viernes, junio 22, 2007
sábado, mayo 12, 2007
miércoles, abril 18, 2007
lunes, abril 16, 2007
Exposición de María Noel en Madrid
GALERIA RECOLETOS QUINCE
EXPOSICION DE OBRAS RECIENTES
DE LA ARTISTA ARGENTINA
MARIA NOEL
ELOGIO DE LA FRAGILIDAD
EXPOSICION DE OBRAS RECIENTES
DE LA ARTISTA ARGENTINA
MARIA NOEL
ELOGIO DE LA FRAGILIDAD
INAUGURACION : MIERCOLES 18 DE ABRIL , 8 PM
LA EXPOSICION PERMANECERA ABIERTA HASTA EL 18 DE MAYO 2007 C/ RECOLETOS, 15 ( Y SERRANO ) , MADRID
LA EXPOSICION PERMANECERA ABIERTA HASTA EL 18 DE MAYO 2007 C/ RECOLETOS, 15 ( Y SERRANO ) , MADRID
Publicado por
JULIAN I. IRIGOIN
en
9:21 a. m.
2
comentarios
martes, marzo 20, 2007
domingo, marzo 04, 2007
domingo, febrero 25, 2007
W.H.Auden (poesía)
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
___
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepes bows round the white necks of the public doves,
let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
_____
He was my North , my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
_____
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Twelve Songs
1933-1938
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
___
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepes bows round the white necks of the public doves,
let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
_____
He was my North , my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
_____
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Twelve Songs
1933-1938
Publicado por
JULIAN I. IRIGOIN
en
7:54 p. m.
0
comentarios
martes, febrero 06, 2007
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