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Confesiones de Princesa
Translations available in: Spanish (original) | French | Italian | German | Portuguese | English | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

Confessions of Princess
Automatically translated into English thanks to WorldLingo
Confessions of Princess

of those first days in
which we realize which…
we are enamored


You arrived with the first sensation of cold of the autumn
as if God
as if the very same God had suggested
you came in this time to wrap my heart

garúa of the dawn is suddenly less cold
and
I have greater necessity to breathe
to keep air
are so many the sighs that escape now

no longer I see the world
I feel that now… I contemplate it

That is to say:
now sigh and master more than ever to God
master to the first cold sensation of of the autumn
master to this extra breathing
to the sighs

I keep silence

I feel to you now in my soul:
dusting rest of a happiness that sometimes I believed misled. ..

Now it is just when I understand so that
you arrived with the first sensation
from cold from the autumn




August 2, 2009 | 3:10 PM Comments  0 comments

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Mi Abril
Related to country: Peru

Translations available in: Spanish (original) | French | Italian | German | Portuguese | English | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

My Abril
Automatically translated into English thanks to WorldLingo
April

the complex Mornings
Of the gray days of a king
Of the dreams of a viejito that makes pies

Of the notebook misled of a one and thousand
apprentice of sketcher pages of the directory of the city light

Of the smile better kept from a Scottish military man
Of the love words of a dumb Ssordo

Of the compass of my marine grandfathers
Of all the parts of my life

From Always
From there a whole… in this specific case God
it drew to You and it armed for my always
sweet My My
only Abril to you





August 2, 2009 | 3:07 PM Comments  0 comments

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Carta Junio 2002
Translations available in: Spanish (original) | French | Italian | German | Portuguese | English | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

Letter June 2002
Automatically translated into English thanks to WorldLingo
HTTP/1.1 200 OK
Date: Tue, 09 Jun 2009 03:25:49 GMT
Server: Apache
Set-Cookie: JSESSIONID=2CD9F2C5820631A706427299C3960839.lv1-17; Path=/
X-WL-ERRORCODE: 1176
Content-Length: 4615
Connection: close
Content-Type: text/plain;charset=iso-8859-1

Lima, June of 2002


To the one who corresponds:

To try to write a letter for my always was something simple. But this time no. For that reason I decided to write it thus, with my words and to my way, because from another form it had been ornamented falsely.
There are moments in the life of all the people in whom we want to change the world and to make it a place perfect. Or at least inhabitable, or at least to make it a place calm where to smile he is something as natural as to breathe. Personally that moment arrived recently more than 4 years, when just it saw and it lived the freedom of youth. I went out with 18 years, a DNI, a notebook where to point poems, a lapicero, and money sufficient to be happy in Lima. Old songs of new trova, Jhon Denver, and Bob Dylan showed another thing to me.
I decided then to embark in the journalism race, although it had wanted to study Literature. Then I began to read, to look for answers the things that they questioned to me from always. For it I joined yet type of groups, from left Marxist (I do not know because not yet it finishes agonizing), happening through a socialism, until the right. All different ones, but with a slogan in common. There was something was making us damage from the 5 of April of 1992. To find out everything what the government did filled to me of fear. I thought that if could be known of as much torture and corruption with reading a newspaper, how much there would be behind. Because one assumes they hid the information. Fear, I felt much fear.
But friends who now no longer are here (are in Europe studying, left me, buuu.) invited to me to join to us to protest. And we protested, we went to marches, in groups or we were there. We decided to say to him no longer to which damaged the country. To that it damaged our country. Memory that in class I requested support, but I received, very little. The resignation of my companions was so much that hurt. What had to happen so that they reacted of a good time? Memory that almost I cry in class while it said? Perhaps wants that they torture like a those of cantuta or like a Leonor the Rose so that they react.
As terrorist they labeled several times to me. And until a GENTLEMAN of my university it said me that she read sweepings, when she saw me reading the Republic, and soon threw my Masks to the sweepings. Only the time gave the reason me.
Créame that those times was very hard, but simultaneously exciting. To know itself going against a still more as corrupt system and as that is something that made remove forces me from inside.
The marches, the tear pumps, the blows, the insults, the spent slippers, the flowers that we gave the police that struck to us, the knapsacks in the back, the united hands saying by those of the Cantuta, the matracas, the university loves been born in the fight… everything had a fruit.
Today sigh.
That helped me to grow. And in several of those marches I saw to a person to Victor Dolphin. An artist. If, an artist with many other artists, in one marches. If, because the pain also was of them, it were of all. The pain by a wounded country was general. Except for some blind that needed to see it colors and in channel N. All éramos one.
Now the bad one went away. But the horde of felones still this close and wants to damage to us once again. But no longer then. Ya no quiero que vuelvan. But much with wanting cannot be done. Since there were this Belaunde, it is necessary to act. It is already time to act. to talk about the dreams. to say to him to the young people like I, to the children in the schools, that still the opportunity has to fight by its dreams. By a pretty country and it frees. But much people prefer to fill them of sweepings so that they do not think, so that they walk blind and they are everything less human beings.
We must be victims of the impulse of our hearts and to fight by something. But even I prefer to follow from the quarries of the university, friends, cousins and the Internet, in where I write and comment which I think, which I feel and what desire for all.
I do not even feel as hard as to take the things. I prefer know a few. In addition, the institutions are so bad views, that saying I belong to such-and-such movement drives away them terribly.
Only queria to comment this, I do not know that to say more today. Perhaps tomorrow, it has the force of a great commitment. Today I prefer the small one of commitment of not more than 26 people friends who compose my world.
Good afternoon, always it is a taste to write a Piluchi

