Las exploraciones estéticas de Manuel Lasso

2012-02-17T23:12:00.004-06:00

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THE GENIUS OF CHARLIE CHAPLIN

The kid

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Manuel Lasso

NO NUCLEAR WEAPONS
NO ATOMIC REACTORS
NO RADIOIMMUNOASSAY WASTE
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2012-02-01T05:43:00.002-06:00

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TWEETS AS HIGGS PARTICLES

from

http://twitter.com/#!/Manuel_Lasso

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If I could travel to the farthest regions of the universe, among countless Higgs Bosons, faster than light could go, I would turn a telescope towards this earth ...

... and perhaps I will see insatiable lions attacking Christian martyrs at a Roman Colosseum. http://www.artunframed.com/images/new_art3/The_Christian_Martyrs_Last_Prayer.jpg

Maybe, in a struck of luck, I will find David showing Goliath's lifeless head: http://socialpsychol.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/david_showing_goliaths_head_caravaggio_1605.jpg?w=949

Or Leonidas striking the Persians at the Thermopiles straights: http://0.tqn.com/d/comicbooks/1/0/G/D/3PUBF-0004.jpg

Or perchance I will see this man screaming with indignation because he had been chosen to be the last victim of the nuclear holocaust:
http://lisettewillemsen.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/the-desperate-man.png

Manuel Lasso

prvasq131195@aol.com

2012-01-31T11:45:00.001-06:00

BYRON NUCLEAR REACTOR

WHEN WILL WE BE CONVINCED THAT NUCLEAR REACTORS ARE POTENTIANLLY DANGEROUS TO ALL HUMAN BEINGS?

Manuel Lasso

2012-01-28T07:50:00.000-06:00

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TWITTING

from
https://twitter.com/#!/Manuel_Lasso

Escribió en Yalta uno de sus cuentos más famosos: Dama con perro faldero.
He wrote in Yalta one of his most famous stories: Lady with a lapdog. http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs41/f/2009/049/2/b/A_Lady_and_her_Dog_wallpaper_by_olde_fashioned.png

En su último día de vida se encontraba con su esposa, Olga Knipper, en los baños termales de Badenweiler.
During the last day of his life he was with his wife, Olga Knipper, in the spa town of Badenweiler.
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-huMZ6Rf2U10/TrEzXu8-McI/AAAAAAAAAvY/5Ydn7ZgZu-0/s1600/thermalbath+%25281%2529.jpg

La tuberculosis lo había consumido por muchos años. En el momento final, tuvo un ataque de ansiedad.
He had been suffering from tuberculosis for many years. At the last moment, he had a bout of restlessness.

Su médico alemán lo tranquilizó. "Es is gut. Es ist gut," le dijo y lo inyectó con camfor.
His German doctor calmed him down. "Es ist gut. Es ist gut," he said and injected him with camfor. http://www.medicantica.com/EN/Syringe/Pravaz_Syringe_app/Pravaz_Syringe5.jpg
Luego ordenó traer tres copas de champagne.
Then he ordered three glasses of champagne.

Anton Chejkov terminó de beber su copa y comentó acerca del champagne. Se acostó de lado y quietamente dejó de respirar.
Anton Chejkov finished drinking his glass and commented about the champagne. He leaned on his side and quietly stopped breathing. http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e9/Chekhov_1898_by_Osip_Braz.jpg

Manuel Lasso

NO NUCLEAR WEAPONS

NO ATOMIC REACTORS

NO RADIOIMMUNOASSAY WASTE

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See this website:

http://thingsishouldprobablyknow.blogspot.com/

Highly recommended.

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2012-01-26T10:00:00.002-06:00

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LET'S AVERT THIS

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ALL WE ARE TRYING TO DO IS TO PREVENT AN ATTACK OF THIS NATURE AND THE FOLLOWING COUNTERATTACKS.

IF AN IRRATIONAL HUNTER-KILLER RELEASES THE FIRST MISSILE, MORE WILL FALL UPON HIS OWN NATION.

THE EFECTS WILL BE TRAUMATIC AND TERRIFYING.

LET'S WORK TOGETHER SO THIS TRAGEDY WILL NEVER OCCUR.

Critique to Human Estultitia:

ORESTES: It is. But no one wishes to disarm because nobody wants to lose the superiority they have achieved with these weapons without thinking that they are harboring their own destruction. The Homo Hapiens, despite his exceptional intelligence and his developed civilization, full of Euripideses, Einsteins and Newtons, that can inquire in the infinite dimensions of the universe and within the intimacies of the subatomic particles, is still a very primitive and immature animal as dim-witted as an earth worm... When total disarmament is the subject of discussion all world leaders pretend not to be the involved ones as if their nations could not be targeted for nuclear destruction. It is unbelievable how certain human brains could reason so fallaciously in such a dangerous moment. Epistemology sentences that their thoughts are untrue; however the fierce determination of a shortsighted head of state is the only condition needed to send the world into complete chaos and destruction. Besides, there are insane leaders, full of abhorrence for their enemies, who compulsively continue building reactors to produce plutonium, missile control centers and launching pads, without thinking that almost immediately after they strike, their own cities will be completely annihilated and erased from the surface of the earth by massive and extraordinary retaliations. Most importantly, we have to consider that these deranged commanders, out of exquisite hatred, are the ones shooting the missiles, but the noble and innocent civilians, women and children, are the ones suffering the horrible consequences of these nuclear explosions. Why should they allow this?

Taken from
Critique to Human Estultitia

Manuel Lasso

2012-01-21T05:40:00.000-06:00

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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'S TOMB

LA TUMBA DE SHAKESPEARE

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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'S TOMB IS SITUATED INSIDE THE HOLY TRINITY CHURCH, IN STRATFORD. IT LIES BELOW THE CHURCH'S FLOOR, INSIDE THE PRESBITERIUM, COVERED BY A STONE INSCRIBED WITH THIS CURSE:.

GOOD FREND FOR JESUS SAKE FORBEARE TO

DIGG THE DUST ENCLOASED HEARE.

BLEST BE YE MAN YT SPARES THES STONES AND

CURST BE HE YT MOVES MY BONES.

LA TUMBA DE WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SE ENCUENTRA EN LA IGLESIA DE LA SANTA TRINIDAD, EN STRATFORD. SE HALLA DEBAJO DEL PISO DE LA IGLESIA, DENTRO DEL PRESBITERIO, CUBIERTA POR UNA PIEDRA INSCRITA CON ESTA MALDICION:

BUEN AMIGO, EN NOMBRE DE JESUS, ABSTENEOS DE DESENTERRAR EL POLVO ENCERRADO AQUI. BIENAVENTURADO SEA EL QUE RESPETE ESTAS PIEDRAS Y MALDITO AQUEL QUE REMUEVA MIS HUESOS.

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See Critique to Human Estultitia

Manuel Lasso

NO NUCLEAR WEAPONS

NO ATOMIC REACTORS

NO RADIOIMMUNOASSAY WASTE

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2012-01-16T06:04:00.000-06:00

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Peace on earth...
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Will it annihilate your enemies or will it bring nuclear disaster over your own land?
The aftermath would be the most horrifying.

Pax vobiscum...
Peace be with you....

Manuel Lasso

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2012-01-15T06:52:00.001-06:00

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TARTUFFE

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2012-01-12T06:55:00.001-06:00

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FOUR TRUTHS

All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

Toda verdad pasa por tres etapas. Primero, es ridiculizada. Segundo, es opugnada violentamente. Tercero, es aceptada como obvia.

