Monday, May 2, 2011

Three Year Old Sore Head

DON LOPE DE SOSA. MONTHLY RECAP OF THE PROVINCE OF JAEN (1913-1930)

Alfredo hunted Laguna magazine founded in 1913, Don Lope de Sosa which had a total of 216 numbers until its demise in 1930. It is imperative to find a magazine cultural, historical, literary and art and its province Jaén. In this sense, Don Lope de Sosa provides no few articles and literary texts that deal with Baeza and letters, that is, with the Literary BAEZA, the disclosure of the network promotes from this blog.

For this reason I recommend the interested reader to your query, then it will find pages that have to do with Diego Acuna, Sponsorship Biedermann, Alonso de Bonilla, Diego Castro, Antonio Flores de Benavides, Juan Huarte de San Juan, José Jurado de la Parra Luis Pacheco de Narvaez, Francisco Rus Puerta, Fray Bartolome Juan Ximénez Fracisco Villalba and Paton, among other writers, historical and artistic matters, cultural and historical Baeza on that point I stop. A glance at the indexes prepared by Ramon Espantaleon he published in the Bulletin of the Institute of Giennenses to realize that wealth brings cited journal indexes that can be downloaded at the following links:


Moreover, the reader can access the magazine by clicking on the link:

DON LOPE SODA IN THE VIRTUAL LIBRARY OF ANDALUSIA


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Saturday, April 30, 2011

Who Is Hotter May Or Dawn?

"BAEZA, THE CITY OF SILENCE 'POEM PUBLISHED FIRST REPOSITORY OF RAFAEL LAINEZ

Chicharro Antonio Stock

CITY OF SILENCE
These old stones,
Baeza care,
are rich treasure
distant age;
venerate stones which
holy relic,
I am loving
my old Spain.
.........................

noble Baeza, Baeza
the noble
your stones are
hymns that sing glory,
are
beautiful pages of forgotten history ;
glorious trophies
the time left.


___________________________________ RAFAEL


LAINEZ ALCALÁ

Rafael Lainez Alcala in his mature years
"Born in Peal de Becerro on 22 April 1899, Rafael Lainez first studied in the national school of his people and continued his secondary education at Jesus College of Ubeda. In stage full Baeza's degree in General and Technical Institute Secondary School where he had personal contact with the poet Antonio Machado.
At thirteen, Rafael Lainez began publishing their stories as a correspondent in the newspaper Peal "Regeneration" and publish in the journal "Don Lope de Sosa" both directed by Alfredo hunted Laguna.
moved to Madrid to get a degree that was interrupted by war in Africa where they participate and from which sends chronicles of war. On his return ended a degree in Philosophy and in 1928 obtained his doctorate with a thesis entitled Contributions to the biography of Don Bernardo de Sandoval y Rojas, Bishop of Jaén and archbishop of Toledo and protector of Cervantes to be published as Larragoiti winner.
In the same year he began his teaching career, first as assistant professor of art history at Complutense University and later at the Escuela Superior de Bellas Artes de San Fernando until after the Civil War that would enter the School of Arts and Crafts in Madrid. In 1945 he obtained his first chair of art history at the University of La Laguna (Tenerife), but it was not until 1949 when he gets his final lecture at the University of Salamanca. From this date begins its period of greatest production literary and journalistic plus also promote the dissemination of artistic heritage with its intense Conference Presenter.
In 1969 he became the adopted son of Salamanca on the occasion of his retirement. Lainez always maintained close collaboration with Jaén, which earned him to be appointed honorary historian Úbeda and founding member of Institute of Giennenses. In Madrid, a collaborator of the Centre for Historical Studies, Council for Scientific Research and the Academy of Fine Arts of San Fernando.
In his abundant literary production highlights their work for newspapers: "Regeneration," "Homeland", "La Province", "Landscape", "Sphere", "Yearbook of the Advancement of Cazorla" "Don Lope de Sosa" or the magazine "English Archives of Art and Archaeology." As for his major works emphasizes his thesis, already mentioned, and Pedro Berruguete, painter of Castile biographical critical essay in 1934 awarded the National Prize for Literature.
Years evening of his death, the City of Peal de Becerro acquires its library and personal file for rescuing people and for the scientific community a legacy of great value. "
Source: http://www.dipujaen .com / do-deputation / areas, agencies, businesses / ieg / gestion-files / Laing-alcala.html

