lunes, 1 de octubre de 2012


   She goes down the road of ancient stone
   with the gloom of their arcades,
   and her giant feet or pillars
   which extend with refractory shadows
   and give color to the sound of a violin
   that lightens his prayer without end.

    One  young  lady pint
    on the canvas an encounter,
    she save in the beating of her eyes
     he thirst for relieved creative source,
    and when outside the soul dumped
     provides in sweet cravings
     her finished work
     that transforms into a small bright star,
     that illuminates my soul at rest
     and that rub with the essence of the joyful
     in a vibrate of  spark of  fire
     of an icy feelings and  ardent.
                                               Continues road…,
                                                        And Says… a pilgrom

        "who could sing like birds
        would do well to fly like them";
        well I play while the flute
        to climb to the stars".

        When se was giving  the turn to the left corner            
         her view discover a wide square,
         and in the middle a small crowd.
         Metal sounds of busy life
         leave step to the voice of a young man,
         who is poetry of other poets.

          And so pass the day
          of one ordinary afternoon
          a woman, a man…,
          visiting the ancient stone
          of art and its delivery.

              xurxo fernandez gonzalez