Arthur Schopenhauer

Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."

No digas, "He encontrado la verdad," sino, "He encontrado una verdad."

Kahlil Gibran

The opposite of a correct statement is a false statement. But the opposite of a profound truth may well be another profound truth.

Lo opuesto de una declaración cierta es una declaración falsa. Pero lo opuesto de una verdad profunda bien podría ser otra verdad profunda.

Niels Bohr

The truth is more important than the facts.

La verdad es más importante que los hechos.

Frank Lloyd Wright
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2012-01-07T06:19:00.000-06:00

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WILL MACHU PICCHU BE DESTROYED DURING NUCLEAR ANNIHILATION?

¿SERA DESTRUIDA MACHU PICCHU DURANTE LA ANIQUILACION NUCLEAR?

Machu Picchu will not be razed or wrecked. Due to its altitude perhaps it might not even be affected by the radioactive rain. But if the Homo Sapiens, with its infinite capacity to create new languages, disappears from this planet after a nuclear confrontation, Machu Picchu will be completely covered by the undergrowth and will be visited only by creepy crawlers, vermin and inferior reptiles. Only the crickets chirping will be heard.
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Machu Picchu no será destruída. Debido a su altitud tal vez no será alcanzada por la lluvia radioactiva. Pero si el Homo Sapiens, con su infinita capacidad para crear nuevas lenguas, desaparece de este planeta después de una confrontación nuclear, Machu Picchu será cubierta por la maleza y será visitada sólamente por los insectos, los gusanos y los reptiles inferiores. Sólo se escuchará el canto de los grillos.
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Manuel Lasso

NO NUCLEAR WEAPONS

NO ATOMIC REACTORS

NO RADIOIMMUNOASSAY WASTE.

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2011-12-29T19:11:00.002-06:00

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CARTA A SARA BEATRIZ GUARDIA

Mi querida Sara Beatriz:

Hoy, después del desayuno, mientras colocaba un plato de loza dentro de la lavadora recordé que los españoles que ocuparon la ciudad de Lima en el siglo XVII también habían usado escudillas similares, probablemente más finas y mejor decoradas, porque durante esa época acostumbraban a traer sus vajillas desde el lejano Oriente. Para tanto y para más daban las encomiendas.

Pensé que al tocar las fuentes, las tazas y los jarros, ellos habían sentido lo que nosotros percibimos, incluyendo las emociones y pasiones, porque la humanidad fue la misma. Un trago de agua traída por cañerías desde el manantial de Cacahuasi hasta la Caja de Agua de Santo Tomás era idéntico al trago de agua que yo bebí durante mi infancia. Igual tenía que suceder con el sabor de un buen sancochado o un cocido madrileño, con un beso de la mujer amada antes de entrar al ruedo, con la profunda apacibilidad que se siente al recibir el Santo Sacramento, con la ira que despierta una injuria y con la dureza de la empuñadura de la espada al empezar el duelo.

Pero no quedó ningún testimonio. Porque no se puede dejar una atestación si no se la escribe o se la registra de algún modo. También padecieron el miedo que aparece al estar próximos a la muerte en una cama del hospital de San Andrés, con la respiración estertorosa de la agonía y luego, durante el último instante, cuando se cae en la inconsciencia antes de ser envueltos en una mortaja blanca y ser cargados por la calle por dos ayudantes indios hasta el campo santo de la iglesia de Santa Ana.

En la época de Santa Rosa y de San Martín de Porres, el cementerio quedaba dentro de la iglesia donde ahora se encuentran las bancas con los reclinatorios. Se alquilaba una sepultura por el lapso de doce meses. Si había dinero los deudos renovaban el alquiler por más tiempo. Cuando ya no podían pagar más los enterradores removían los huesos y preparaban el terreno para recibir a un nuevo difunto. Tal como sucede en el Acto V, escena I de Hamlet, en que los enterradores sacan la calavera de Yorick y el príncipe danés reflexiona sobre la fragilidad de la vida.

Los más ricos se hacían enterrar alrededor del altar. Hubo un ricachón que tenía unas papadas enormes alrededor del cuello y una pierna vendada todo el tiempo porque sufría de gota, que se vestía como el microscopista Antonie van Leeuwenhoek y que quizo ser enterrado debajo del altar, para estar muy cerca de Dios. Para esto triplicó la suma de la renta anual y puso en la mesa suficiente cantidad de dinero como para que el alquiler durara un siglo. Pero el santo jesuita que hacía las misas se indignó con tal propuesta y ordenó al sacristán y a sus asistentes que lo arrojaran a la calle y lo dejaran tirado a vista y paciencia de todos, muy cerca de lo que es hoy en día la Plaza Italia o Plaza Raymondi, con su vestidura parda y su peluca rubia, larga y ondulada como las que usaban los aristócratas franceses del siglo XVII. Sólo después de las gestiones del Arzobispo de Lima y las recomendaciones del Virrey se ordenó al noble religioso que permitiese un enterramiento que estuviese lo más cerca posible del altar, distancia que fue medida con la cinta métrica de un sastre andaluz. La suma ofrecida pasó a los cofres reales. De esa manera el sacristán y sus ayudantes tuvieron que recoger al pesado occiso y rescatarlo de unos gallinazos, de cuello y cabezas negras, que habían abandonado la cúpula de la iglesia y que muy emocionados, abriendo las alas, saltaban a su alrededor con unas ganas de devorarlo de cuerpo entero y lo enterraron en el lugar indicado.

Durante esa época ingresar a la iglesia para escuchar la Santa Misa, era como entrar a un lugar de pesadillas de los tiempos de Mary Shelley o como meter el pie en el Infierno del Dante, porque habían ceras encendidas y flores secas de los pobres difuntos enterrados por todos lados. Y así, de pie, entre el olor de los sahumerios y los recuerdos de los difuntos había que escuchar la Santa Misa, tratando de no pisar sobre las sepulturas de los que ya habían partido al otro mundo. A los clérigos les gustaba este escenario porque les servía para hacer recordar a la cariacontecida y atemorizada feligresía que la visita a este mundo terrenal era precaria y temporal y que después del venerable sacerdote sólo se encontraba Dios y nadie más que Dios.

Con un gran abrazo
Manuel

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LETTER TO SARA BEATRIZ GUARDIA

Dear Sara Beatriz:

Today, after breakfast, while placing the stoneware dishes inside the washing machine I realized that the Spaniards who lived in the city of Lima in the XVII century used similar plates, but probably finer and better decorated, because during those times they used to bring them from the Far East. The encomiendas provided for it and for more than that.

I thought that when they touched those cups and jugs, they had to feel the same. They had to notice what we perceive, including the emotions and passions, because humanity was alike. The water brought from the Cacahuasi springs to the Water Deposit of Santo Tomas had to be identical to the water I drank during my childhood. The same had to happen with the taste of the sancochado or the cocido madrileño, with the kiss of the beloved woman, with the deep peacefulness felt while receiving the Holy Sacrament, with the wrath raised by an insult and with the hardness of the sword handle before the beginning of a duel.

But no testimony had been left about this. Because no attestation can be passed to posterity if it has not been written or registered in some way. They also were aware of the fear that rises when one is dying on a San Andres hospital bed , with the stertorous breathing of the agony and when one plunges into unconsciousness before being wrapped in a white shroud and carried away by two Indian assistants to the cemetery of the Santa Ana Church.

