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Ithaka (Constantine Cavafy)

When you On the way to Ithaca,
want it to be a long road,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
At Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the angry Poseidon
not fear, Such
never find your way, if you keep
high thinking and emotion
select your spirit and your body enticing.
At Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, wild Poseidon
not find,
if not carry them within your soul, your soul
if not placed before you.
like to make it a long way.
there be many summer mornings
that with what joy, what joy you will enter ports
never seen before,
you stop at Phoenician marts, and acquires
valuables
pearl and coral, amber and ebony, and perfumes
sensual of all kinds, many more perfumes
sexy can,
go to cities of Egypt, to many,
learn and learn from the learned.
Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
The arrival there is your destiny.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
Better if it lasts for years, and now old
stop at the island, rich with all
gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to give you wealth.
Ithaka gave you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have set out.
But it has more to give.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka will not deceive you.
so wise as I did, with so much experience, and understand what they mean
the Ithaca





Constantine Cavafy
Greek poet born in Alexandria. Egypt (1863), where he spent most of his life.
key figure in Greek literature of the twentieth century. Relentless self-criticism, often affected by his own heterodoxy, Cavafy published little during his life. He rejected the traditional values \u200b\u200bof Christianity, the heterosexual ethic, nationalism and patriotism. Cavafy created a personal style, something solemn and archaic, mixed with the Greek of his time. In his verses make up the Hellenistic and Byzantine history with contemporary issues, as in two of his best known poems, 'The god abandons Antony' and 'Ithaca', written in 1911.
Cavafy's work became known outside Greece through the references of EM Forster's study of Alexandria, Alexandria: History and Guide (1923).
Since 1930 his influence was important not only in young Greeks, but also foreign writers, and from this time the critical writings on his work are increasing.
A new push Cavafy's work took place with the publication of the Alexandria Quartet by Lawrence Durrell (1957-1960). He died in 1933

PD / Ithaca is a beautiful poem, and our road is long and full of adventure ... Freyja

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Paradise Lost love

Paradise Lost

(Rafael Alberti)

Through the centuries,
by nothing in the world,
me sleepless, looking for you.
Behind me, imperceptible, without
grazed my shoulder, my angel
dead watch.

"Where Paradise
shadow, you who have you been?"
question with silence. Cities

unanswered
speechless rivers, mountains
without echoes, silent seas.
Nobody knows. Fixed
men, standing at the edge of the graves
stop,
ignore me. Bird sad songs
petrified
course ecstatic,
blind. They know nothing.

Without sun, wind old
inert in
leagues go, rising
charred
falling back, some say. Diluted
, formless
the truth that hides itself,
avoid me heaven.
early as the end of the earth,
on the last edge, sliding
eyes
me dead in the hope that

green porch looking into the black chasms.

gap shadows Oh!
Hervidero the world!
What confusion of centuries!
Back, back!
What horror of darkness without voices!
I lost my soul!
"Angel dead, wake up.
Where are you with your lightning illuminates
return."

Silence. More silence.

Imóviles
pulses of endless night.
Paradise Lost!
fetch-missing, I
without light forever.

Through the centuries,
by anything in the world,
me sleepless, looking for you.

Behind me, imperceptible, without
grazed my shoulder, my angel
dead watch.

"Where Paradise
shadow, you who have you been?"
question with silence. Cities
unanswered
speechless rivers, mountains
without echoes, silent seas.

Nobody knows. Men
fixed, standing,
shore stop the graves,
ignore me. Bird sad songs
petrified
course ecstatic,
blind. They know nothing.

Without sun, wind old
inert in
leagues go, charred
rising, falling back
, some say. Diluted

, formless
the truth that hides itself,
avoid me heaven.

already at the end of the earth,
on the last edge, sliding
eyes
dead in me the hope that

green porch looking into the black chasms. Oh
gap shadows!
Hervidero the world! What
confusion of centuries!
Back, back!
What horror of darkness without voices!
I lost my soul!
"Angel dead, wake up.

Where are you with your lightning illuminates
return."
Silence. More silence. Imóviles

pulses of endless night.
Paradise Lost!

fetch-missing, I
without light forever.



A poem about pain through the soul, love when we do not find that Paradise Lost .... Freyja

Dear Friends:

Only thank you for being close, sometimes complicated health've been away, not forgetting

I visit them every one, my big hug and many thanks

Verena Sánchez Doering

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Aquariums

fishbowl LOVE

(Gioconda Belli)

Our bodies
fish glide alongside each other. Your skin
aquatic nothing
sleep next to me and shine your scales
in
moonlight seeping through the cracks. Translucent Beings floated

confined to water our breaths confused.
fins, legs and arms are grazed in the early hours on oxygen

and heat that rises from the white algae
to protect us from the cold.
At some point in the current lucid

fish we approach the open eyes
recognizing fish gills winding hectic.
bite the hook in your mouth and soon awake

lose
dorsal horn tips ..


