tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51720004895728587612024-01-03T12:15:21.631+01:00PLACERES VISUALESMeri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-26039948327703947262014-02-18T20:31:00.002+01:002014-02-18T20:31:38.803+01:00La lengua de las cosas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VSXLH3psdDo/UwO0ThJ-WQI/AAAAAAAAQC0/z80m6pwfQtc/s1600/DSCN4182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VSXLH3psdDo/UwO0ThJ-WQI/AAAAAAAAQC0/z80m6pwfQtc/s1600/DSCN4182.JPG" height="640" width="630" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">La lengua de las cosas debe ser el
polvo donde se </span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> </span></b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">comunican sin</span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> </span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>
</b></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Hablarse.</span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> </span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>
</b></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">El polvo o la sombra que proyectan.</span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> </span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>
</b></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Demencia de las cosas cuando su
voluntad se rebela</span></b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> </span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>
</b></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Y se esconden frenéticas o se niegan a
funcionar</span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> </span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">obstinadas.</span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> </span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>
</b></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Únicos medios de rebelión a su
alcance,</span></b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> </span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>
</b></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Únicas formas de decirnos que no somos
sus amos,</span></b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> </span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>
</b></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Aunque tengamos el poder</span></b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> </span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">De destruirlas y olvidarlas</span></b></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> José Emilio Pacheco</i></span></span></b></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>.. </i></span></span> </span></b></span></span>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-21291038132690405482013-11-04T18:33:00.000+01:002013-11-04T18:33:34.384+01:00Cruzas por el crepúsculo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XZcNqNxVc1w/UnfX2ASdwNI/AAAAAAAAPeg/rqYTiPFx1NA/s1600/DSCN1494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="443" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XZcNqNxVc1w/UnfX2ASdwNI/AAAAAAAAPeg/rqYTiPFx1NA/s640/DSCN1494.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #9bc9bb; font-family: Georgia; font-size: x-small;"><br /><span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Cruzas por el crepúsculo. <br />El aire <br />tienes que separarlo casi
con las manos
<br />de tan denso, de tan impenetrable. <br />Andas. No dejan huellas <br />
tus pies. Cientos de árboles
<br />contienen el aliento sobre tu <br />cabeza. Un pájaro no sabe <br />que
estás allí, y lanza su silbido
<br />largo al otro lado del paisaje. <br />El mundo cambia de color: es
como el eco
<br />del mundo. Eco distante <br />que tú estremeces, traspasando <br />las
últimas fronteras de la tarde.</b></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Ángel González</i></span></span></span></blockquote>
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<br />
.. Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-8232359545983824942012-04-08T12:09:00.004+02:002013-11-04T18:35:31.507+01:00PRIMAVERA<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d4JvPXYx_N8/T4FkbXxT5cI/AAAAAAAAOjU/hH_LXJkvP5U/s1600/DSCN1125.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728970622392067522" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d4JvPXYx_N8/T4FkbXxT5cI/AAAAAAAAOjU/hH_LXJkvP5U/s800/DSCN1125.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 588px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 800px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
PRIMAVERA</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;">
Eres tan cursi hija</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />que no hay por dónde cogerte.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />Hasta en febrero cuando estás desnuda eres cursi,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />adornada de odas y vergeles no digamos.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />Primavera,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />más que cantarte te han hecho la viñeta ciertos poetas sin agua;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />pero a pesar de todo te defiendo,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />porque haces retoñar ese geranio,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />que se me seca siempre en el invierno.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<span style="color: #993300;"><b></b></span><br />
