Gold Rate In Mustafa Singapore

POEM OF THE SERPENT,

Reclining on a rock in the place of the hermitage of San Isidro, those rare earth yawns seeking heaven in Los Barruecos , there in Malpartida de Cáceres, we decided to rest awhile, after visiting the wool laundry today Vostell made by the artist in an art museum (their own and the Fluxus movement.) After attending the game and the tragedy of the adventure of visiting Vostell and ephemeral pond where we roamed, we decided to stop and eat something nearby, along with the leaves and bark of the eucalyptus toppings.
I opened a book I bought in the morning in Caceres, the prettiness of editorial is published in Villanueva de la Serena, I mean Littera issues. There has been to see the light reading poems of Rafael Argullol, Poem of the snake. All the work
This writer is imbued with the poetic, more beyond the line of writing verses, back to the rhythm of syllables. It is a cognitive poetry, gives us a reflective view, proposes a digression that haunts the thinking, the way of thinking, Heidegger would say.
Argullol still clad "old coat" he told his teacher, José María Valverde, in a poem he opened his first poetry collection, knowledge disturbances. Mantle and has been distilling liquor in successive contributions: Duel in the valley of death , The knife sharpener. With amphibious Tetralogy: The ETERN joc, began poetic work designed to be declaimed by actors on stage, in this case to a montage of La Fura del Baus, Naumaquia 1 created for the Forum Barcelona 2004.
Following this first meeting, he returned to work with the group La Fura, a show based on The Magic Flute by Mozart. His 24 poems were recited and projected on the intervals devoted to the part of the libretto. Apart from the spectacular
, music, publishing Littera approaches us the magic of the word Argullol, giving us a music steeped in the apostrophe, in the invitation to investigate, the proposal of nudity in a search of ourselves, our understanding and our desires. A subtle and heartfelt journey of the word hot. I rescue here
poem number 23 that made me think of the feeling, leaning on a rock, ecstatic look at the horses gently grazing in a pond in Los Barruecos, while a light breeze rustled through the leaves of the eucalyptus trees

We loved the fire and we

purified with holy water.
We danced around the campfire

to ask and we slipped
the river for answers.
Between river and fire has passed

our history of fear and hope.
uncertain ground in this fragile
we dug graves and designed
gods
have built and destroyed cities
with redoubled fury,
always with hope and fear,
formula of our soul.
But sometimes we fled the country
jailed for
borders leaving behind the sacrificial fire
and water spellcasting.

In this journey we shed the fear
and also
hope that engenders fear itself.
feel Then we stop the miserable
halfword

desperately looking for the other half
through graves, wars and gods,
of great ideas and brutal accomplishments.
Then we
palpable what we seek in secret caress
friend
loving smile,
the voice that envelops the world, music
body, infinity

resting gently in the abode of a happy day.
There are all
questions and all answers.