letter Lozano Rooms


June 6, 2009 | 7:50 PM Comments  0 comments

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Una oración por Mi profesión
Translations available in: Spanish (original) | French | Italian | German | Portuguese | English | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

An oration by My profession
Automatically translated into English thanks to WorldLingo

Of how with tears the callus of the eyes took off to me
Thought to write something cheers today, but suddenly the words changed and I could not do it thus. Today I remained until behind schedule in the newspaper writing and reviewing old papers I found the photographies of the journalists died in Iraq. It was going them to hurl like old papers. Before doing it I returned them to see and I felt pain by my and them.
I felt pain of the callus that has left to me in the eyes after two weeks of work in the Commerce. “What luck said all to me, you are in the international area. That is pepa of the newspaper ". But now, it is not that it complains to me, I do not know if I can be glad as much. I was on the verge of hurling the photos of these journalists, as well as I hurled photos of children crying. Soon I thought about histories that each photo locked up: of the journalists and the children. And I cried a ratito. Wine Carlos and before account occurred I went to the bath. And there I cried. I remembered the dead Spanish journalists just, and I felt bad. And I felt like idiot to cry, because there outside, all the writing followed as if nothing. And I, as a new medical instructor I put myself to cry. So that therefore I felt: an idiot medical instructor of the section World of the Commerce.
When I left, they said to me: postones is ready. And because I had to follow with that. But, while he published in the computer, the correspondent of the newspaper thought about Patrcia Castro Obando, that now this way of Iraq… if she is not that she already arrived. I thought about her, her family, her friends here in Lima.Y what happens if it suffers a same fate that the journalists in the Palestine hotel. That terrorist attack of the Gringos. Because it was a terrorist attack, because it tried to seed terror. It could not. They will not be able.
In Iraq the deaths, the anarchy, the hunger and the thirst continue. But, lamentably no longer periodístco is an interesting subject. The Kurds in the north and the Shia in the south, are going to border to that earth in I do not know what. That is no-man's land. And there Patricia Castro Obando goes, along with other journalists.
Tonight, I only request to God that brings it safe and sound to house. To her and all the journalists who are there. And carajo, it acceptance, if it wants that Washington wins, but that already finishes everything. Today I am egoistic and I think about the journalists. I think about them and I know that I do not have right to complain 11 dead ones against the thousands of civilians in Iraq. But today if I complain. Excuse to this medical instructor for the section World of the Commerce for being egoistic today.
Tonight, I will only say by them: to follow position and to defend this PUTA PROFESSION… in spite of everything.

(C) TO POUND LOZANO ROOMS



June 6, 2009 | 7:48 PM Comments  0 comments

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¿Una foto para el recuerdo?
Translations available in: Spanish (original) | French | Italian | German | Portuguese | English | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

A photo for the memory?
Automatically translated into English thanks to WorldLingo


The hands to the waist, a foot in front of the other and the free hair to the wind. It smiles: One, two, three and Click. To wait for five minutes.
Let us make a count.