<blockquote>
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #993300;"><b>Gloria Fuertes</b></span>, fragmento de «Sin tren de regreso: estaciones», del libro <i>Cómo atar los bigotes del tigre</i>, en <span style="color: #993300;"><b><i>Obras incompletas</i></b></span>, edición de la autora, Cátedra, Madrid, 1975</li>
</ul>
</blockquote>
Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-33424116545009673852012-03-11T10:20:00.003+01:002012-03-11T10:25:10.701+01:00La mano que resbala por la espalda tibia del caballo...<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DplRm-EXEQg/T1xucm0M5NI/AAAAAAAAOis/s2UVUf_OP-I/s1600/20120104-060958.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 800px; height: 640px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DplRm-EXEQg/T1xucm0M5NI/AAAAAAAAOis/s2UVUf_OP-I/s800/20120104-060958.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718567064588575954" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS, Tahoma, Arial;">" <i>El acto simple de la araña que teje una estrella <br /> en la penumbra, <br /> el paso elástico del gato hacia la mariposa, <br /> la mano que resbala por la espalda tibia del caballo, <br /> el olor sideral de la flor del café, <br /> el sabor azul de la vainilla, <br /> me detienen en el fondo del día. "<br /><br /><br /></i></span></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS, Tahoma, Arial;"></span></span><blockquote style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"><ul><li><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS, Tahoma, Arial;">Vicente Gerbasi </span></span></li><li style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS, Tahoma, Arial;"><b>En el fondo forestal del día, de Bosque doliente</b></span></span></li></ul></blockquote><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS, Tahoma, Arial;"><i><br /></i></span></span>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-82567617691354540222012-03-08T18:50:00.003+01:002012-03-08T19:25:16.578+01:00Yo creo que habría que inventar un juego en el que nadie ganara<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RJMqERtnnYc/T1jxf-IRtTI/AAAAAAAAOhw/ufQSwgRP9YU/s1600/Desktop14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 600px; height: 800px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RJMqERtnnYc/T1jxf-IRtTI/AAAAAAAAOhw/ufQSwgRP9YU/s800/Desktop14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717585258502796594" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.sabidurias.com/cita/es/992/jorge-luis-borges/yo-creo-que-habra-que-inventar-un-juego-en-el-que-nadie-ganara" class="result_cita"></a><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><blockquote><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Yo creo que habría que inventar un juego en el que nadie ganara.</span></blockquote><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" > (Jorge Luis Borges)</span><br /><br /><br /><blockquote></blockquote>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-61354718351371848872012-01-04T13:01:00.003+01:002012-01-04T13:08:15.724+01:00Y mientras cabalgaba...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C9mLx4HOZEQ/TwQ_sUHNzhI/AAAAAAAAOhc/PV_hli112VA/s1600/hi%25CC%2581pica3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 800px; height: 450px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C9mLx4HOZEQ/TwQ_sUHNzhI/AAAAAAAAOhc/PV_hli112VA/s800/hi%25CC%2581pica3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693745859448917522" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><p> <em>“Y mientras cabalgaba,</em></p><p><em>mi corazón resonaba en los pasos sobre el prado húmedo</em></p><p><em>resonaba en el resoplar y el tascar del freno de mi caballo tordo,</em></p><p><em>y una dicha inefable iluminó mi corazón,</em></p><p><em>y supe que si dejaba ahora este mundo,</em></p><p><em>caería en el paraíso”.</em></p><p><em><br /></em></p><p><em><br /></em></p><p><em> </em></p><p style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-size:85%;">Barón de Münchausen</span></blockquote><p></p>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-71148283524022821572011-10-20T21:59:00.002+02:002011-10-20T22:10:06.649+02:00Danza<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m7UzvHDPopQ/TqB9zGvX7VI/AAAAAAAAOdY/RDRH4Ot5eN8/s1600/bailarinas.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 450px; height: 800px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m7UzvHDPopQ/TqB9zGvX7VI/AAAAAAAAOdY/RDRH4Ot5eN8/s800/bailarinas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665666648168197458" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><blockquote style="font-weight: bold;">Cada día en el que no hayamos danzado al menos una vez,<br />es un día perdido. </blockquote><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-size:85%;" >(Nietzsche (1970). Así habló Zaratustra)</span></span>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-78858360304497639612010-11-12T13:04:00.001+01:002010-11-12T13:05:45.404+01:00Centelleo<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TNyjGG2c3nI/AAAAAAAANhw/F6F5ODfhDDw/s1600/DSCN1668.