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Literature Text
Trajo el viento una canción enredada en su pelo,
Que sonaba con voz de sirena, con susurros de mar.
Le escuche pasar y tire una flor por anzuelo.
Y con la canción en brazos al norte me heche a andar.
Pasé por montañas altivas; en rios bañé mis ropas.
Entre hierbas que hablan misterios sólo soñé con tu voz.
Con tristes fuegos fatuos compartí unas copas
Y para no perder tiempo, monté una tormenta feroz.
A la orilla del mundo construí un blanco navío
Con nubes, para darle alas, con velas de fino papel.
Zarpé hacia el norte, para evitar extravío,
A la canción que me puso en camino, siéndole siempre fiel.
Un dia volví a casa, como vuelven también las aves.
Abrí la ventana para que el viento pudiera entrar.
Dejé la canción ir flotando sobre corrientes suaves
Para que a otro viajero al mundo pudiera llamar.
Que sonaba con voz de sirena, con susurros de mar.
Le escuche pasar y tire una flor por anzuelo.
Y con la canción en brazos al norte me heche a andar.
Pasé por montañas altivas; en rios bañé mis ropas.
Entre hierbas que hablan misterios sólo soñé con tu voz.
Con tristes fuegos fatuos compartí unas copas
Y para no perder tiempo, monté una tormenta feroz.
A la orilla del mundo construí un blanco navío
Con nubes, para darle alas, con velas de fino papel.
Zarpé hacia el norte, para evitar extravío,
A la canción que me puso en camino, siéndole siempre fiel.
Un dia volví a casa, como vuelven también las aves.
Abrí la ventana para que el viento pudiera entrar.
Dejé la canción ir flotando sobre corrientes suaves
Para que a otro viajero al mundo pudiera llamar.
Literature
Things they don't tell you.
Things they don’t tell you about losing your grandfather on a Tuesday night:
When you wake the next morning, you still
need to get out of bed in time for work, you still
have to shower, dress yourself, eat breakfast, brush
your teeth and hair;
and when your mother calls
to check in, you have to comfort her because she lost
her dad last night;
and when you call your grandmother
your voice cannot waver lest you upset her, because
she lost a man she's known for seventy years and even
though she would never hold it against you, you still
feel obligated not to cry;
Literature
Last Call for Tanner Lee
Tanner left the hospital feeling strangely empty. He had expected agony. From the moment he had heard the Code Blue declared over the intercom and been forced out of Leah’s room (Room 318; he would never forget that number, or the feel of the sheets beneath his hands), he had known his life was coming to an end. They did not give up, and he gave them credit for that, but there is only so much time and effort a doctor can put into saving someone who is determined to die, and twelve hours later, Tanner and the bag of Leah’s effects sat in the back of a cab, on their way home. He would have to plan a funeral. Of course she had no lif
Literature
On Seeing without Sight
PATIENT 1 - a young boy of ten-twelve years; was discharged from hospital one week after operation. He is in his bedroom, surrounded by wooden objects and shapes on paper.
BOY: Depth? What is depth?
DOCTOR: Depth is the third dimension, other than length and width. (motions with hands)
BOY (bemused): Dimension?
DOCTOR (holds drawing of square and a wooden cube): This drawing has two dimensions: length and width. This wooden cube has three, including height.
BOY (struggles to reach wooden sphere): This is depth? (holds sphere with both hands, ogling)
DOCTOR: No, that is roundness. The sphere has depth, though.
BOY: I don't understand.
PATIENT
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Otro pequeño poema en español. Ojala les agrade.
Los comentarios son siempre bienvenidos
Los comentarios son siempre bienvenidos
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buen poema