They are the nine in the morning in the Stroll of the Heroes. Nobody knows it by that name, is enough with saying that it is the park that this forehead of the Sheraton hotel. The sun as soon as it finishes in center of dawn of Lima, but all already he is full. It is Sunday and day of exit it stops most of home employees who work in the city. The low majority in the Grau avenue comes from all sides and.

Before they went to the University park but, now, there are many rateros that way and it gives fear them. For that reason they prefer to go as opposed to to the parquecito the Sheraton. With high heels they smile and they walk happy by the path. Like any Peruvian in New York.

They cross running the laughter track died, with the high heels that they bought in? hollow? of the Abancay avenue the last week.

One of them gets wet the hair with the water of the sink that not yet is ignited: one fixes the rollers that it has and a pair of gotitas of water falls by the forehead. Fucsia is watched in the rectangular mirror and it feels beautiful. She is beautiful.
Their black hair and the pink cheeks by the heat of their earth make it beautiful. It is not looked like which leaves in the covers, she is far better: she is genuine. But, as nobody is prophet in its earth, it continues thinking about painting the beautiful black hair and to be blond.

A shout and she wake up. It keeps the rectangular mirror and it follows its friends who feel in the grass. He is peculiar to see how they walk and until they run with those tacos on the green thing.

Low Juan Carlos in the Tacna avenue and brings his equipment to the Stroll of the Heroes, is one? minutera? that no longer one of the few works and that are in Lima. It is placed the green vest and the credential that credits it like member of? Association of photographers of the Stroll of the Heroes. It places the film to its professional camera and one to polaroid instantaneous. It arms the chair and one feels to wait for clients. It knows that it is Sunday and there is greater movement.

The sun becomes to hide and loses the flojera to walk. The route by all the stroll of the Heroes with the two cameras in the neck stretches and will give.
A photo for the memory? , Thus it offers his services. It walks and It walks, can give up to five routes before his first photography, because once it takes him to photo to somebody, the rest is simple: all want a igualita photo.

Juan Carlos arrives to where they are the girls and he offers the photos to them. All of them are ed ***reflx mng and others are watched an a. Nobody is still animated. The professional follows his way and sees young pairs with babies, his future victims. They accept right away, want to keep a memory from their dominical stroll. Like a pair of Peruvian in the Power station Park. Click and five suns.

They remain thinking about the photos that they did not want and others lie down the fault an a. The plus? commanded? it is sent to call to the photographer and is she the one that is in charge to contract Juan Carlos. They want four photographies, one for each one and one of the group, all snapshots.
As opposed to the Sheraton, in front of the Palace of Justice, in the llamitas and the one of the group in the sink. All is fixed to appear in the photos. Each one of them removes the small mirror and the lips with strong colors are painted. They want to shine sensual like the models or those of tele.
Juan Carlos teaches the best poses to them and until the hair accommodates to them. All, very smiling is let accommodate, wanted to shine pretty and Juan Carlos knows like. The other people who happen that way, surround them to see how they are portrayed. They are happy and they feel important. Juan Carlos feels everything a professional and them strong speech so that they follow his instructions.
Click, click, click and click. Four photos, twenty suns.

Juan Carlos forgets the girls and he is arranged to follow with its work. Several passers-by call and the work this strong one. Today it removes to pay to first hour morning the light or the water: Families, enamored and youngsters; all struggle by a photo for the memory. The price oscillates you enter three and five suns, that depends. If she is instantaneous she is more expensive: the revealed process of instantaneous is American and much more difficult? , that is what says.

The one of the black hair and the pink cheeks of its earth it watches its photo once again and it cannot let watch it. It seems pretty and it wants a copy to him for all its family. Not yet it knows if to take another one, or to hope to dye the blonde hair. Fucsia is watched in its rectangular mirror and for a moment it travels in the time. Another shout brings it to Lima, to the stroll of the heroes. It is hour to go to have lunch to? Chévere chicken? , the one that is next to? hollow. They walk until there and perhaps, after having lunch, it is animated to free dye the hair in one of the academies of Abancay.