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 600px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TNyjGG2c3nI/AAAAAAAANhw/F6F5ODfhDDw/s800/DSCN1668.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538480967072407154" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /><br />Tantos colores<br />despiertan mi espíritu<br />centelleo contigo.</span><br /><br /><br />..Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-2511553513644809882010-11-01T16:31:00.006+01:002010-11-01T22:27:06.115+01:00Algunos dicen que las almas llegan a juntarse en algún lugar del bosque<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TM7djYBBltI/AAAAAAAANeY/ZxAUYQghH7k/s1600/placeres+visuales8-1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 450px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TM7djYBBltI/AAAAAAAANeY/ZxAUYQghH7k/s800/placeres+visuales8-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534604591896827602" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Desembocadura río Sor: Vicedo, Lugo.</span><br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS,Tahoma,Arial;">" Algunos dicen que las </span> almas llegan a juntarse en algún lugar del bosque, formando una gran corriente que discurre entre las copas de los árboles, como un río sin peso en el que los pájaros se sumergen como lo hacen los peces en los ríos reales; otros, que descienden al interior de la tierra, aprovechando los pozos y las grutas, y que se unen allá abajo en grandes lagos tranquilos, y que a través de las raíces de las plantas regresan al bosque en forma de brotes nuevos, flores y semillas.</span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-size:100%;" >"</span><br /><br /><br /><ul><li><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS,Tahoma,Arial;">Gustavo Martín Garzo </span></span></li><li><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS,Tahoma,Arial;"> Tres cuentos de hadas (fragmento)</span></span></li></ul>...<br /><br />Ésta es la misma fotografía pero al pulsar sobre ella se puede ver en toda su extensión.<br /><a href="http://yunagujeritoparaverlo.blogspot.com/">¡Gracias Jota Ele!</a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TM8uUQOfuAI/AAAAAAAANeg/cGz5covb_3Y/s1600/DSC_0469.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 532px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TM8uUQOfuAI/AAAAAAAANeg/cGz5covb_3Y/s800/DSC_0469.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534693392549656578" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />..Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-48021430629226621742010-10-23T15:39:00.002+02:002010-10-23T15:45:43.472+02:00Espantapájaros<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TMLlkAzjlYI/AAAAAAAANc4/OBo2EYHTBLk/s1600/espantap%C3%A1jaros+bn.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 554px; height: 800px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TMLlkAzjlYI/AAAAAAAANc4/OBo2EYHTBLk/s800/espantap%C3%A1jaros+bn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531235699218683266" border="0" /></a><br />Caminando por el bosque me encontré de repente con este personaje y no me quedó más remedio que hacerle una foto. Curioso espantapájaros.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">...</span>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-67260409800155559662010-10-09T15:42:00.006+02:002010-10-09T16:23:29.024+02:00LLUVIA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TLBxj7bWOII/AAAAAAAANYs/OrP2LtzDYXg/s1600/llueve.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 480px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TLBxj7bWOII/AAAAAAAANYs/OrP2LtzDYXg/s800/llueve.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526041604845353090" border="0" /></a>Número 1<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TLB6IyxP69I/AAAAAAAANY0/Pa6fZY9rwY8/s1600/llueve.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 480px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TLB6IyxP69I/AAAAAAAANY0/Pa6fZY9rwY8/s800/llueve.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526051034269477842" border="0" /></a>Número 2<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Maldije a la lluvia que, azotando mi techo, no me dejaba dormir.<br /><br />Maldije al viento que me robaba las flores de mis jardines.<br /><br />Pero tú llegaste y alabé a la lluvia. La alabé cuando te quitaste la túnica empapada.<br /><br />Pero tú llegaste y alabé al viento, lo alabé porque apagó la lámpara.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-size:85%;" >Huan Chien Chu<br /><br /><br />...<br /><br /><br /></span>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-51284184698465234042010-10-05T13:03:00.001+02:002010-10-05T13:27:23.366+02:00Un poco de cielo azul<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TKsGPRaI__I/AAAAAAAANYI/qVtobm3tmEg/s1600/DSC_0779.