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Source: http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default

<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295</id><updated>2024-10-14T10:53:26.637+02:00</updated><category term="A la sombra de otra voz"/><category term="Verso - voz"/><category term="La sombra vibra-la vida vibra"/><category term="desconexiones"/><category term="veo-imagino"/><category term="La sombra vibra - la muerte vibra"/><category term="Temblar en la música"/><category term="Le cérisier en français"/><category term="Duermevela"/><title type='text'>A la sombra de un cerezo helado</title><subtitle type='html'>Late, late, late,
pequeñísimo corazón de un pájaro
al borde de su rama
precipicio.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default?start-index=26&max-results=25'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>650</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-4649341961050303347</id><published>2017-01-21T05:25:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2020-08-23T12:50:07.298+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Epílogo</title><summary type="text">
No me queda nada,&nbsp;
nada que no sea mi cuerpo,
nada más por destruir.
Jóhann Jóhannsson, By the Roes and By the Hinds of the Field, Orphée (2016)&nbsp;
</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/4649341961050303347?isPopup=true' title='1 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/4649341961050303347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/4649341961050303347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/epilogo.html' title='Epílogo'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/xcrFbc5F2q8/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-138346867558946494</id><published>2017-01-18T12:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2020-08-23T12:51:50.891+02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A la sombra de otra voz"/><title type='text'>GERTRUD KOLMAR </title><summary type="text">
EL URAL
Cuando agarro la oscuridad, los peñascos hieren
mi mano.
Ahí está la cordillera que, con sus picos y hendiduras,
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; se yergue y encabrita como la creta de un dragón.
Ahí está el Ural.
Cadena de norte a sur, linea divisoria entre este y oeste,
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; muro entre dos tierras.
Tengo que apagar la lámpara para que aparezca, para que se
&nbsp; &nbsp; arrastre </summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/138346867558946494?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/138346867558946494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/138346867558946494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/gertrud-kolmar_18.html' title='GERTRUD KOLMAR '/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-7370611359316955116</id><published>2017-01-18T04:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2024-04-04T06:07:23.663+02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A la sombra de otra voz"/><title type='text'>SAFO</title><summary type="text">
* * *
Un igual a los dioses me parece
el hombre aquel que frente a ti se sienta
de cerca y cuando dulcemente hablas
te escucha, y cuando ríes
seductora. Esto - no hay duda- hace
mi corazón volcar dentro del pecho.
Miro hacia ti un instante y de mi voz
ni un hilo ya me acude,
la lengua queda inerte y un sutil
fuego bajo la piel fluye ligero
y con mis ojos nada alcanzo a ver
y </summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/7370611359316955116?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/7370611359316955116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/7370611359316955116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/safo.html' title='SAFO'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3vEVS8zUXqdUkO4N6hLSrQ0SefqHScrwWqvc6JbTnLTk-GQqKnWPqPxmfcu2G1qs8QnVEqanxpXmMEBy_-Ztmf6WSEeheMotYj1JTn5gQ_1MTu0XMApAN4Ik28Z21_6h856VXBNIBYQ/s72-c/sappho.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-7845512865733442798</id><published>2017-01-16T15:47:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2019-01-28T00:15:23.889+01:00</updated><title type='text'>El último final</title><summary type="text">
No sabía que hoy era el día más triste del año. Tal vez eso explique por qué el punto y final se ha anudado en mi pecho sin dejarme respirar, solo llorar, llorar y llorar que ya no pueden existir más letras ni más vidas más allá de este momento. Que éste es el definitivo y último final.
