Between Dr Coss, NL, Mexico, and. Mier. A small waterfall I know, two hours drive from Reynosa, then two hours more by dirt road, and a final hour by motor boat, up river.

A place surrounded by ahuehuetes, the majestic trees called the old men of the river. There is a small waterfall. Pristine clear waters, among the rocks, and a small cave underneath the waterfall where the water is translucent, and small fish can be scooped up with your bare hands.

I was there, once, with the woman who I have loved for the past forty years. I was happy then.

I want to remember that place one more time, before I die.

And discovering that she's now a taekwondo world champion.

http://mastaekwondo.com/2011/08/entrevista... /

'Pretender' to the rôle of boyfriend.

She didn't say yes, but she didn't say no.

It's weird, I know. This is Hispanic culture; a throwback to the XIXth century.

We're both past 50, yet and I'm as giddy as a schoolboy.

Aunt Raquel, the youngest, and one of the four redheads in the family.

Now my generation are the elders of the family.

Patxi Andion wrote this Ode, Verde, as an homage to Federico Garcia Lorca (1898 - 1936).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FVGolLGxSV4

Sleep walker's Romance - Federico Garcia Lorca

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/romance-son...

Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
With the shade around her waist
she dreams on her balcony,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
Green, how I want you green.
Under the gypsy moon,
all things are watching her
and she cannot see them.

Green, how I want you green.
Big hoarfrost stars
come with the fish of shadow
that opens the road of dawn.
The fig tree rubs its wind
with the sandpaper of its branches,
and the forest, cunning cat,
bristles its brittle fibers.
But who will come? And from where?
She is still on her balcony
green flesh, her hair green,
dreaming in the bitter sea.

--My friend, I want to trade
my horse for her house,
my saddle for her mirror,
my knife for her blanket.
My friend, I come bleeding
from the gates of Cabra.
--If it were possible, my boy,
I'd help you fix that trade.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--My friend, I want to die
decently in my bed.
Of iron, if that's possible,
with blankets of fine chambray.
Don't you see the wound I have
from my chest up to my throat?
--Your white shirt has grown
thirsy dark brown roses.
Your blood oozes and flees a
round the corners of your sash.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--Let me climb up, at least,
up to the high balconies;
Let me climb up! Let me,
up to the green balconies.
Railings of the moon
through which the water rumbles.

Now the two friends climb up,
up to the high balconies.
Leaving a trail of blood.
Leaving a trail of teardrops.
Tin bell vines
were trembling on the roofs.
A thousand crystal tambourines
struck at the dawn light.

Green, how I want you green,
green wind, green branches.
The two friends climbed up.
The stiff wind left
in their mouths, a strange taste
of bile, of mint, and of basil
My friend, where is she--tell me--
where is your bitter girl?
How many times she waited for you!
How many times would she wait for you,
cool face, black hair,
on this green balcony!
Over the mouth of the cistern
the gypsy girl was swinging,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
An icicle of moon
holds her up above the water.
The night became intimate
like a little plaza.
Drunken "Guardias Civiles"
were pounding on the door.
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea.
And the horse on the mountain.

With Penelope Cruz and Ben Kingsley. I saw it for the first time last night.



"Is the elegy for lost relationships, lost possibilities, beauty and time passing, or failure of nerve?"

What a beautifully sad story.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TEzNtG8J_dw

Go then.
Leave me alone.
I want my melancholy
to take flight.

I never asked who you were,
Or why you chose me.
I who until yesterday,
considered you a king.

To lose a love,
when dusk is falling,
when time draws nigh,
and silver strands
appear among the gold.

you risk madness
and your heart explodes
when you loose a love
and feel you want to die.

Let me scream,
and deny heaven exists
let me take down with stones
all my dreams still in flight.

and make them fall
one by one
to break destiny's wings
just to have you near.

But nevertheless,
nevertheless, I understand.
I admit I was wrong,
in accepting your choices.

I don't know,
and even still
don't understand
what I intended.

And what's left,
of all our time together?
A woman very much alone,
that still loves you.

To lose a love,
when dusk is falling,
when wrinkles appear,
that were not there before.
You try to rationalize,
to remain indifferent,
till you realize,
it's no use.

And I want to scream!
to suffocate heaven,
to slam my head
against a wall

To breathe deeply
from his pillow.
To blame it all
on destiny.

If I don't have you near.

To lose a love,
and curse the dusk,
that gathers the pieces
or an imagined life.