During the times of Saint Rose of Lima and Saint Martin de Porres, graveyards were located within the church grounds, where the pews are placed now. A sepulcher was rented for twelve months. If there was enough money the relatives could renew the rent for a longer period of time. When they could not pay anymore, the grave makers removed the bones and prepared the earth to receive a new deceased. As it happens in the Act V, Scene I of Hamlet, when the gravediggers disinter Yorick's skull and the Danish prince reflects over the fragility of life.

The rich had themselves buried around the altar. There was an affluent citizen, with a monstrous double-chin and a bandaged leg because he suffered from gout, majestically dressed like the microscopist Antonie van Leeuwenhoek, who wanted to be entombed underneath the altar. To accomplish this, he tripled the sum of the annual rent and put on the table sufficient amount of money for a century lease. But the holy Jesuit, who said the dominical Mass, felt slighted with such a proposal and furiously ordered the altar boy and his assistants to throw him onto the street and leave him there until he would rot, very near to Plaza Italia or Plaza Raymondi, with his brown coat and his blond, long and wavy wig, like the ones used by the French aristocrats of the XVII century. Through the efforts of the Archbishop of Lima and the considerations of the Viceroy, the noble clergyman allowed an interment that was the closest to the altar, with a distance quantified by the measuring tape of an Andalusian tailor. The offered money went into the royal coffers. In that way the altar boy and his assistants lifted the heavy body of the rich merchant and rescued it from the gallinazos which, with their featherless black heads and necks, had descended from the dome of the church and very enthusiastically, opening their wings, were jumping around with the sincere desire of devouring the whole body in one single bite.

During that epoch entering the church to attend the holy Mass, was like setting foot in a nightmarish place from the times of Mary Shelley or coming into the Hell of Dante, because there were lighted candles and dry flowers left for the interred people all over the place. Thus, standing up, among the scent of the sahumerios and the memories of the ones who had gone belly up, the parishioners had to listen to the religious services, trying not to step on the graves of the departed. The ecclesiastics liked this scenario because it helped them in reminding the churchgoers that the visit to this world was only temporary and that after the priest there was only one God and nothing else but one God.

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Wishing you the best,
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Manuel

2011-12-25T08:13:00.008-06:00

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"Lo único incambiable que conozco es que todo tiempo presente es cambiable.
No existe tiempo presente que mañana no será diferente."

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"The only unchangeable fact that I know is that all present time is changeable.

There is no present time that will not be different tomorrow. "
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Manuel Lasso
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2011-12-23T19:48:00.004-06:00

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Celebrando la Natividad con un poema de
José Repiso Moyano

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FELICES NAVIDADES
http://youtu.be/SC92Z2fHNy4
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AL NIÑO JESÚS

Para cantarte nanas,

su dulce voz

le pediré prestada

al ruiseñor.

¡Con qué ternura

haré mi voz tan suave

como sus plumas!

Remirando tus ojos,

niño ya duermes,

los míos no se cierran;

no te despiertes.

Si estás dormido,

para no despertarte...

ya no respiro.

Si adentro te acaricio,

niño que sueñas,

me suben por los dedos

temblor de sedas.

Son brío y ríen,

que me rozan diría

dos mariposas.

Coloreando “luz

tuya” está el cielo;

a perfecto dibujo

yo lo encomiendo

que sabrá a puro Dios

por poco o... mucho

que –aun– lo quiera yo.

Duerme, Jesús, ¡sí!, sólo

tan sueño duerme

(¡ay!, duérmete de todo).
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Oswaldo Roses

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2011-12-09T09:21:00.009-06:00

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HUMANITY'S DEATH CERTIFICATE

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"Humanity is dead..."

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Name of deceased: Humanity.
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Other names: Humankind. Homo sapiens not so sapiens.
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Age: 160,000 years old.
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Birthplace: Somewhere in Africa.
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Ever in the armed forces?: Always. From the Caldeo-Asyrian army times to present.
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Name of ancestors: Stone Thrower Homo erectus and Straw Picker Homo habilis. Wandering Homo ergaster.
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Place of death: Entire surface of planet Earth.
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Manner of death: Mutual nuclear attack after generalized binge drinking.
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Date of death: Recently.
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Name of cemetery where entombment will be carried out: None. Unneeded. Without cosmic significance.
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Immediate cause of death: Nuclear explosions. Multiple and reciprocal.
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Underlying cause of death: Human foolishness. As a consequence of extreme arrogance, immoderate patriotism, outrageous idealism, overkill religious fundamentalism, utmost megalomany, undue emotional immaturity and severe delusion of grandeur.
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Certifier: God Almighty.
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Name of informants: Four Horsemen of Apocalipse.
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Present condition of Human species: Extinct. Millions of radioactive contaminated skeletons abandoned on the surface of planet Earth. Failed evolution experiment. Study material for archaeologists from other places of the universe.
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LET'S STRUGGLE AND TOIL TOGETHER SO THAT THIS CERTIFICATE SHALL NEVER BE EXTENDED...

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Manuel Lasso
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2011-11-06T14:12:00.004-06:00

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ASTEROID 2005 YU55

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Asteroid 2005 YU55 http://www.asiahorras.com/imges/editor/assets/asteroide2.jpg

Another view. Otra vista. http://thetruthbehindthescenes.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/2005-yu55.jpg

It will pass near us. Pasará cerca de nosotros http://neo.jpl.nasa.gov/images/2005_YU55_approach_movie.gif

Wait and you will see it. Espere y lo verá. http://minorplanetcenter.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/2005_YU55_external_POV.gif

What association could there be with this image? ¿Qué asociación podría haber con esta imagen? http://kaptinkobe15.edublogs.org/files/2011/02/mayan-calendar-1s7bznw.jpg

What will you do? Hide under a bed? Or, tenaciously, embrace the stone calendar and scream of joy?

¿Qué hará? ¿Se esconderá debajo de una cama? O, ¿con mucha tenacidad se abrazará del calendario de piedra y exclamará con fruición?
Of course, watch it placidly across the sky. Por supuesto, con mucha placidez lo verá cruzando el espacio.
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by Manuel Lasso

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2011-11-04T08:37:00.006-05:00

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DISMANTLING THE MONSTER BOMBS
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Thank you for dismantling this monster bomb, the B53. Can you imagine its effect on the world atmosphere? http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/58/B53_bomb_rear.jpg

This SS-27 Topol-M should also be dismantled. Do you think that we need this monster on this planet? Raise your hand!
http://77rus.smugmug.com/Military/2010-Victory-Day-Parade/IMG63-copy/852521166_DeLyE-O.jpg

Can you imagine if this SS-27 Topol-M falls on your head? Do you think you could recognize yourself?

http://www.missilethreat.com/repository/imgLib/ss-27%20big%20mda.jpg

Correspondingly, the Dongfeng 41 should not be enabled. The entire world could not survive its long-term effects. http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FFVtz3crFyM/S8q7OCvXJmI/AAAAAAAABcY/xEigBA4VVwU/s1600/DF41.jpg

Think of the future; not of the present.

Don't think of the present, while you destroy your enemy with your nuclear weapons, satisfying your primitive abhorrence.

Think of the future when the entire humanity would be agonizing. http://ww1.prweb.com/prfiles/2009/10/17/2122074/B371hHiroshimaCasualtiesi.jpg

Do you want to know more about this human mindlessness? Read the Critique to Human Estultitia in this blog:
http://manuellasso.blogspot.com/2009/03/critique-to-human-estultitia-dialogues.html
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by Manuel Lasso

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2011-11-04T08:12:00.002-05:00

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KLAUS IN TWEETS
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Klaus was here. Alexanderplatz:

http://t.co/sGmL5ZhY

The "butcher" was here:
http://t.co/rZDFv85S

He tried his luck at a saw-pit; but nobody wanted to buy wood at that time.