ON THE POEM
The poem above transcript, which Antonio Machado was cleared for publication first Regeneration, is taken from the book ORTEGA PEREZ MANUEL URBAN , Del Gaudalquivir the Tormes. Poetry anthology Alcalá Rafael Lainez, Jaén, Jaén Provincial Council, 1999, p. 31. Manuel Urbano writes of the following: "It is more than curious, instructive, how in the first Laínez poetic text of hexasyllabic ballads, sung to the historic city with obvious pictorialism, which axis is constant in his poetry, as I will be alone in singing the intimate to the stone in much of their work in the years of the republic and early postwar period. In another vein, do not know if this first text, rather some first-time, succeeded him other-which is nothing strange would-they saw the light in publications Giennenses and before the appearance, in 1920, his first book, The Pilgrimage Tíscar , printed in Madrid, and preceded by a foreword Marqués de Dosfuentes.
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Thursday, April 28, 2011

Need Chains Driving From Stockton To Reno

GUEST SIGNATURE: CZECH LETTUCE

José Hierro

REUNIONS

For Joseph Hierro

In memoriam


I could say
Dear friend in the poem.

, but not (although the years displayed
its distance). Say, dear Pepe,
, head of poem illuminated
ivory head, faithful portrait
a word that seeps into your mouth
Beauty and repeats when speaking.
Pepe, because, so she called you
when coke and anise with
and saliva, and gold fingers
; of snuff, he painted his picture.

, And watch you all, all, all
After introductions and tell us:
Hi How about? We talk about poetry?
y. .. We ate heartily
With a voice that escapes when
wrapping up the night playing his lips.

; It was your verse the meaning of the night
and later the memory of your life
; and life history of the poem ...

; I impacted (like someone starving flows
to the humanity of the word
who tucked his friend, oh sensitive
; musical flavorings supplier
where the eighth line and is seen,
yesterday and today and tomorrow)

never flunked any review
; I left gibberish or Latino,
not pierce the screens or bars
; where the flower presumed to kiss and fire.

Thou, read your poems and put
your mouth with a sense unnamed
and spill your ecstasy I said:
Oh Improvement of light.
Oh, you, poem.

, I was only witness to your essence
of your voice without effort and with your name
, a faithful disciple of your eloquence,
and I told you last I retain
in my mouth.
I was only the word "blessed
rajarme back to the olive ramón
; turning the earth when the lump rose.

; I've never been so young and so tender

; as for John Sebastian Bach
I received
and give me the light arpeggio
witness which God or his name.
I only lived another time
- idyllic moment
when the man sang from his lips
a psalm to ignorance or waiting,
and a fandango is heard and took
to forward to my body.

and sang, and sang and sang.
and heard, and heard, and sang my heart enjoyed.

So tuck me in that verse that opts
humanity in you,
since man is made and contemplated.

So heads lit beauty,
piece of fresh bread, a child's eyes
seventy-five children on their backs.
Saint Christopher, a poet and Legionnaire.

I carry in my eyes and my verses
and I assume the word when it is dawn,
when I watch the streets sculpting
bends, and behind them, shines your look,
and unique,
sly and perfect your poem.

                                                                         CZECH ANTONIO LETTUCE
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Sunday, April 24, 2011

Can Ovulation Cause Hot Flashes?

