4
STREET
Pablo Mora Street 4 ... where I launched the village with two old, three brothers and four pieces in between, where I met the tears of willows, where I love time, of that cave, this cave that taught me the face of life, that of Christ showed me the skin tan when the power goes war, Rafael, dangling from a tree forever, Ofelia and his jolly daubs lost cruse not know what the healing of Doña Jabiela maldeojo to both rich and poor beggar, which led me to the chapel, the my father tending his canaries, that of the early morning in search of prayer, Mary Bonita, Muela 'e Gallo, Pedro fudge, Mary turned and always green with his eternal oblivion, Elio and the first rhyme, of the old seminary of my father, with his grades always red, the Vanguard Pedrito, who went to heaven to collect their benefits, to hang habits to go through life making war. Street 4, for the journey by the sea and snow, the highest nightmare, the day he lost my niece, that of the English nun who looked both way to church or the altar, the first item and the first poem, the Acosta Salmerón Blue poem and the sonnet lover of Francisco Luis Bernardez, the God of desiring and desired by Juan Ramón Jiménez next to Goethe's Faust, Vallejo's Human Poems, the Land and Homes in Neruda's Canto General, that of Mayakovsky , Hernandez, Pound, Whitman, and Pavese, that of Dante, Huidobro, Benedetti, Cardinal, Cote Lamus and Gaitán Durán, Fidel, Che, Camilo, Ojeda, Ugarte Pelayo and Argimiro ... of Peter Paul, Dionysius, Olivera, Ilia, Mora Carrero, Manuel Beroes and Philip, the Reuben, Michelangeli, Castro Medina, Mendoza, Alviarez, Augustine or Detuski Brun, Rafael and Carlos Guérin, Myriam, Pereyra, Fields and Ulacio, the Opera Carmen near the brazier of the five pm, the first class at the Santa Teresita, the ounces of sweet and struts, of the Blessed Sacrament, who helped me keep the faith, the sisters Alix and Linda Ruiz with his Album of the Rotunda lines 1902 and 1800, the Sisters Ocariz of Rubio, the moon's three in the morning, the napalm when the lark to take the trip to Cannes and the Alps. Where one evening I went in search of love and I found the monument of France. The lane 4, with Russian missiles, Cuba, Radio Havana, guns and guerrillas, January 23 and the Moncada Barracks and May 68 in Turin in the cold. The black of Julian came from nowhere, that of the black boot where my mother came down and climbed up and down with your parent while I fool shoulder late at night with my friend and parliamentary parliament. Calle 4 No. 12-122. Calle 4 No. 11-61. Calle 4 No. 10-36 up, down and jump through life. Calle 4 No. 15-13. Calle 4 No. l5-l5, the underground struggle, the confinement of life. The peak lane 4 and No. 1-59 Las Acacias, waiting for what comes, crouched in the corner of a room where my life seems anchored to suddenly go any day if not a bastard comes from the CIA to take it ahead of time ... or a police toche screw us patience ... Calle 4 No. 10-36 before a pair of lions of stage ... The peak lane 4 and say ... Las Acacias, pod casting yet, to the beat of the terminal insomnia. De
Terminal Insomnia.
STREET
Pablo Mora Street 4 ... where I launched the village with two old, three brothers and four pieces in between, where I met the tears of willows, where I love time, of that cave, this cave that taught me the face of life, that of Christ showed me the skin tan when the power goes war, Rafael, dangling from a tree forever, Ofelia and his jolly daubs lost cruse not know what the healing of Doña Jabiela maldeojo to both rich and poor beggar, which led me to the chapel, the my father tending his canaries, that of the early morning in search of prayer, Mary Bonita, Muela 'e Gallo, Pedro fudge, Mary turned and always green with his eternal oblivion, Elio and the first rhyme, of the old seminary of my father, with his grades always red, the Vanguard Pedrito, who went to heaven to collect their benefits, to hang habits to go through life making war. Street 4, for the journey by the sea and snow, the highest nightmare, the day he lost my niece, that of the English nun who looked both way to church or the altar, the first item and the first poem, the Acosta Salmerón Blue poem and the sonnet lover of Francisco Luis Bernardez, the God of desiring and desired by Juan Ramón Jiménez next to Goethe's Faust, Vallejo's Human Poems, the Land and Homes in Neruda's Canto General, that of Mayakovsky , Hernandez, Pound, Whitman, and Pavese, that of Dante, Huidobro, Benedetti, Cardinal, Cote Lamus and Gaitán Durán, Fidel, Che, Camilo, Ojeda, Ugarte Pelayo and Argimiro ... of Peter Paul, Dionysius, Olivera, Ilia, Mora Carrero, Manuel Beroes and Philip, the Reuben, Michelangeli, Castro Medina, Mendoza, Alviarez, Augustine or Detuski Brun, Rafael and Carlos Guérin, Myriam, Pereyra, Fields and Ulacio, the Opera Carmen near the brazier of the five pm, the first class at the Santa Teresita, the ounces of sweet and struts, of the Blessed Sacrament, who helped me keep the faith, the sisters Alix and Linda Ruiz with his Album of the Rotunda lines 1902 and 1800, the Sisters Ocariz of Rubio, the moon's three in the morning, the napalm when the lark to take the trip to Cannes and the Alps. Where one evening I went in search of love and I found the monument of France. The lane 4, with Russian missiles, Cuba, Radio Havana, guns and guerrillas, January 23 and the Moncada Barracks and May 68 in Turin in the cold. The black of Julian came from nowhere, that of the black boot where my mother came down and climbed up and down with your parent while I fool shoulder late at night with my friend and parliamentary parliament. Calle 4 No. 12-122. Calle 4 No. 11-61. Calle 4 No. 10-36 up, down and jump through life. Calle 4 No. 15-13. Calle 4 No. l5-l5, the underground struggle, the confinement of life. The peak lane 4 and No. 1-59 Las Acacias, waiting for what comes, crouched in the corner of a room where my life seems anchored to suddenly go any day if not a bastard comes from the CIA to take it ahead of time ... or a police toche screw us patience ... Calle 4 No. 10-36 before a pair of lions of stage ... The peak lane 4 and say ... Las Acacias, pod casting yet, to the beat of the terminal insomnia. De
Terminal Insomnia.
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