His fortune changed when he started using the techniques in which he was best.

He worked here interrogating prisoners with the same techniques he had used in MontLuc: http://t.co/u6G4ItI1

Perhaps listening to the Walküres?:
http://t.co/01uokYKw

His favorite technique. The expression of a highly civilized society. Where were the Valkyrias at this moment? Riding?: http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LoPTdkHrjjk/So5Ijwbgu7I/AAAAAAAAEto/duEnYUwDwIY/s1600/gestapo-executes-russian-peasants-second-world-war-01.jpg

by Manuel Lasso

RADIOACTIVITY IN FUKUSHIMA

2011-10-28T07:28:00.002-05:00

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NUEVA YORK - El desastre nuclear de Fukushima emitió el doble de sustancia radioactiva en la atmósfera, estimaron las autoridades japonesas, alcanzanto el 40 por ciento del total de Chernobyl, dice un informe preliminar...
El estudio no considera los efectos en la salud de la radiación. El Cesium-137 es peligroso porque puede permanecer en el medio ambiente por décadas, emitiendo una radiacion que causa el cancer... (Leer más...)

NEW YORK — The Fukushima nuclear disaster released twice as much of a radioactive substance into the atmosphere as Japanese authorities estimated, reaching 40 percent of the total from Chernobyl, a preliminary report says.
The study did not consider health implications of the radiation. Cesium-137 is dangerous because it can last for decades in the environment, releasing cancer-causing radiation... (Read more...)
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ATOMIC REACTORS

2011-10-01T04:49:00.005-05:00

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FUKUSHIMA DAI-ICHI

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TOKYO -- Japan lifted some evacuation advisories around the tsunami-devastated Fukushima Dai-Ichi nuclear plant Friday to reassure tens of thousands of residents who fled the worst atomic crisis since Chernobyl that it is safe to return home.

A 12-mile (20-kilometer) no-go zone remains in place around the plant, which was badly damaged by the March 11 tsunami that left nearly 20,000 people dead or missing across Japan's northeast coast.

But officials said the advisories for five municipalities 12-19 miles (20-30 kilometers) away were lifted because the plant had been restored to a relatively stable condition and radiation levels were within safety standards.

(Read more...)

TOKIO- El Japón levantó las advertencias de evacuación alrededor de la planta nuclear de Fukushima Dai-ichi, devastada por el maremoto, para asegurar a decenas de miles de residentes, que huyeron de la peor crisis atómica desde Chernobyl, que el regreso no tiene peligros.

Una zona prohibida de 12 millas (20 kilómetros) permanece en efecto alrededor de la planta que fue dañada por el maremoto del 11 de marzo y que dejó cerca de 20,000 personas fallecidas o desaparecidas a través de la costa noreste del Japón.

Sin embargo oficiales dijeron que las advertencias para cinco municipalidades situadas a 12-19 millas (20-30 kilómetros) fueron levantadas porque la planta había sido restablecida a una condición relativamente estable y que los niveles de radiación estaban dentro de los standards de seguridad.

(Leeer más...)
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2011-09-11T06:46:00.006-05:00

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THE HIGGS PARTICLES IN THE STRUCTURE OF ULYSSES
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Taken from Twitter.com/#!/Manuel_Lasso

He wrote Dubliners in Trieste.

He also composed A portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (An artist's Bildungsroman in English literature.) and portions of Ulysses.

Joyce fell in love with Amy Schleimer. He could not stand the sadness of her eyes in a black and white photograph.

At the same time Roberto Prezioso tried to seduce Nora; but he couldn't.

These Higgs particles give mass to the structure of Ulysses. It gains momentum: an indication of mass.

After Yeats called Joyce's work to his attention, Pound tried to find a publisher for Joyce.

Ezra Pound collected money for him, defended him against censorship; even gave him some of his spare clothes.

By the end of World War I Joyce moved with his family to Zürich, where Tristan Tzara was working. He was interested in Dadaism.

At age 22 James Joyce can not see Nora well in the distance due to a blurry vision.

In 1908, first bout of severe ocular pain. When he looked at himself in the mirror his eyes were intensely red, almost like Telemachus' robe.

Light entered his eyes like a thunderbolt causing severe pain. Joyce walked holding his eyes, almost like King Oedipus.

The doctor said it was iritis. The next year he had his first attack of glaucoma. Severe eye pain and blurry vision while writing Ulysses.

In 1918 Ezra Pound helped him publishing fragments of Ulysses in The Little Review.

His severe eye pain did not allow him to do other thing than lying down near the stove.

In 1920 the serial publication of Ulysses is halted. Censorship accused the editors of publishing obscenities. Eye pain worsened.

In 1922 the iritis recurred. Finally Sylvia Beach published Ulysses.

In 1922 another furious eye attack. His doctor ordered leeches to his back and dionine (ethylmorphine) drops to his eyes.

James Joyce had to resign to seeing the black leeches crawling over his forehead. Thoughts of death.

In 1925 his vision was too poor to walk on the beach.

In 1926 started writing with big capital letters.

LAS PARTICULAS HIGGS EN LA ESTRUCTURA DEL ULISES

Escribió Dubliners en Trieste.

También escribió Retrato del Artista como un Hombre Joven (Bildungsroman de la literatura inglesa) y porciones del Ulises.

Joyce se enamoró de Amy Schleimer. No podía tolerar la tristeza de sus ojos en una fotografía en blanco y negro.

A la vez, Roberto Prezioso trató de seducir a Nora; pero no lo consiguió.

Estas partículas Higgs dan masa a la estructura del Ulises. Ganan momentum: indicación de masa.

Luego que Yeats le habló acerca de Joyce, Pound trató de hallarle un editor.

Ezra Pound hizo una colecta para él, lo defendió de los censores; le regaló sus ropas usadas.

Al finalizar la Primera Guerra Mundial Joyce se mudó, junto con su familia, a Zürich, donde Tristán Tzara estaba trabajando. Se interesó en el dadaismo.

A la edad de 22 James Joyce no puede ver bien a Nora en la distancia debido a una visión borrosa.

En 1908 tuvo su primer ataque de dolor de ojos. Al mirarse en el espejo estaban intensamente rojos, casi como la túnica de Telémaco.

La luz entraba a sus ojos como un rayo causándole gran dolor. Joyce caminaba agarrándose los ojos, casi como el Rey Edipo.

Su médico le dijo que era iritis. Luego su primer ataque de glaucoma. Severo dolor de ojos y visión borrosa mientras escribía el Ulises.

En 1918 Ezra Pound le ayudó a publicar fragmentos del Ulises en The Little Review.

Su severo dolor de ojos no le permitía hacer otra cosa que recostarse cerca de la estufa.

En 1920 la publicación del Ulises en The Little Review es detenida. La censura los acusó de publicar obcenidades. El dolor de ojos empeoró.

En 1922 la iritis regresó. Finalmente, Silvia Beach publicó el Ulises.

En 1922 otro ataque furioso a sus ojos. Su médico ordena sanguijuelas a la espalda y gotas de dionine (etilmorfina) a los ojos.

James Joyce tuvo que resignarse a ver a las sanguijuelas negras moviéndose sobre su frente. Pensamientos sobre la muerte.