To think that tomorrow
is a new day,
and repeat,
that it was unexpected
I did not expect it.









http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxzUrWrSWIc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=odXqBrb6ctI

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bq53wKjzVPA

For my anglophonic friends, unfamiliar with Facundo Cabral's work, here is my humble translation of one of his works:


I told you, I'm telling you, and I will say
that love is forever
I tell you, for example
that I love you now when it is hot,
and yesterday when it rained,
on cloudy mornings
and on clear open nights.

I love you
I love you standing, laying, asleep,
and awake,
I love you at one, and at two, and at three,
and at always.

I love you,
I love you at home
and I love you on the road,
and I love you after, before, and this moment.

I love you,
I love you because you love me,
and all of you screams it at me,
I love you because in you I begin, and I end.

I love you because we found each other
and in each other we lost ourselves,
let us say that I love you, with every one that I am
including myself.


Although you know, my love,
that when I say I love you,
it is God that embellishes you through love
and I am the the steward of that beautiful task,
that is to say, when I say I love you,
It is He that says I love you.



Te dije te digo y te diré porque,
el amor es para siempre.
Te digo por ejemplo,
te quiero ahora, que hace calor,
y ayer que llovía,
en las mañanas nubladas
y en las noches abiertas,

Te quiero,
te quiero de pie, tendida, dormida
y despierta,
te quiero a la una, a las dos, a las tres,
y a las siempre.

Te quiero,
te quiero en la casa
y te quiero en el camino,
te quiero después, antes y ahora mismo.

Te quiero,
te quiero porque me quieres,
y toda tu me lo gritas,
te quiero porque en tí comienzo y termino.

Te quiero porque nos encontramos
y nos perdemos uno en el otro,
digamos que te quiero, con todos los que soy
incluyendome a mi mismo.

Aunque tu sabes mi amor,
que cuando yo digo te quiero,
es Dios que te enbellese a traves del amor
y yo soy el encargado de tan bella tarea,
es decir cada ves que yo te digo te quiero,
el te dice te quiero

Source: Washington Post

http://www.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_606...

Fans across Latin America are mourning the death of beloved Argentine folk singer Facundo Cabral, who was shot dead by unidentified gunmen while he was on his way to the airport in Guatemala City on Saturday. He was 74.

Cabral, whose wildly popular songs mixed spirituality with social justice, is best remembered as a voice of protest against military dictatorships in Latin America. The United Nations designated him a “worldwide messenger of peace” in 1996. His protest song “No soy de aqui ni soy de ella” famously declared: “I’m not from here nor there.” (Listen to it here.)

Cabral’s car was riddled by 20 bullets, according to Guatemalan government officials. The intended victim might have been Henry Fariña Fonseca, a concert promoter and nightclub owner from Nicaragua who was also in the car. Fonseca was seriously injured in the shooting.



Read more: http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/blogpo...

---

Don't know if this still technically qualifies as LBN.

It is LBN to me.

God damn them to hell, whoever killed Facundo Cabral.

We were on a month long vacation.

Thieves got into the house.

Had everything of value bundled up and ready to go.

Then they broke into my dad's liquor cabinet.

The started to party, put on some music, the party got loud, the neighbors noticed, they called the cops...


When we got home all our stuff was still there, in the bundles made by the thieves.

Well... everything but the liquor.

And ordinary Mexican peasant's garment.

Except for the sentimental value.

This particular sarape was given to me by my father, in 1975, when I finished the requirements for my first degree (chemistry). Technically, I could have graduated then, but I stayed on and finished the requirements for a second degree (mathematics), two years later.

My father did not live to see me graduate; he died of lung cancer within the year.

I keep this sarape by my side always, as a memento.

Happy father's day, Dad.

Screams, sounds of running, and then dead air over the cell phone.

My friend has a nine year old daughter involved in equestrian training.

Next thing I see is a text message; I'm driving to the hospital.

She has a nine year old daughter

Then nothing for the last four hours.

Calls are going to voice mail.

Still no word.

Source: The Guardian UK

A Mexican who saw the BBC's Top Gear programme on Sunday, in which her compatriots were described as "lazy, feckless, flatulent overweight", has instructed lawyers to bring a test case against the show under a new equality law.

Lawyers for Iris de la Torre, a 30-year-old jewellery design student in London, accused the BBC of using racism to boost ratings and said the case could cost the corporation up to £1m in damages. They demanded an investigation by the BBC and suspension of the show.

The BBC has already received an official complaint from the Mexican ambassador, who demanded an apology for the broadcast's "xenophobic" and "offensive" content.

The remark was made by the presenter Richard Hammond, while his co-presenters, Jeremy Clarkson and James May, described Mexican food as "refried sick."

Read more: http://www.guardian.co.uk/tv-and-radio/201...

---

Here is a link to the offending remarks:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STaq9XCp9Aw