</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/7845512865733442798?isPopup=true' title='3 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/7845512865733442798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/7845512865733442798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/el-ultimo-final.html' title='El último final'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/M-r1b2H9FKs/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-7764430836876291138</id><published>2017-01-15T19:52:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2019-01-28T00:21:28.646+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Despedida en el frío</title><summary type="text">
Las cuencas de los ojos de la pequeña ciega arden de tanto llanto en combustión. Se abraza a este árbol helado, a las páginas que no sirven para nada. Tiene tanto frío, la inclemencia del cuerpo que se abandona. Se abraza al árbol, al cerezo helado, al cobijo frío. Se abraza desesperada a lo único que es capaz de alcanzar. Las cuencas de los ojos arden. Y se hace el milagro: el árbol empieza </summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/7764430836876291138?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/7764430836876291138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/7764430836876291138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/despedida-en-el-frio.html' title='Despedida en el frío'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-3096505348551725319</id><published>2017-01-15T14:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2017-01-15T19:36:41.818+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Duermevela"/><title type='text'>He soñado con la ciudad en la que fui deseo</title><summary type="text">
Creía que solo me querían por mis ojos. Por eso un día, para poner a prueba mi sospecha, me los arranqué y los arrojé al viento (cayeron rodando a la zanja, por el sonido de su música sé que no fueron muy lejos). Ciega, no he podido agudizar el tacto. Aunque sentí como ya sin ellos, aquellos &nbsp;reclamantes del deseo se fueron marchando. Alguno tardó un poco más de lo esperado, lo hizo a </summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/3096505348551725319?isPopup=true' title='2 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/3096505348551725319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/3096505348551725319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/he-sonado-con-la-ciudad-en-la-que-era.html' title='He soñado con la ciudad en la que fui deseo'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-5882119047260568158</id><published>2017-01-15T04:17:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2017-01-15T04:39:49.178+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="desconexiones"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Temblar en la música"/><title type='text'>El dolor también es un canto</title><summary type="text">
El dolor también es un canto. Un gloria en las alturas celestiales que se hacen añicos para llovernos encima sus ruinas.&nbsp;
A veces imagino a dios como una araña imperceptible tejiendo una gran niebla. Sólo los ojos condenados son obligados a ver a través de ella la oscuridad de la nieve, el lodo del agua más pura, la piel espantada con el solo roce de una hebra al atravesar el follaje </summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/5882119047260568158?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/5882119047260568158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/5882119047260568158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/el-dolor-tambien-es-un-canto.html' title='El dolor también es un canto'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/FN4X_bDH3F4/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-5649351277970919769</id><published>2017-01-13T02:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2017-01-13T02:30:56.363+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A la sombra de otra voz"/><title type='text'>ROSE AUSLÄNDER</title><summary type="text">
MÁS
Del capullo de fuego enrollado
sol una luz sin escorias
Antiguo secreto
graba en tu piel
obstinada escritura
La aguja
se entierra en tu tejido
Grietas tiene el sol de pronto
tú no sabes
cuándo ensarta la llama
obsceno un vientre en la mandorla
Sombra tu paso
asombrado llevas tú la carga
de alas incrustadas
De la costilla del cielo pelado
Sol eterna Eva
con manzanas rojas juego de </summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/5649351277970919769?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/5649351277970919769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/5649351277970919769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/rose-auslander.html' title='ROSE AUSLÄNDER'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-5604969866185870291</id><published>2017-01-12T01:38:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2017-01-12T03:07:04.358+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Temblar en la música"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Verso - voz"/><title type='text'>“Pallaksch, Pallaksch”</title><summary type="text">
He aceptado la derrota.
El destierro de Marina,
el silencio de Celan,
las piedras de Virginia,
el bosque de Chantal,
el encierro de Emily,
el dolor de Holan,
la noche de Alejandra.
He aceptado la derrota,
esquirlas, balbuceos
de voz quebrada leyendo
en cada letra mi fracaso,
la total imposibilidad
junto al áspero tronco
de este árbol
que no da sombra ni luz,
que ya no puede crecer más.
</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/5604969866185870291?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/5604969866185870291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/5604969866185870291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/pallaksch-pallaksch.html' title='“Pallaksch, Pallaksch”'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/ngUnLL4CAck/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-6483818818126379027</id><published>2017-01-11T17:21:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2017-01-12T03:10:06.489+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Verso - voz"/><title type='text'>Borrador del frío</title><summary type="text">
Ha deambulado por los espacios&nbsp;
del frío
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;desnuda
reclamando la piel del otro.&nbsp;
Ha lamido la herida abierta
para saber si podía sangrar.