En 1925 su visión era muy pobre para caminar por la playa.

En 1926 empezó a escribir con letras mayúsculas grandes.

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2011-09-07T09:43:00.007-05:00

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MORE FROM JAMES JOYCE
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by Manuel Lasso
email: prvasq131195@ aol.com
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Taken from Twitter.com/Manuel_Lasso
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James Joyce lived in Paris for a year. He returned to Dublin only when he received a telegram stating that his mother was dying.

Joyce spent six nights at the Martello Tower with a medical student, Oliver St. John Golgarty, who became the model for Buck Mulligan

During an altercation among drunken room mates, Golgarty shot a gun at several pans hanging above Joyce's head.

Joyce abandoned Golgarty's place and went to Dublin to stay with some relatives.
A common practice among physicians in those years was to carry a gun. Dr. Watson, Sherlock Homes' partner, used to do the same.

Joyce eloped with Nora to the continent.

In Plymouth the lomo saltado was excellent.

For Joyce the hot and steaming parihuela was a mouth-watering surprise. Better even than in Dublin.

He lifted the spoon and his glasses became foggy. He wanted to sing an old Irish song.

His tenor voice was heard all over the restaurant.

Buck Mulligan finished his beer glass. White foam remained in the inside of the glass. He should've tried a Pilsener.

The tamales with salsa criolla made him cry of pleasure. Joyce said: Never more!

The return to the big city was a fast one. He spent all the time sleeping in the back seat. He did not enjoy the landscape this time.

Only once he woke up and asked if we were in Janesville already.

Then he asked if Buck Mulligan had stayed en Eau Claire.

MAS DE JAMES JOYCE

James Joyce vivió en París por un año. Retornó a Dublín sólo cuando recibió un telegrama anunciándole que su madre estaba muriendo.

James Joyce pasó seis noches en Martello Tower con un estudiante de medicina, Oliver St. John Golgarty, quien se convirtió en el modelo de Buck Mulligan.

Durante un altercado Golgarty le disparó con una pistola a varias ollas que colgaban por encima de la cabeza de Joyce.

Joyce abandonó la casa de Golgarty y se fue a Dublin a casa de unos familiares.

Era una práctica común entre médicos en aquella época cargar armas de fuego. El Dr. Watson, el socio de Sherlock Homes, acostumbraba hacer lo mismo.

Joyce fugó con Norah al continente.

No volvio a ver a Galgarty otra vez; pero lo uso para crear a su personaje Buck Mulligan.

El lomo saltado estuvo excelente.

Para James Joyce la parihuela caliente y vaporosa fue una extraordinaria sorpresa. Mejor aun que en Dublin.

El levantó la cuchara y sus anteojos se empañaron. Le dieron ganas de cantar una antigua canción irlandesa.

Su voz de tenor se escuchó en todo el restaurante.

Buck Mulligan terminó su vaso de cerveza. La espuma blanca quedó resbalando en el interior del vaso. Debió de haber probado una Pilsen.

Los tamales con salsa criolla le hicieron llorar de placer. Joyce dijo: ¡Nunca más!

El retorno fue rápido. Joyce pasó el tiempo durmiendo en el asiento posterior. No gozó del paisaje esta vez.

Sólo se despertó una vez y preguntó si ya estábamos en Janesville.

Luego preguntó si Buck Mulligan se había quedado en Eau Clair.
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2011-08-26T20:34:00.019-05:00

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THE SUBATOMIC PARTICLES (Tweets) OF THE STRUCTURE OF ULYSSES
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by Manuel Lasso
email: prvasq131195@ aol.com

Taken from Twitter.com/Manuel_Lasso
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Manuel Lasso
@Manuel_Lasso
A Peruvian novelist and playwright
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http://manuellasso.blogspot.com/
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Time to read Ulysses.

Where is Stephen Dedalus? He was having breakfast with Mulligan.

Dedalus is complaining now that Haines was talking the entire night about shooting a black panther. Did you hear that?

Dedalus and Mulligan are pouring the golden honey on their breads, drinking hot tea. Can you see them? Is Joyce breakfasting also?

The landlady is pouring milk from a can. How much milk would you like in your tea, Mr. Joyce?

Walking along the beach Haines asks Dedalus to discuss a theory about Hamlet...

They depart, but agree to meet again at a bar, the Ship. Where is James Joyce? Writing the details of this episode. Can't you see him?

Can't you see him? He is there, above us. Look well. Thick glasses. Gray haired moustaches. Writing with a fountain pen...

Stephen Dedalus teaches ancient Greek literature in a school for rich kids. Its director is Garett Deasy, who pretends to be a scholar.

Deasy wants Dedalus tu publish a letter in The Evening Telegraph. The letter is badly written.

Dedalus walks by Sandymount beach, annoyed because he has to edit the letter and bring it to the newspaper.

Dedalus decides not to meet with Mulligan and Haines at the Ship, at 12:30, as agreed.

8 A.M. Leopold Bloom serves milk to his cat and prepares breakfast for his wife.

For himself he cooks a pork kidney in the oven. Are you aware of Jewish culinary, Mr. Joyce?

He treats his wife very well even when he knows of her affair with Blazes Boylan.

Bloom attends the funeral of his friend Paddy Dignam. He rides in a carriage with Simon Dedalus and talk about death.

James Joyce travels with them, in the same coach, looking at the tramline.

It is an inconsequential funeral, they say. Pallbearers, requiem mass, firing of a volley. Cakes for the dead. It's all the same.

Bloom goes to The Evening Telegraph to publish an advertisement. Crosses paths with Dedalus; but they do not speak.

He continues his walking through Dublin. He stops in a pub to eat a gorgonzola blue cheese sandwich with a glass of wine.

At the National Library he reads newspapers and searches documents related to the advertising he is making.

James Joyce is by his side reviewing another newspaper. He passes the page, glances quickly and passes the page over.

Both review the newspapers briskly. One stands at the side of the other. But they do not notice their own presence.

Later, in a pub, Barney Kiernan, a drunkard, insults Bloom with antisemitic remarks.

When Bloom exits the bar the drunk Kiernan throws a tin box at him; but it falls on the street. The Cyclops.

10 P.M. Bloom goes to the National Maternity Hospital. His friend, Mrs. Mina Purefoy is in labor.

James Joyce walks by his side, holding his hat over his chest. Long hospital pavillion. White beds. Some mothers with their babies.

Bloom finds Dedalus drinking with Buck Mulligan and his friends.
Mrs. Purefoy delivers her child. Bloom goes with Dedalus to a pub.

Then they go to a brothel. Bloom imagines his wife Molly and Boylan together. Dedalus remembers his dead mother.

On the street, Dedalus gets into a fight with two soldiers. A punch on the face knocks Dedalus out. He lays flat on the sidewalk.

Bloom comes to his aid. Joyce also runs to assist him. A crowd surrounds them and several policemen arrive.

One of the soldiers says that Dedalus insulted his woman. Bloom defends Dedalus: "You hit him without provocation."

Joyce is outraged and pale. Mortified eyes, thick glasses. Grey moustaches. "Yes, sir! He hit him without provocation. I am a witness."

The police disperses the multitude and agrees not to report the incident.

Bloom and Dedalus go to a place to eat something.

They meet a drunken sailor who has traveled around the world, just like Ulysses.

Joyce observes them while they talk.

Finally, they arrive to Ithaca, Bloom's house.