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 642px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TKsGPRaI__I/AAAAAAAANYI/qVtobm3tmEg/s800/DSC_0779.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524516227340894194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />¿Qué hace falta para ser feliz? Un poco de cielo azul encima de nuestras cabezas, un vientecillo tibio, la paz del espíritu.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.proyectosalonhogar.com/Literatura/Andre_Maurois.htm"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-size:78%;" >André Maurois</span></a><br /><br /><br />...Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-75297812043656658452010-10-03T18:14:00.002+02:002010-10-03T18:34:24.024+02:00Los cielos arrasados del verano tardío...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TKisITJfxTI/AAAAAAAANXg/lets_XzIwrY/s1600/DSCN0802.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 600px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TKisITJfxTI/AAAAAAAANXg/lets_XzIwrY/s800/DSCN0802.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523854201548948786" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Pasar, como las nubes,<br /> los cielos arrasados del verano tardío,<br /> atravesar la claridad, herido,<br /> en los ojos dolor, un cardo entre las manos.<br /><br /><ul><li><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >Andres Sanchez Robayna </span></li></ul>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-24480771875177718462010-06-13T22:08:00.003+02:002010-06-14T01:49:51.089+02:00Before the dance<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TBU69MovY-I/AAAAAAAAMn8/0KWFnWavO30/s1600/+antes+de+la+funci%C3%B3n+placeres11.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 500px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TBU69MovY-I/AAAAAAAAMn8/0KWFnWavO30/s800/+antes+de+la+funci%C3%B3n+placeres11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482352944431981538" border="0" /></a>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-26297490231264639602010-06-05T18:04:00.004+02:002010-06-05T18:12:33.312+02:00¡Niña que me levanta y resucita!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TAp1y46JvaI/AAAAAAAAMlo/1TpF6_U6ltg/s1600/nena+2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 450px; height: 800px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/TAp1y46JvaI/AAAAAAAAMlo/1TpF6_U6ltg/s800/nena+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479321413779832226" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >"¡Niña que me levanta y resucita! <br /><br />¡Ola sin fin, sin límites, eterna!"<br /><br /><br /></span><ul><li><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >Octavio Paz</span></li></ul>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-13762947455344950632010-05-23T12:51:00.004+02:002010-05-23T13:11:02.953+02:00No os toméis la vida demasiado en serio...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S_kJL7e-X2I/AAAAAAAAMgU/AHhCLdmSTgY/s1600/Collages10.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 450px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S_kJL7e-X2I/AAAAAAAAMgU/AHhCLdmSTgY/s800/Collages10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474416922596368226" border="0" /></a>Naturaleza viva<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S_kI4WKLooI/AAAAAAAAMgM/Jqln3vmF3Jo/s1600/2010-05-168.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 800px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S_kI4WKLooI/AAAAAAAAMgM/Jqln3vmF3Jo/s800/2010-05-168.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474416586159530626" border="0" /></a>Naturaleza muerta<br /><br /><br /><br /><ul><li style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;" >No os toméis la vida demasiado en serio; de todos modos no saldréis vivos de ésta.</span></li></ul><br /><ul><li><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" > (Bernard Le Bouvier de Fontenelle) (1657-1757) Escritor francés.</span></li></ul><br /><br />-Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-82327111971469921912010-05-16T17:35:00.006+02:002010-11-02T02:37:17.075+01:00UN PASEO POR EL RASTRO<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S_AR02MlHRI/AAAAAAAAMZc/4G-jVpAYT2w/s1600/sombreros,+rastro.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 480px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S_AR02MlHRI/AAAAAAAAMZc/4G-jVpAYT2w/s800/sombreros,+rastro.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471893146854300946" border="0" /></a><br /><ul><li><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 153);font-size:85%;" ><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:180%;" >Hablando en madrileño: selección de palabras del argot castizo. Con la letra A.</span></span></li></ul><br /><br />Abur: adios<br />Acabóse: final no deseado<br />Achispado: bebido<br />Adoquín: cabezota<br />Aguaducho: puesto de refrescos en la vía pública<br />Ahuecar: Largarse<br />Alicáncano: persona indeseable<br />Amolao: fastidado<br />Andorga: barriga<br />Apretar: salir corriendo<br />Artículo: piropo<br />Aviarse: areglarse<br />Avizores: ojos<br />Azotea: cabeza.