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Zero Hour: The first program

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E stima L reflectors:

Welcome to the first presentation of the sheet. in Radio Blog. The process, and it had no idea, thinking (not saying cause, the term is ambitious) radio program is not easy. For me, no previous experience in these things, has been a real event (leap) of faith. The break came Radio 10, not me. I follow the edge of the void while waiting for the 7 of the night ... time that I jump. Good jump, Reuben.

Our guest today, both in the program as in this magazine, is Salvador Medina Barahona. Poet, critic, thinker and above all man. I read a lot of the work of Salvador and never ceases to amaze me the oil (realistic) and moving this treatment be given to ordinary people. That duality, dresses free verse of the highest quality to go out to ponder the great mystery of the human condition, to live on this earth.

His work offers comfort, reflecting hopes, questions, questions and unresponsive. Salvador does not have the answers, but like us, wonder and live. The beauty with which this voyage plasma evident in "Journey to the mainland dream."

Salva, as I call it when we talked about so many things, has a brain that are particularly critical. Clear and deep, innate talent literary shelled pigeon peas. In this issue I present an excerpt from "Life in the word, life in time" (Colección Cuadernos marginal. UTP, Panama, 2003), in which a brief and brilliant passes on the literary theme in a intelligent and crystalline prose. During the broadcast, the author read the poem "The Beggar's Tango" that focuses on the beloved writer Panama Rose Marie Tapia.

Salva does not like to comment on his work, awards or endorsements (has won many important), not about his private life. I understand. So I do not want to spoil the pleasure of reading his work with young eyes.

Without further ado, welcome to this new edition of sheet.

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Graciela Nunez Photography

Born November 9, a 973 Mariabé of Pedasi

Los Santos, Panama.

Editor of the online literary magazine El Duende Grammarian

http://www.geocities.com/elduendegramatico/

Click the link for more information on copyright

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Dream Trip to Spain

Selected Verses

3.

And evening falls

with its brightness d and can

millennium.

Where we live we have to

back.

A trail of smoke

tenderly moistened

draws its goodbye,

and the way is back ...

as did

the dead.

6.

Meanwhile

continue living,

because this route open

calls us relentlessly:

go and we cross each pathway necessary

without fear;

sail seas

before someone says so ;

but back then the roots

land where the umbilical cord

lost use

and hearts

got caught

forever.

Let us

with the drum on his shoulder,

evasion asleep

still awake dreams

and passion

reluctant to limit

of loving

between ancestral shaking

and paved streets

without latch,

to rebuild from here

our planet.

11.

The rider mounts his horse.

(This

live anywhere.)

By The River

of human stupidity

iron flows

annihilates and equivocal enthusiasm.

Some happy faces,

demonic

held in tents adjacent

where the beer flows

and fear undressing.

We have fallen at times

as the response that turns

on the ground,

gravelly mud and inhospitable

ruminating betrayal of

man the fans without forgiveness,

bursting hatred

bleeding to death.

drum and chimes bid

after a fugitive and sudden pain.

already running is not enough.

Flee to fall.

not all

light on the Peninsula dream:

liquor

us crazy and planting their flag brutal

in the tumult.

We have exceeded the route.

People begins its return.

The look of guilt

is lost

fireflies that light up the cornfield

and spikes.

few

mourn the mangled soul

retracing his steps

in the afternoon ...

For more than Panínsula Dream, click the following link:

http://www.geocities.com/palabraeslibertad/viajealapeninsula

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Stock

Silvia Fernández

From: Salvador Medina Barahona, Life in the word life in time.

marginal Collection Notebooks. UTP, Panama, 2003.

All rights reserved.

The word is freedom, reinvention of itself, of man on earth. Axis to the prophetic, as combative for tenderness. Path. Knife edge to the truth. Unlimited attack against lies and shapes. Diffuse view before, during and after. Certainty of Man in its uncertainty. Uncertainty of man to his certainty. Order from chaos and destruction ...

's blood, fluid village of unicorns, terrestrial sediment, about to fire abate. It's perception, reflection, and contents of an impure life, illogical, contradictory, ad nauseam, human. So is the top gun of the spirit. So is your last defense. His wing savior.

why it has to convey its profound ability to renew and flow, to rise and dream. He has to rescue the spirit that has been abandoning its mission of life, and leaving the man under the machines and fear. It should help him. Within all their languages. Out of all walls ... There was silence sometimes necessary, sometimes complicit.

A noise obscene flooding the streets and heart, spitting out the news, his morbid atrocious and its vortex, can be death. And there is a voice between naming and destroy the names to remake them, retell in its inexhaustible source of signs. A voice is the star fire, man's redemption: Word: Sting: Life Management: Launch of fire against the impossible and its shadow.

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Shadow Worlds (Signs Cultural Foundation, Panama, 1999); Travel Peninsula dream (Cultural Foundation Signs, Panama, 2000) We are the image and the earth, in the book Signs Awards 2000 (Cultural Foundation Signs, Panama, 2002) wartime letters (Panama, 2002), Life word life in time (microarray poetic) (Universidad Tecnologica de Panama, Panama 2003), build a bridge (compilation) (with Enrique Jaramillo Levi, Panama, 2004).

THE TANGO OF BEGGAR

Salvador Medina Barahona

Rose Marie

V o across streets and looks that they forget:

There is in each eye a cloudy sun in each hand

strange proximity of hunger.

I

crossing his eyes as he died,

loading a suspicion of something possible:

the face that fear to find a day in front of the mirror. ***

How hurt my feet the many tables filled,

smoke dialogues, gestures vacant. ..

Clinging like an echo at this time enemy

see me coming from my yesterday's bread.

I cross the last avenue,

subject to forces that are

me the last sign, the last question,

up reach the boundary where the question

and smells, and are averse impossible.

***

I smell the sound of a waste useful

between threatening claws,

a blow that hurts and can not scratch my dignity.

(The night terrors nests on my naked heart.)

Tired, near the final hour,

seek shelter site that

thirst for a day without bread and without fish.

***

If the network has not caught a word miracle,

the new day I will know if still alive,

why I ask, not why I am not in the world.

***

Dawn again, between rumble and wet newspapers.

Sunrise, and I think I am;

at least lie next to me the gray blanket word

drunk on blood picture of a dead

yesterday's news as a witness that the sun has risen ...

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literary Resources

With good point - Dictionary doubts Panhispánico

(All things head start you have an answer)

http://buscon.rae.es/dpdI/html/cabecera.htm

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The literary trunk - The world's great literary works and their authors

(All the things you did not want to read at school)

Program Tuesday January 16, 2007

FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA

Poet English playwright

http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Federico_Garc% C3% ADa_Lorca

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Wr? bathrooms to lahoja@gmail.com