Bloom has to break in because he has forgotten the key.

Joyce enters after them.

We'll continue with the subatomic particles (quarks, muons and electro neutrinos) of the structure of Ulysses.

After a while Dedalus goes home.

Bloom meets Penelope after his one day Odyssey. She is still awake.

Molly thinks of Blazes Boylan and about her youth.

Molly thinks about food, sex , war, soldiers, bullfighting...

Let's continue with the subatomic particles of the structure of Ulysses.

Joyce enters the bed by the side of Molly. He is still dressed, with his hat on. Thick glasses. Fountain pen and notebook in hand.

Molly remembers the days she met Leopold Bloom. Wine shops open until midnight. Castanets.

Joyce plays the castanets with his left hand. He doesn't like the sounds he makes. Looks at them with displeasure. Drops them.

They missed the boat in Algeciras. The crimson and glorious sunset. The fig trees in the gardens of the Alameda.

While Molly and Bloom sleep, Joyce writes furiously on his notebook trying not to miss anything that goes through his mind.

Gibraltar. Molly remembers when she put a rose in her hair like an Andalusian girl. Leopold kissed her under the Moorish wall...

... and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

Joyce writes Trieste-Zürich-Paris, 1914-1921. He raises the pen and remains thinking.
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Manuel Lasso
@Manuel_Lasso
A Peruvian novelist and playwright
http://manuellasso.blogspot.com

Tiempo de leer el Ulises de Joyce.

¿Dónde está Stephen Dedalus? Estaba desayunando con Mulligan...

Dedalus se está quejando de que Haines se pasó toda la noche hablando de la manera de dispararle a una pantera negra. ¿Escuchaste eso?

Dedalus y Mulligan están echando miel dorada sobre sus panes, bebiendo te caliente. ¿Los pueden ver? ¿Está Joyce desayunando también?

La dueña les está echando leche de una lata. ¿Cuánta crema le gustaría en su te, Sr. Joyce?

Caminando por la playa Haines le pide a Dedalus que hable sobre una teoría acerca de Hamlet...

Se despiden, pero acuerdan reunirse en un bar, la Nave. ¿Dónde está James Joyce? Escribiendo este episodio. ¿No lo pueden ver?

¿No lo ven? Alli está, arriba. Miren bien. Lentes gruesos. Bigotes canosos. Escribiendo con una pluma fuente...

Stephen Dedalus enseña literatura griega antigua en una escuela para niños ricos. El director es Garett Deasy, un falso intelectual.

Deasy quiere que Dedalus publique una carta en The Evening Telegraph. La carta está mal escrita.

Dedalus camina por la playa de Sandymount, molesto porque tiene que corregir la carta y llevarla al periódico.

Dedalus decide no encontrarse con Mulligan y Haines en la Nave, a las 12:30, como habían acordado.

8 A.M. Leopoldo Bloom le sirve leche a su gato y prepara el desayuno para su esposa.

Para él se prepara una porción de riñón de puerco. ¿Está usted informado acerca de la culinaria judía, Sr. Joyce?

El trata bien a su esposa a pesar de saber de su romance con Blazes Boylan.

Bloom asiste al funeral de su amigo Paddy Dignam. Viaja en un coche con Simón Dedalus y hablan sobre la muerte.

James Joyce viaja con ellos en el mismo coche mirando a las líneas del tren.

Es un entierro lastimoso, dicen. Portaféretros, requiem mass, tiros de fusil. Pastelillos de muerto. Todo es lo mismo.

Bloom se dirige al The Evening Telegraph para publicar un aviso. Se encuentra con Dedalus; pero no se hablan.

Continúa caminando por Dublin. Se detiene en un bar para comer queso azul gorgonzola y una copa de vino.

En la Biblioteca Nacional lee periódicos en busca de documentos que se relacionen con el aviso que está publicando

James Joyce está a su lado revisando otro periódico. Pasa una página, mira rápidamente y vuelve a pasar la página.

Ambos examinan los periódicos con rapidez. Uno está al lado del otro. Pero ninguno nota la presencia del otro.

Más tarde, en un bar, Barney Kiernan, un borracho, insulta a Bloom con afirmaciones antisemíticas.

Al salir del bar, Kiernan le arroja a Bloom una caja de lata; pero ésta cae en la calle. Los cíclopes.

10 P.M. Bloom va al Hospital de Maternidad Nacional. Su amiga, la Sra. Mina Purefoy esta por dar a luz.

Joyce camina a su lado, sosteniendo el sombrero sobre su pecho. Pabellón de hospital largo. Camas blancas. Madres con sus bebes.

Bloom encuentra a Dedalus bebiendo con Buck Mulligan y sus amigos.

La Sra. Purefoy da a luz. Bloom va con Dedalus a un bar.

Van a un lenocinio. Bloom imagina a su esposa Molly y a Boylan juntos. Dedalus recuerda a su madre fallecida.

En la calle, Dedalus pelea con dos soldados. Le dan un puñetazo en la cara y Dedalus cae desmayado. Yace inmóvil en la vereda.

Bloom corre a ayudarlo. Joyce se acerca también. Una multitud los rodea y varios policías llegan.

Uno de los soldados dice que Dedalus insultó a su mujer. Bloom defiende a Dedalus: "Usted lo golpeó sin él haberlo provocado."

Joyce está ofendido y pálido. Ojos encolerizados. Bigotes grises. "¡Sí, señor! El lo golpeó sin provocación. Yo soy testigo."

La policía dispersa a la multitud y acepta no reportar el incidente.

Bloom y Dedalus van a un lugar a comer.

Allí encuentran a un marinero ebrio que ha viajado por todo el mundo, tan igual como Ulises.

Joyce los observa de pie mientras que ellos conversan.

Finalmente, llegan a Itaca, la casa de Bloom.

Bloom tiene que forzar la entrada porque ha olvidado sus llaves.

Joyce ingresa detrás de ellos.

Continuaremos con las partículas subatómicas (quarks, muons y electro neutrinos) de la estructura del Ulises.

Luego de un momento Dedalus se va a su casa.

Bloom se encuentra con Penélope. Ella todavía está despierta.

Molly piensa en Blazes Boylan y en su juventud.

Molly piensa en comida, sexo, guerras, soldados, corridas de toros...

Continuemos con las partículas subatómicas de la estructura del Ulises.

Joyce se mete a la cama por el lado de Molly. Todavía vestido, con el sombrero puesto. Anteojos gruesos. Pluma fuente y cuaderno en mano.

Molly recuerda los días en que conoció a Leopold Bloom. Tiendas de vino abiertas hasta la medianoche. Castañuelas.

Joyce toca las castañuelas con la mano izquierda. No le gustan los sonidos que hace. Las mira con desagrado. Las suelta.

Perdieron el bote en Algeciras. El atardecer rojizo y glorioso. Las higueras de los jardines de la Alameda.

Mientras que Molly y Bloom duermen, Joyce escribe furiosamente tratando de no perder nada de lo que está pasando por su mente.

Gibraltar. Molly recuerda cuando ella se colocó una rosa en sus cabellos como una andaluza. Cuando él la besó debajo de la pared mora.

... y su corazón palpitaba como loco y sí yo dije sí lo hare. Sí.