ANTONIO ANTONIO MACHADO:" POEM A DAY. MEDITATIONS RURAL " (Baeza, 1913) Miserere HILARIÓN


POEM A DAY.
RURAL MEDITATIONS


Behold now,
professor of modern languages \u200b\u200b(Tuesday
gay-knowing teacher, learner
nightingale),
in a cold, wet town,
ramshackle and dark,
between Andalusia and La Mancha.
Winter. Near the fire. Outside
rains a fine water, praying
turns into mist, is now
becomes slush.
imaginary farmer, I think
fields.
how well you Lord! Rain down your water
constant and petite
on barley and bean fields,
your water moves,
in vineyards and olive groves.
will bless me
the sowers of wheat
living picking the olives
;
the
fortune waiting to eat,
the Hogan,
as before,

all their money in wheel, wheel
treacherous year.
Rain, rain, mist your
to turn into sleet,
and fine water again!
Rain, Lord, rain, rain!
In my room, illuminated by this light winter

-gray afternoon
screened by rain and the glass-
dream and meditate.
Clarea
the clock cornered
and tic-tic, forgotten
by repeated strikes.
Tic-tock, tick-tick ... I heard you.
Tic-tock, tick-tick ... Always the same, monotonous
boring.
Tic-tock, tick-tick,
beat a heart of metal.
In these towns, do you hear the beating of time
? No.
These people will fight relentlessly
with the clock, with the monotony

measuring empty time.
But your time is mine?
Does your time clock, mine?
(Tic-tock, tick-tick ...) It was a day
(Tic-tic, tic-tic) happened,
and what I most wanted
death took him.

far a cry sounds of bells ...

Intensifies the patter of rain on the windows.
imaginary farmer,
back to my fields. Lord bless you

how the planters of bread!
Lord, is not your rain law,
in the fields plowing ox,
and palaces of the king?
Oh, good water, life ceases
your flight!
Oh, you, you'll drop by drop,
source to source and river to river, as this time

boredom at sea running remotely
about to be born, as expected


sun flower of spring, I
pious

that tomorrow will be an early spike,
meadow green, pink flesh,
and more: reason and madness and bitterness
want to

can not believe, believe, believe!
evening;
thread
bulb is red, then
shines, shines

little more than a match.
walk
God knows where my glasses ... among old papers and magazines
tomes,
who find them? ... Here they are.
New books. I open one
de Unamuno.
Oh, the beloved, beloved

of the Spain that is agitated, it is born or resurrected
!
You've always been, oh
Rector of Salamanca!, Loyal

this humble teacher of a rural school.
That you call your philosophy
diletantesca,
fickle and grotesque,
great Don Miguel, is mine.
of good spring water,
always alive,
fugitive;
poetry, something warm.
Construction "?
"No foundation
or the soul or the wind.
rowers,
seafaring
to sea without shore.
Henri Bergson:
immediate data of consciousness
. Is this another delusion
French?
This Bergson is a rascal;
eh, Unamuno teacher?
Bergson does not like that Immanuel

the linedance immortal

this devilish Jew free will has been found within your weep holes
.
Not bad;
each sage, your problem,
and every crazy theme.

thing that matters in life bad, and we

that we are free or slaves:
but if we
to sea
same thing has to give.
Oh these people! Reflections, readings and quotations

soon as they are: Solomon
yawns.
Everything is
solitude of loneliness.
vanity of vanities, said Ecclesiastes
?
My umbrella, my hat, my coat

... The rain subsides ... Come on, then.
It is night. It talks
the bottom of a pharmacy.
"I do not know,
Don José,

how are liberals so dogs, as immoral.
- Oh, do not panic Nah, you!
After the carnival, come
conservatives

good stewards of your home.
Everything comes and everything goes. Nothing
eternal:

or government that lasts, or bad
last forever.
-
After these times will come another time and another and another,
and so we
others hump.
That's life, Don Juan.
"True, that's life.
-The barley is grown.
"With these rains ... And they

beans that is a beauty.
"Certainly, for March, in bloom.
But the frost, ice ...
"And besides, olive groves are asking

heaven water in torrents.
-A seas.
The fatigue, sweats
passing the farmers!
In another time ...

also rained when God wanted.
"Until tomorrow, gentlemen.
Tic-tock, tick-tick ...
Gone one day like any day, says the monotony

clock.
On my desk data
of consciousness, immediate.
Not bad
this basic self,
quota-free, at times,
creative, original,
this self that lives and feels in mortal flesh

ay!
eager to jump the fences of his pen.

Baeza, 1913.
ANTONIO MACHADO


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