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">(Del Libro del casticismo madrileño. Angel del Río. Ed. La Librería)</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S_ARkG3c_LI/AAAAAAAAMZU/B7LB_7zgQNw/s1600/telas+rastro.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 800px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S_ARkG3c_LI/AAAAAAAAMZU/B7LB_7zgQNw/s800/telas+rastro.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471892859271314610" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S_ARNWT5NuI/AAAAAAAAMZM/iavfttSP7Ho/s1600/perrito+rastro.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 800px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S_ARNWT5NuI/AAAAAAAAMZM/iavfttSP7Ho/s800/perrito+rastro.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471892468280145634" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S_AQ9yuFmjI/AAAAAAAAMZE/JXf2td62dwE/s1600/mu%C3%B1ecas+rastro.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 566px; height: 800px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S_AQ9yuFmjI/AAAAAAAAMZE/JXf2td62dwE/s800/mu%C3%B1ecas+rastro.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471892201028295218" border="0" /></a>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-66947636981816017662010-05-08T20:05:00.000+02:002010-05-08T20:06:17.733+02:00Estas ramas...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S-Wi6_rO7dI/AAAAAAAAML8/k1ntEj4TEJw/s1600/cielo+y+ramas.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 800px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S-Wi6_rO7dI/AAAAAAAAML8/k1ntEj4TEJw/s800/cielo+y+ramas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468956456920214994" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Estas ramas<br />son tus manos<br />acariciando el cielo<br />después de cada tormenta.<br />Y esos dedos son llamas<br />encendiendo una noche<br /> en la penumbra blanca de tu ocaso.<br /><br /><br />-<br /><a href="http://www.zapatosrojos.com.ar/Biblioteca/Daniel%20Chirom.htm"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><b>Daniel Chirom</b></span></a>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-74529755155777574312010-05-01T20:40:00.004+02:002010-05-01T20:55:13.377+02:00Esta luna<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S9x1yaFz1SI/AAAAAAAAMJ0/s1nALRZHpAs/s1600/placeres3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 450px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S9x1yaFz1SI/AAAAAAAAMJ0/s1nALRZHpAs/s800/placeres3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466373556578538786" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" ><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" ><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Pero allá sobre las casas, en la linde del cielo,<br /><br /> los mismos árboles refrescaban la atmósfera:<br /><br /> los tilos olorosos de noviembre, los pinos y cipreses,<br /><br /> los eucaliptos balsámicos: de aquellas<br /><br /> maderas inmortales brotaba a veces esta luna<br /><br /> que mi hijo contempla con mis ojos de asombro.</span></i></span></span><br /><br /><br /><ul><li><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" ><span style=";font-family:";" >Guillermo Pilía </span></span></li></ul>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-62257401471607749252010-04-24T11:43:00.005+02:002010-04-24T11:57:22.400+02:00Te vi nacer madera<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S9K_RWJlGiI/AAAAAAAAMEk/2IYsmarfrgY/s1600/2010-04-0511.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 566px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S9K_RWJlGiI/AAAAAAAAMEk/2IYsmarfrgY/s800/2010-04-0511.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463639602678274594" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(151, 75, 0);font-family:Geneva,Arial,Sans-serif;" ><em><span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;">Te conozco, te amo,</span></em> </span><span style="font-family:Geneva,Arial,Sans-serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(151, 75, 0);font-family:Comic Sans MS;" ><em>te vi nacer madera.</em></span></span> <span style="font-family:Geneva,Arial,Sans-serif;"> </span><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:Geneva,Arial,Sans-serif;"><em><span style="color: rgb(151, 75, 0);font-family:Comic Sans MS;" > Por eso, si te toco, me respondes como un cuerpo querido me muestras tus ojos y tus fibras, tus nudos, tus lunares tus vetas ...</span></em></span></p><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Pablo Neruda<br /><br />--<br /></span>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-61197757644136068662010-04-18T18:27:00.002+02:002010-04-18T18:35:41.512+02:00Hoy me despierta...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S8szDBlWHRI/AAAAAAAAL4E/OtO8VZ9oZug/s1600/desde+la+ventana.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 800px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S8szDBlWHRI/AAAAAAAAL4E/OtO8VZ9oZug/s800/desde+la+ventana.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461515100174556434" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;font-size:130%;" >Hoy me despierta<br />con su delgado resplandor abstracto la esperanza<br />la oscuridad del naufragio<br />se escapa como un gato por la ventana<br />y alguien vuelve<br />sí<br />alguien vuelve desvelado y sin prisa<br />con un pequeño rectángulo de eternidad entre las manos.