Joyce escribe Trieste-Zürich-Paris, 1914-1921. Levanta la pluma y permanece pensando.
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2011-07-25T08:12:00.007-05:00

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FROM THE FRAM, NORWAY,

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IN HER DARKEST HOUR

From: cecilie.landsverk@mfa.no
To: PRVASQ131195@aol.com (Manuel Lasso)
Sent: 7/25/2011 3:13:15 A.M. Central Daylight Time
Subj: FW: Condolences

Dear Sir,
On behalf of the Norwegian people, I would like to thank you warmly for your expressed support regarding the terrible crimes in Oslo and on Utøya on Friday 22 July. At the Norwegian Embassy in Ankara we are most grateful and moved by all the condolences and warm messages received. I can assure you that all of them will be conveyed to Oslo and the Norwegian people.

Norway finds itself in deep grief after the attack on innocent young people and the attack our democracy. We are deeply shocked by the scale of this National catastrophe and we mourn the loss of so many lives.

The Norwegian Foreign minister, Mr. Jonas Gahr Støre, has expressed that politically motivated violence is a threat to our society, however, we cannot accept that this attack will ruins us. Our values and what we believe in will continue to be the backbone of our society. The Minister has said that tomorrow’s Norway will be recognizable, - nobody shall be able to dismantle our values and our democracy.

Please find the link to Prime Minister, Mr. Jens Stoltenberg’s speech at the memorial ceremony in Oslo Cathedral on Sunday, 24 July. http://www.regjeringen.no/nb/dep/smk/aktuelt/taler_og_artikler/statsministeren/statsminister_jens_stoltenberg/2011/tale-ved-statsminister-jens-stoltenberg-.html?id=651789

Regards,

Cecilie Landsverk
Ambassador

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Speech by Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg in Oslo Cathedral

Deres Majesties,
Akjære all together, it is now nearly two days since Norway was hit by the greatest atrocity since the war. At Utøya and at Oslo. It feels like an eternity. There have been hours, days and nights filled with shock, despair, anger and tears. Today it is time for sorrow.On these days we should allow ourselves to stop it. Honor the dead.
92 human lives are lost. Several are still missing. Any and all of those who have passed away is a tragedy. Taken together, the loss is a national tragedy. We are striving to comprehend the scope. All of us knew someone who is gone. Even more know of any. One of them was Monica. For 20 years, she worked at Utøya. For many of us, she was Utøya. Now she is dead. Shot and killed while she watched for the care and safety of young people from across the country. Her husband John and daughters Victoria and Helene are in Drammen church today. This is so unfair. Please know that we weep with you. Others are gone, Tore Eikeland. Leader of AUF in Bergen and one of our most talented young politicians. We remember that he got all the national congress of the Labour Party to cheer when he was a dedicated post on the EU postal directive, and won. Now he's dead. Gone forever. It is not understandable. These are two of those we have lost. We have lost many others, in the Utøya and government building. It did not tarnish our name and image at all. When the extent of the evil emerge in all its horror. There will be a new trial. We will manage it well. Despite all this tragedy, I am proud to live in a country that has managed to rise at a critical time. Everyone is impressed with how much dignity, care and strength we have met this tragedy. We are a small country but we are a proud people. We are still shaken by what hit us, but we never give up our values. The answer is more democracy, more openness and more humanity. But never naivety. No one could have said it nicer than the AUF girl who was interviewed by CNN: "If one man can see so much hate, think how much love we can all see together." To end, let me say to the families across the country who have lost a loved one: Receive my and all of Norway's deepest sympathy in your grief. Just that. The whole world is with you. I have promised to convey condolences to you from Barack Obama, Vladimir Putin, Frederik Reinfeldt, Angela Merkel, Nothing can never replace the loss. Nothing can bring the loved ones back. Certainly we need support and consolation when life is at its darkest moment. Life is at its darkest hour for you now. Let it be know that we are there for you.
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Manuel Lasso

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2011-06-30T05:53:00.004-05:00

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BORGES EN EL RECUERDO
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por Manuel Lasso
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La última y única vez que hablé con Borges fue en la Capilla de la Madonna della Strada en la Universidad de Loyola, a orillas del Lago Michigan, pocos meses antes de su muerte. Se encontraba bastante avanzado en su evolución humana de modo que lo tuvieron que llevar casi cargando a la mesa de conferencias y en medio de esa audiencia tan variada se le veía como a un gigante ancianísimo.
Tenía la apariencia de un caballero de los comienzos del siglo XX y por tal razón me hacía acordar de mi abuelo Nicanor porque llevaba el mismo estilo de peinado, hacia atrás, como se usaba en esos tiempos y se apoyaba en un bastón, levantando el mentón. Aún sus expresiones coloquiales eran similares a las que yo había observado en el padre de mi progenitor.
Traigo a la memoria con mucha claridad el saludo que le dio a uno de los asistentes y es tan nítida esta reminiscencia que hasta me parece estarlo escuchando en este momento, sonríendo y apoyando las manos sobre el mango de su brillante bastón:
"Que bien que estamos, ¿verdad?"
Hice todo esfuerzo posible por aproximarme y hablarle porque sabía que no habría otra oportunidad. Lo rememoro platicando sobre The sound and the fury de William Faulkner que por alguna razón parecía despertarle una inmensa satisfacción; pero lo que evoco con más nitidez es la respuesta que dio a una pregunta de los estudiantes:
"Borges, ¿qué consejos le podría dar a los jóvenes de hoy?"
Y él, con una voz muy frágil y apagada, casi como si le estuviese hablando al oído, respondió:
"El mismo consejo que me dio mi padre. No se apresuren por publicar... Recuerden que por la imprenta perecerán..."
Cierto tiempo después, luego de algunos años, cuando me encontraba leyendo un cuento de Pushkin tuve la sensación de estar percibiendo a Borges. Me pareció algo inusitado e increíble, en ese instante, pasar por las líneas de Pushkin y tener la impresión de estar leyendo a Borges. Indudablemente era algo imposible, porque Aleksander Pushkin nació cien años antes, en 1799 y murió en un duelo, siendo muy joven, en 1837. Por lo tanto tenía que ser al revés. Cuando se leía a Borges se tenía que tener la impresión de estar leyendo a Pushkin.
Jorge Luis Borges siempre reconoció al narrador ruso como a uno de los autores que más habían influenciado en su desarrollo artístico. Ahí entonces se encontraba la explicación.
A continuación los invito a leer esta versión del cuento El disparo
http://www.apocatastasis.com/disparo-memorable-alexander-pushkin.php
que provocó en mi ese efecto memorable y a identificar los fragmentos, las líneas o los párrafos que podrían haber motivado dicha influencia.

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REMEMBRANCES OF BORGES
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The last time I spoke with Jorge Luis Borges was at the Chapel of la Madonna della Strada, at the University of Loyola, by the shore of the Lake Michigan, a few months before his demise.
He was very advanced on his evolution, so he had to be carried to the podium and within that diverse audience he seemed like a honorable Ancient. He had the appearance of a gentleman of the beginning of the XX century and because of that reason he reminded me of my grandfather Nicanor, who used the same hair style and the same necktie, as it was the fashion during those times. Even his colloquial expressions seemed similar to the ones I had observed on my ancestor.
I remember with unusual clearness the greeting he gave to one of the attendees. So lucid is that reminiscence that it seems to me that I am listening to him at this moment, smiling and holding the handle of his bright cane.
"How well we are doing, aren't we?"
I made all possible efforts to be near him because I knew there would not be another chance. I remember him talking about The sound and the fury which for some unknown reason seemed to be of his liking. However, what I remember most is the answer he gave to one of the students.
"Borges, what advice can you give to the young students?"
With a fragile and soft voice, he answered:
"The same advice my father gave me: Don't rush for publication. You may die by the print."
Some time afterwards, perhaps several years later, when I was reading a short story by Pushkin, I had the sensation of perceiving Borges style. It seemed incredible to pore over the lines of Pushkin and have the impresion that I was reading Borges. Undoubtedly that was something impossible, because Aleksander Pushkin was born a hundred years earlier, in 1799 and died in a duel, still young, in 1837. Therefore it had to be the reverse. When I was reading Borges I had to have the sensation of reading Pushkin.
Jorge Luis Borges always considered the Russian poet as one of the authors who had influenced on his artistic development.
We invite you now to read the short story The shot
http://gaslight.mtroyal.ab.ca/TheShot.htm
which produced on me such a memorable effect.
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Biografía y Textos de Manuel Lasso en:
http://www.letralia.com/firmas/lassomanuel.htm
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2011-06-29T08:55:00.010-05:00

IF A NUCLEAR MISSILE EXPLODES IN THE CENTER OF THIS GREAT CITY...