Juan Carlos continues taking photos in the Stroll from the Heroes: more clients have arrived. Faces go and faces come.
It gave itself to the oxygenated water. Thanks to God, even it is left the photo of first: beautiful, genuine, with the black hair and the pink cheeks by the heat of the mountain range.

To pound Lozano Rooms






June 6, 2009 | 7:15 PM Comments  0 comments

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Ese enemigo llamado desempleo
Translations available in: Spanish (original) | French | Italian | German | Portuguese | English | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

That called enemy unemployment
Automatically translated into English thanks to WorldLingo

Chamba is chamba
With the classified ones under the arm, clean clothes and I mark 8? I left to look for work….
My mother always said to me that many battles can be lost, but even so to win the war. It is only necessary to be perseverantes and not to let itself frighten in the first defeat. That phrase accompanies much to me in these days in which I decided to venture itself to look for work.
It was a Sunday in afternoon and after the lunch, like a all, it was caused to me to recostar to me in the sofa to read something or simply to sleep. But that Sunday no, after hints of most of my family I decided to take the section of classified of a Limean daily well-known and to begin to look for work.
Thus, resaltador in hand I seated comfortably in the table of the dining room and was reading one by one the warnings that surprised me by the complexity of their requirements. Few were those that asked for journalists or editors. Thing that made finish me making a list of routes for Monday with much facility: San Borja, San Isidro, Lynx, File. Ready.
Soon, and just in case, I began to see works of another type, the important thing is to find a fixed job. From salesmen, distributors, to of nana, all. I said of which it is. All, absolutely all, required experience, but not to exceed 23 years. And I want to know where a young person of 23 years acquires so fast experience.

What matters is the one of inside….
Another factor that surprised to me was to always see a well-known extreme phrase: good presence is required and until a A-1 prototype. And since when somebody decides what is to have good presence. And, in any case a person To 1 never will look for work in the classified ones. Just in case I believe that they already have work with their respective companies. I in center do not imagine to Miró Quesada or Graña looking for work of recepcionista of Lima.



Now the turn arrived from the masajistas. The amount of warnings is impressive and the pays that offer still more. I am not going to deny that I felt curiosity and that one or two morbosas ideas crossed by my mind. But the problem is that I do not know anything of massages and I either do not believe that those that give those? massages? know something. That disgust I thought about my head. And if it touches old a green one to me? … no, better I do not put in shirts of eleven twigs…

D-day
I left very early Monday, Tuesday half an hour later, Wednesday, Thursday… and finally Friday. That blessed Friday. Chamba was mine, they had called to me twice and then by telephone we had spoken of pay. Until I was myself in taxi from fear to arrive behind schedule. I opened the door, I left my DNI. There was a girl who as I looked for the position…. We smiled hypocritically. Then it was my enemy.
We happened to the office and there the two we were exposed to several questions of all type: to my I like the reading, to her also. I know to work I lower pressure, she also. I had finished the race, she also. I spoke English, she also. I, handled the surroundings of Windows, she also. I know to speak French, she also. I have experience of two years, she also. When the merits finished to us, another girl arrived: important last name, with dot of mimada girl. It had letter of recommendation of its uncle. She occupied the seat. Sarita Colony did not do the miracle to me.
I continue looking for work. If they know something, they warn to me.
© To pound Lozano Rooms


June 6, 2009 | 7:13 PM Comments  0 comments



Para Sole y Diego
Related to country: Germany

Translations available in: Spanish (original) | French | Italian | German | Portuguese | English | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

For Sole and Diego
Automatically translated into English thanks to WorldLingo
When I spoke later with Solitude
of the birth of Diego…

Block 30de Javier meadow the west
Went in the taxi
and the cellular one worked with 20 céntimos of balance
I dialed the Aló
number?
its voice appeared clear and clean
but mainly happy
with that voice that only the pretty
and good mothers have when being born the children

I smiled of this side of the city

she of the other

the baby is well
it finishes waking up and it is apostatizing

is the happiness turned voice
my Sole sister
my Sole friend
a star so that as they
I do not have to do them newspaper
to know that it will always be there

Of this side of the city the night is illuminated…
she must be the voice of
the first friend and sister Sole
mother takes leave

Diego is hungry

22 of Julio was born Diego
22 of Julio Sole became Fairy mother














June 6, 2009 | 7:11 PM Comments  0 comments

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