Errática y raquítica,
huesos deshilachados,
ha olvidado para qué servían
sus pies, sus manos,
y por qué una mañana de lluvia
le dieron un nombre
y su abrigo.
</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/6483818818126379027?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/6483818818126379027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/6483818818126379027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/borrador-del-frio.html' title='Borrador del frío'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-8572630352039156356</id><published>2017-01-07T19:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2017-01-08T18:30:01.073+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="desconexiones"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Verso - voz"/><title type='text'>Poética (sin descanso ni paz)</title><summary type="text">
Me he muerto de poesía
que no servía para nadie.
</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/8572630352039156356?isPopup=true' title='3 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/8572630352039156356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/8572630352039156356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/poetica-sin-descanso-ni-paz.html' title='Poética (sin descanso ni paz)'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-6984898026309454627</id><published>2017-01-07T03:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2017-01-11T18:45:29.172+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A la sombra de otra voz"/><title type='text'>CHANTAL MAILLARD</title><summary type="text">
Nadie puede seguir el curso de dos ríos&nbsp;
bajo las mismas nubes o las mismas estrellas.
Permanecí donde confluyen y quise retenerlos,
mas siguieron su curso
bajo otros cielos, otras nubes.
De Poemas a mi muerte (1989)
</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/6984898026309454627?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/6984898026309454627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/6984898026309454627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/chantal-maillard.html' title='CHANTAL MAILLARD'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-4320470404496288743</id><published>2017-01-06T03:14:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2024-10-08T21:12:06.002+02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Temblar en la música"/><title type='text'>¿Nos salvará la música?</title><summary type="text">
Alguien tiene una nada que decir. Pero se calla.&nbsp;
&nbsp;Esta noche prefiere dormir.
* * *&nbsp;
J.S. Bach - Variaciones Goldberg, BWV 988 (Zhu Xiao-Mei, piano)</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/4320470404496288743?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/4320470404496288743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/4320470404496288743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/nos-salvara-la-musica_6.html' title='¿Nos salvará la música?'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/IQK88vL6xVA/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-454923409254591161</id><published>2017-01-05T03:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2017-05-02T21:50:03.351+02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Verso - voz"/><title type='text'>Marinas</title><summary type="text">
IV
En la sal, en la verticalidad de la última luz.&nbsp;
Convertir las olas en&nbsp;pira sacrificial porque la culpa&nbsp;
es un veneno sin antídoto.&nbsp;
Dejar que los peces me besen la lengua rota.&nbsp;
Ponerme un collar de algas,&nbsp;soga marina.&nbsp;
Embellecer en el naufragio.
</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/454923409254591161?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/454923409254591161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/454923409254591161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/marinas.html' title='Marinas'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-8804826980507409603</id><published>2017-01-01T04:33:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2017-01-07T19:13:32.081+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A la sombra de otra voz"/><title type='text'>MARINA TSVETÁIEVA</title><summary type="text">
UNA CITA
A la cita contigo llegaré
aunque tarde. Recogeré
la primavera, llegaré con el pelo gris.
La has fijado muy arriba.
Iré infinitamente... Ofelia siempre recuerda
el gusto de la artemisa.
Atravesaré montes, y plazas,
atravesaré almas, y manos.
Vivir muy despacio la Tierra. Lluvias
de sangre. Cada gota, una cala.
Pero siempre la cara de Ofelia
en la amarga hierba, como un arroyo.
</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/8804826980507409603?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/8804826980507409603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/8804826980507409603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2017/01/marina-tsvetaieva.html' title='MARINA TSVETÁIEVA'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-6928008781932936003</id><published>2016-12-31T04:11:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2020-08-23T12:58:20.193+02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="La sombra vibra - la muerte vibra"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Temblar en la música"/><title type='text'>Las vencidas</title><summary type="text">
Todo día es un ensayo de tinieblas, de imponer un olvido tras otro olvido mientras se atraviesa, de puntillas, un campo minado.
