who exposes a cause which it considers just. All who pass by this blog-which according to their reports tend to be more than 2000 newspapers, you read, we read, we read. Maybe some, the least ready, just look what it says "famous." But I'm sure that most deeply, finds and feeds on a variety of reasons that this blog provides almost daily. So do not hesitate to support and will support university students to copy your / my beloved land of Borinquen. At this very moment we're doing you and I together, just by discussing it.

Mimi:
I've been catching up slowly. So I come to your desire to connect with the Five. For this I recommend that you contact with Rosa (Cuban Moth), which is an old fighter for the cause and maybe you can help.

Those who do not know, I wish to announce that two days ago started the International Book Fair of Havana, according to custom, after one month will be touring the island. With this show and have been twenty. Do you know more one million people, of the 11 that we are, they visit?

Finally something nice to say that I moved within each time we send a little message Catalina. Not only because it is the youngest segundacitera we could imagine, but because I love the girls and boys. I live all I can surrounded by children, which is the best way to live, learn new things or to give an overview of memory (which is not the same, but the same).

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moonlit



In an observation campaign with the largest optical telescope in the world (Gran Telescopio Canarias, GTC) was obtained this sequence of photos which shows the evolution of cloudiness (with clouds illuminated by street lights) and the movement of the dome of the GTC.

Photos of this observation

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J1148 +5251 detected with an amateur telescope

Dr. Christian Sasse has got this fabulous picture of quasar J1148 +5251 (redshift z = 6.41) observed after overnight (144 x 300s) with Telescope GRAS-017- in Nerpio Astrocamp . More information: The Edge of everithing .

This robotic telescope and many more are available for use at a distance by fans around the world through the internet with Global Rent a Scope (GRAS) having observatories in Australia, New Mexico (USA) and Nerpio ( Albacete).

Unit 4-6 Level E Answers

Noting the largest optical telescope in the world




Astronomers eager (Pablo Pérez González & Jaime Zamorano) hoping to improve the conditions of seeing to observe with GTC, the largest optical telescope in the world. These observations are part of the shards ESO / GTC Large Program.

More images from this observation campaign in 2011_02_LaPalmaGTC

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Here are the last eight poems by Antonio Guerrero wrote in 2010 in the hollow of the Oklahoma prison. I have to overtake it in the next few days I can not continue publishing a daily discipline. Cheers, then.


Friday, February 5, 2010

Silence is green, suddenly, my heart
fertile
slowly accustomed to natural things, dressed in green leaves
desire.
Memories of the rain forest and emerge with his breath

hidden and again I feel my throat burning
a jasmine and blood.
Without stopping, my heart evokes
looks faithful to the pure love, kisses
embrace of the night,
touch that gave peace to the soul.
But where to walk your eyes,
her lips, her soft clean hands?

Saturday, February 6, 2010
Women
, break in my thoughts
like waves on the beaches;
suddenly enter my sand, sea
then come back again.
So are you, untamed surge, sway

relentless waters where my heart is drowning
telling your body wave to wave.
You know you'll be back,
however, do not know your name
not know I remember your kisses.
Maybe one day when your skin
destroy this house of absences
'll open the fabric of my verses.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

I have written to various friends,
any rosary will narrate the vicissitudes

I have spent (more than all imagine).
In my lines
them know that this cell, with nothing and no one,
for me is a
retreat where I book my chains.
Like others of my life, this gap, filling it slowly
light
to draw out its hollowness
the glow that makes my heart
supplier love
of this love that all I write.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Last night, when a sullen silence
as
cover of darkness covered me, and the uncertainty of raw
snowstorms intoxicated me, love

provoked a flash in the fibers of my heart pangs of perpetual
absences.
For a while I was awake.
Last night, facing the loneliness
resonant yesterdays I said
All
sleepless nights of my life this long road have been cleared
where
dangers of death could not spoil the light.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

In my solitude I call your name
and lyrics are a
rising sun through the clouds of dawn
where with flowers opening fire.
When I say walk in the corners
forging and rolled
thinking and in my soliloquy with your name or lights or shadows
distinction.
I say no one heard me
in an intimate voice that just hurts emotion
air and silence. At

answer questions of the sky, looking up into eternity
your name.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Sure, in the midst of the storm,
I imagine walking through the world as if walking

me shoulder to shoulder arms invincible. Pasaran

dark wings with so many frigid nights without being able to annihilate

aurora final day of injustice.
Brothers and sisters of the struggle

solidarity that is multiplied like the leaves in the spring:
You give us the victory,

you will be with us in the great day of return!

Thursday, February 11, 2010

From my childhood home and school, in my youth
from place to place,
all my life, and even in my dreams,
you've lived in my heart.
Island soles that all you offer
palms and beaches, birds and fruit scorching summer
that I love, that tree
free in the countryside,
willing to take care of daily essential
flower of hope in me Your breath
always peace.
Your love drives me, your love fills me
of light, oh fatherland, will come back and kiss yours
ahead.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Crossing the blue heart
unfathomable, confusing routes,
more, accompanied by hopes
insignificant but true, look at the quiet geography

immersed in a flash of snow,
territory of the indefinite,
illusions of freedom.
are tired, but I do not give up.
cuts, but did not bleed. Tanta
fatigue, calm
so much pain with the love of my dreams
made of a material that does not invincible
guards.