Gioconda Belli has the magic to seduce
Verses verses full of magic and enchantment
magic of love and pleasure
Freyja ...


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DEAR FRIENDS FOR PROBLEMS COMPLICDADOS ENOUGH HEALTH AND PERSONAL PROBLEMS WILL BE ABSENT MORE OR LESS THAN ONE WEEK

I will answer them AROUND AND WE DARE YOU ALL THANKS FOR THE COMPANY

A BIG HUG AND APOLOGIES

VERENA

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Poetry Message to

(Vinicius de Moraes)

No I can not be

Tell that it is impossible
now can not be
is impossible I can not


Tell her I'm sad, but tonight I can not go to him.
Tell him that there are millions of bodies to bury
Many cities to rebuild, much poverty in the world;
Tell him that there are somewhere in the world a child crying
And women are going crazy and there are legions of them to torture
nostalgia of his men; Tell him there is a lack
in the eyes of outsiders, as starvation is extreme;
Tell him that shame, shame, suicide, haunt the home
and wants to regain life. Vinicius



accomplishes these beautiful lyrics, which leave the soul
talk poetry does count and reach the soul of everyone in life verses dresses Vinicius
The magic of love speaks in lyrics and singing melodies ... Freyja




PD / Thank you all for the love I have left in this time of absence and silence, thanks to everyone for being close.
A big hug and many thanks .... Freyja


I INVITE YOU TO MY: WEB
Freyja - http://www.freyja.cl/
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Message to Poetry Told Me Softly: Love My, Look In Your Eyes ...

Told Me Softly: Love of Mine, Look In Your Eyes ...

(Rabindranath Tagore)

I said softly: "My love, look me in the eyes.
" I scolded, sour, and said, "Go." But he did not.
It came to me and held my hands ... I said, "Let me."
But he did not.

put his cheek to my ear. I pulled away a bit, I was looking
, and he said, "Are not you ashamed?"
and did not move. His lips brushed my cheek. I shuddered,
and said, "How dare you, say?" But he did not shame.

I caught a flower in her hair. I said: "It is in vain!"
But not budge. I removed the garland from my neck, and left.
And I cry and cry and ask my heart:
"Why, why not again?"


Tagore ... is a marvel, his poems speak many times
love touches the soul and let it happen ...
And then we wonder why ...
be that the soul at times becomes blind? ...
Yes, sometimes we blind to life itself


PD / Thank you all for the love I have left in this time of absence and silence, thanks to everyone for being close.
apologies if I have not replied to everyone, but the fact that this disease has kept me away from the Net
Time has not been easy, but now giving me encouragement and strength I am here to thank
A big hug and a thousand thanks .... Freyja


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Freyja - http://www.freyja.cl/
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called my

called my
(Sophia de Mello Breyner)

for me when I called the sea sang for me when I called

sources ran for me when I called heroes died
And every sign of me gave me.


I called for me a thousand times ... I'm back in every moment lived
With humility on the skin and under it
pride the hope and reason and love always dressed
I called for me a thousand times ... and here I

PD / Thank you all for the love I have left in this time of absence and silence, thanks to everyone for being close.
The traces of time and I start to fade slowly beginning to rise, to continue feeding my soul of poetry.
A big hug and many thanks .... Freyja

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be in your dreams ...


be in your dreams
(Vicente Herrera Márquez)

books late in your dream space.
One day I want to be the ruler of your favorite color, the conqueror
in another domain in your room, also
asexual partner in the hour of sadness
or impetuous lover at the borders of your sheets.

Let me be the knight defending your innocence
and wild horse that gives you extend the offspring. Let me be the ghost
love across your window,
on summer nights and sings a song you whispering. If you want

I can be a sprite you
entangled in intrigue and centaur without losing your guide through the maze.
At times I can be a loyal army of Spartans,
to protect you from lies, libel and within seconds
confessor to turn into a slip.

Let me be the magician who meets your dreams
colors and the sorcerer who prepares your love potions.
In your dreams I want to be tired
oasis of rest and your fantasies eager want, on the feast of lust,
be the beginning of your desire and the final embrace your passion.

Let your dreams is just the companion routine
the lover that every night I give her caresses
and men love to kiss you every morning when I wake



Vicente Herrera Márquez, Chilean writer and poet. It was part of a group of migrants who departed to deliver his defiant effort to conquer the inhospitable vastness of Patagonia. Thus was born
its conquest by the letters and their clothing lines by the wind
From there, start writing and his poems, stories and everything you type begin to cross the borders
A man who has been marked by love dress many times of silence and full of dreams, with its essence of man and poet speaks to every muse that has been in his life took
Today a poem about him, which is dedicated to a muse that eventually accompanied him on his way

His website is: Pages Wind and here are part of what has been written over time: http://www.vicherrera.cl/