Cada día es un recordatorio de imposibilidad para los vencidos.&nbsp;
Día a día, un rostro se dibuja con pigmentos de sangre mostrando el revelado de la escena de aquello que, sin embargo, nunca ha de olvidarse: la sombra diminuta de un cuerpo mutilado que perdió </summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/6928008781932936003?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/6928008781932936003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/6928008781932936003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2016/12/las-vencidas.html' title='Las vencidas'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/Mcfy3UmnyDY/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-4240535585965245046</id><published>2016-12-26T02:38:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2017-01-02T17:53:09.738+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="La sombra vibra - la muerte vibra"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Verso - voz"/><title type='text'>Marinas</title><summary type="text">
Costa de la luz
I
El horizonte partido.
Un pez plateado
cortado por la mitad.
Su sangre iluminada
llenándome los ojos,
cayendo gota a gota
en el cuenco metálico
de mi sacrificio.
II
La luz derramándose
en las aguas oscuras
del último invierno.
III
Cerrar los ojos y oler las olas:
ondulación vibrante de la música
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/4240535585965245046?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/4240535585965245046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/4240535585965245046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2016/12/marinas.html' title='Marinas'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-2962404685318567732</id><published>2016-12-24T14:03:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2020-08-23T12:59:25.322+02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Temblar en la música"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Verso - voz"/><title type='text'>Sanar</title><summary type="text">
Silenciar tu música.
Silenciarte.
Borrar así tu huella.
Limpiar la herida.
</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/2962404685318567732?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/2962404685318567732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/2962404685318567732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2016/12/curarme.html' title='Sanar'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-1963065894618397396</id><published>2016-12-17T03:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2017-01-07T23:34:19.753+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A la sombra de otra voz"/><title type='text'>GERTRUD KOLMAR</title><summary type="text">
SIN FRUTO
Las mujeres del oeste no llevan velo.
Las mujeres del este se lo quitan.
Quisiera esconder mi rostro bajo un velo oscuro;
pues ya no es agradable a la vista, ya no es hermoso, está grisáceo,
&nbsp; &nbsp;agrietado, como las piedras de un fuego exangüe, frío.
Mis cabellos, espolvoreados de ceniza.
Así quiero esperar sola en el crepúsculo en el banco estrecho,
&nbsp; &nbsp;de alto </summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/1963065894618397396?isPopup=true' title='2 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/1963065894618397396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/1963065894618397396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2016/12/gertrud-kolmar.html' title='GERTRUD KOLMAR'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-1552506104250718141</id><published>2016-12-16T06:40:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2016-12-20T20:24:08.451+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="La sombra vibra-la vida vibra"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Temblar en la música"/><title type='text'>Mientras duró el olvido</title><summary type="text">Viniste sin avisar. No te había reclamado. Habían pasado tantos años y, sin embargo, algunas noches de insomnio recordaba todavía el sabor del vino blanco, las tímidas palabras, los ojos extraños, las caricias oscuras. Me hiciste olvidar y fui animal agitado, violentado, rendido. Mi pequeña dentellada inofensiva, tu aullido enajenado, un rayo fulminante, el cielo hecho pedazos, pájaros heridos </summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/1552506104250718141?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/1552506104250718141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/1552506104250718141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2016/12/mientras-duro-el-olvido.html' title='Mientras duró el olvido'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/FJSxX95PH8o/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-3743082163494564432</id><published>2016-12-11T05:18:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2024-10-08T21:15:00.780+02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Temblar en la música"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Verso - voz"/><title type='text'>Czarne włosy*</title><summary type="text">
Debido a F.
Encender la noche, la única noche,
injertándome en bulbos de luz.