<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" ><br />Blanca Varela</span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /><br /></span>---Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-46541698281068441422010-04-08T11:34:00.003+02:002010-04-08T12:13:43.656+02:00MAÑANA DE PRIMAVERA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S72j5bE-KLI/AAAAAAAALyM/aq6wYYn5Ryo/s1600/capullos.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 566px; height: 800px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S72j5bE-KLI/AAAAAAAALyM/aq6wYYn5Ryo/s800/capullos.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457698530359388338" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">En La Sierra del Caurel <a href="http://www.serradocourel.es/">"Serra do Courel"</a>, en la provincia de Lugo, parece que las flores se resisten a salir todavía. Sigue lloviendo.</span><br /><br /><br /><span class="j81"><br />MAÑANA DE PRIMAVERA<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Durmiendo en primavera<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> no se advierte el alba<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Hasta que por doquier resuena<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> el reclamo de las aves.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pero anoche oí el estruendo<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> del viento y la lluvia<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Y me pregunté: ¿cuántos capullos<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> se habrán dañado?<br /><br /></span></span> <br /><br />Meng Hao-Jan</span><br /><br /><br />-Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-66375998858188342592010-04-05T23:24:00.004+02:002010-04-05T23:38:23.005+02:00Lluvia de primavera<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S7pVQHT53RI/AAAAAAAALvk/lIOb62x8tnU/s1600/2010-04-05.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 554px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S7pVQHT53RI/AAAAAAAALvk/lIOb62x8tnU/s800/2010-04-05.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456767633841577234" border="0" /></a><br /><p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);" class="fr"><span style="font-size:180%;">Lluvia de primavera; ¡pobre de aquel que nada escribe!.</span></p> <span class="aut"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">Yosa Buson</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S7pVdNhTktI/AAAAAAAALvs/yac2Jp2Urgs/s1600/2010-04-051.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 800px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S7pVdNhTktI/AAAAAAAALvs/yac2Jp2Urgs/s800/2010-04-051.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456767858846700242" border="0" /></a>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-50932791174003385072010-04-04T19:03:00.001+02:002010-04-04T19:05:50.071+02:00Versiones<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S7jGamA3CrI/AAAAAAAALvc/ZLN_JLnltG8/s1600/caurel+prueba.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 500px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S7jGamA3CrI/AAAAAAAALvc/ZLN_JLnltG8/s800/caurel+prueba.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456329108742408882" border="0" /></a>Otra versión sobre la fotografía anterior<br /><br /><br />-Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172000489572858761.post-53796359873478133492010-04-04T17:34:00.003+02:002010-04-04T17:42:27.060+02:00Verde embeleso de la vida humana...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S7ixum6OOnI/AAAAAAAALvU/NLw7BHXurDA/s1600/IMG_0089.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 800px; height: 600px;" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EcfQTb3MMxw/S7ixum6OOnI/AAAAAAAALvU/NLw7BHXurDA/s800/IMG_0089.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456306362836204146" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; "><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993300;">Verde embeleso de la vida humana,<br />loca Esperanza, frenesí dorado,<br />sueños de los despiertos intrincado,<br />como de sueños, de tesoros vana;</span></b></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993300;">alma del mundo, senectud lozana,<br />decrépito verdor imaginado;<br />el hoy de los dichosos esperado<br />y de los desdichados el mañana:</span></b></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993300;">sigan tu sombra en busca de tu día<br />los que con verdes vidrios por anteojos,<br />todo lo ven pintado a su deseo;</span></b></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993300;">que yo, más cuerda en la fortuna mía,<br />tengo entrambas manos ambos ojos<br />y solamente lo que toco veo.</span></b></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><br /></span></b></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;">Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz</span></span></i></b></p></span></div></div>Meri Pas Blanquer (Carmen Pascual)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16041914343256871297noreply@blogger.com4