* * *&nbsp;
*&nbsp;Black hair&nbsp;en polaco.</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/3743082163494564432?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/3743082163494564432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/3743082163494564432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2016/12/la-unica-noche.html' title='Czarne włosy*'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/12tGOeW9soI/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-3650015636327511587</id><published>2016-12-03T10:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2016-12-04T01:30:49.536+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="La sombra vibra-la vida vibra"/><title type='text'>Levedad</title><summary type="text">
Parc de C. B.
Me piden que mire al cielo, a la copa de los árboles, que me deje eclipsar por la luz. Que vea el día. Obedezco. Madrugo. Casi sucede el milagro.&nbsp;
El pajarito rechoncho que se acerca audaz y escapa, el cromatismo dorado que ciega a mis ojos hechos de sombra, el crepitar de las ramas en la ausencia de ruidos. Casi el milagro...
Una hoja allí arriba se tambalea. Me </summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/3650015636327511587?isPopup=true' title='1 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/3650015636327511587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/3650015636327511587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2016/12/levedad.html' title='Levedad'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-7628799301765860736</id><published>2016-11-29T05:20:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2016-12-03T11:01:26.695+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="La sombra vibra - la muerte vibra"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Temblar en la música"/><title type='text'>Letraherida - "Che si può fare"</title><summary type="text">
Las letras me hirieron con crudeza. Leerlas, trazarlas, habitarlas. Dárselas a él, a los otros, recogerlas del suelo, curarlas-me de su invisibilidad. Hay ojos que solo deberían saber del cielo y de las aguas: hacia dónde emigran los pájaros, con qué viento llegará la tormenta, en qué momento el retroceso de las olas acabará en un embate violento.
&nbsp;Recuerdo nítidamente el primer </summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/7628799301765860736?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/7628799301765860736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/7628799301765860736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2016/11/letra-herida-che-si-puo-fare.html' title='Letraherida - "Che si può fare"'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/aDBPfhG-gVk/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-7416156511703986019</id><published>2016-11-27T04:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2017-01-07T23:35:08.069+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A la sombra de otra voz"/><title type='text'>GLORIA FUERTES</title><summary type="text">
LA VIDA ES UNA HORA
La vida es una hora,
apenas te da tiempo a amarlo todo,
a verlo todo.
La vida sabe a musgo,
sabe a poco la vida si no tienes
más manos en las manos que te dieron.&nbsp;
Al final escogemos un lugar peligroso,
un pretil, una vía,
la punta de un puñal donde pasar la noche.&nbsp;
De Todo asusta (1958).
</summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/7416156511703986019?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/7416156511703986019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/7416156511703986019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2016/11/gloria-fuertes.html' title='GLORIA FUERTES'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1300824314549915295.post-8717796575895317684</id><published>2016-11-24T07:06:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2016-11-27T05:09:38.106+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="desconexiones"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Temblar en la música"/><title type='text'>Cuando ni siquiera la música</title><summary type="text">
Ni la noche ni el día podrán distinguirse.&nbsp;
El pozo seco será una extensión de la boca que no necesita beber, de la voz que ya no necesita el auxilio.&nbsp;
Cuando ni siquiera quede la música el ser se doblará en su sueño de haber creído nacer para moverse en la ilusión de las esferas.
Nacer - desnacer. En medio nadie nada. Solamente la música. Hasta que acabe.&nbsp;
Antônio </summary><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1300824314549915295/8717796575895317684?isPopup=true' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/8717796575895317684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1300824314549915295/posts/default/8717796575895317684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cerezohelado.blogspot.com/2016/11/cuando-ni-siquiera-la-musica.html' title='Cuando ni siquiera la música'/><author><name>Cecilia Sainte-Naïve</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10644887332870511740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKC7pDCgdcibZTv0BXc_9i8UQnbjp-xPzzQozEg7FKzFwJh_rH3qvMtGbLGGDV3A-YHXGKXgjI7Ur00QYiUOW9RZGMgHj1APlR0DtctZJBk9H0JMWIxhfBTnxVCP/s113/10632706_10208779035534637_3504160027894344914_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/w6hCv5HNLRc/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>

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