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CRITIQUE TO HUMAN ESTULTITIA:
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Dialogues in front of a nuclear explosion in the center of a great city
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by Manuel Lasso

BERNARDO: What would happen, sir, if a nuclear missile explodes in the center of this great city?
ORESTES: It would be something extraordinarily frightening. From the distance it will be seen as an immense ball of red fire and black smoke rising swiftly and covering almost half of this ancient city.
BERNARDO: Half of this city?
ORESTES: As you sensorially perceive me and hear me. It would be a gigantic explosion which from the beginning would have instantaneously destroyed a large part of the city and would be advancing towards the periphery at an inconceivable speed.
BERNARDO: It would have to be observed from a considerable distance. ORESTES: Yes, indeed. Due to its extraordinary destructive power it could only be seen from a remote place. Before it used to be observed from a very close location, mainly by some megalomaniac generals who would get drunk as much as they could and climb to a tribune. Staggering, with teary eyes, their chests full of medals, they would sing the national anthem looking at the elevation of the red smoky mushroom in the distance.
BERNARDO: To see exactly how it could be used...
ORESTES: Yes. To see if they could use it, seeking for glory, in the splendor of the battlefield, either during an attack on the enemy forces that seemed meek, feeble and easy to defeat or during the disorderly retreat of their own terrified troops when the artillery of the adversary turned out to be more lethal and destructive than expected. In reality, those generals could not comprehend that the only eye of the soul is understanding as Aristotle taught us and not the liquor drank at an inappropriate moment. Later on, it was found that these curious spectators, despite the medals hanging from their jackets, would become very ill with Acute Radiation Syndrome. From that moment the generals gallery remained empty. This is a weapon that would charmingly amuse a homicidal and vicious leader like Hitler, Caligula or Attila the Hun.

NO TO NUCLEAR BOMBS

NO TO ATOMIC REACTORS

NO TO RADIOIMMUNOASSAY WASTE

2011-06-07T09:33:00.010-05:00

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IODINE-131
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AFTER A RADIOACTIVE FALLOUT IODINE-131 CONTAMINATES FOOD
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INGESTED IODINE-131 CAN CAUSE THYROID CANCER
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NO NUCLEAR WEAPONS
NO ATOMIC REACTORS
NO MORE RADIOIMMUNOASSAYS WASTE
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Manuel Lasso

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Biografía y Textos de Manuel Lasso en:
http://www.letralia.com/firmas/lassomanuel.htm
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2011-05-10T22:43:00.024-05:00

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Manuel Gutiérrez Sousa: Itinerary of a little god

by Manuel Lasso

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Vicente Huidobro's dictum, the poet is a little god, cannot be applied with more justice to no other than Manuel Gutiérrez Sousa and his literary work. His narrative gifts have already been observed in numerous articles published through several years in a Venezuelan newspaper and in his novel Thus Arturo told me, consecrated by the critic in a Valencian book fair upon receiving the Vicente Blasco Ibáñez prize. It surprises and pleases us to know that his creative talents are also noticed in the field of poetry, especially in his book Rails of Chimeras, in which he reveals us, through exuberant images, a search which ends in the conception of brilliant literary chimeras.

At the beginning of the book, when we cannot still understand the reality of things, we find a solitary traveler whose ferocious crossings takes us through uneven places where he finds the consolation of astrology. It is the case of a slimy savage, because all creation arises from the mud, who advances through unidentifiable places, sleeping outdoors. Perhaps it is a crazy being who lives without eating, dreaming around the fire.

In the middle of the reading when incertitude has entranced the reader, I came from the debris becomes a key poem because here the savage, seeker of words, foresees for the first time the chimeras that obsesses him. The reader discovers that the cruel journey, up to this moment without repose, aims to the attainment of a poem.

It is a fantastic trip in search of poetry. It is the pursuit of a literary achievement that avoids him. In his quest he advances through hell and madness. The monster creates symbols which unintentionally he drops on his path as trails and the reader has to pick them up before losing him. We find ourselves in the hunt of a little god who in its hallucinating exploration advances through wastelands and utter darkness, helping himself with the predictions of the stars, lighting the fire as a non human who charges with alienation and sacrifice stones, trying to augur the possible hiding-places of poetry.

In whistling rolls the sun we find another indication of his chimeras; the Inca sounds are the ones that touches him because he is a direct descendant of the Amarus and the Huaman Pomas. He knows that he possesses the fire of creation; but it is in the section The book of the four illuminated in which he sees dancing gods with masks and listens to the voices of invisible bulls.

Finally, in day three and when the moon breaks six tips he finds the sought images. There he discovers four resplendent poems.They are the sun crossing through the square, Ra living with Aton, Prometheus with Kufán, Inti with Neptune, Apollo with Tuyman. In these four poems the creator achieves the desired incandescence. They are poems of great lucidity that represent the salvation of the pursuer and his epiphany.

They constitute a succession of action and visual images, like the ones we can see in the worlds of Dalí and Yves Tanguy, that disturb us; but at the same time enlighten us. They indicate to us that the passionate journeying of Huidobro's little god has arrived to its destiny, to the consecution of his dreams.

In short, in Rails of Chimeras, Manuel Gutiérrez Sousa uses diverse images to show the stages and the process of the poetic creation, that starting in the darkness, in a wandering trip, arrives to the fullness of a literary brightness, to the discovery of its more obsessive and intimate chimeras.
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Manuel Gutiérrez Sousa: Itinerario de un pequeño dios

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por Manuel Lasso

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El dictum de Vicente Huidobro, el poeta es un pequeño dios, no se puede aplicar con más justicia que al caso de Manuel Gutiérrez Sousa y a su obra literaria. Sus dotes de prosista ya han sido advertidas en numerosos artículos publicados por varios años en un diario venezolano y en su novela Así me dijo Arturo, consagrada por la crítica en la Feria del Libro de Valencia al recibir el premio Vicente Blasco Ibáñez. Nos sorprende y complace saber que sus dotes creadoras también se observan en el campo de la poesía y en especial en su poemario Raíles de Quimeras, en el que a través de imágenes exuberantes nos revela una búsqueda que culmina en el logro de brillantes quimeras literarias.
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. Al inicio de la lectura, cuando todavía no podemos comprender la realidad de las cosas, encontramos a un viajante solitario cuya travesía feroz nos lleva por lugares escabrosos donde encuentra el consuelo de la astrología. En realidad se trata de un salvaje enlodado, porque del lodo surge toda creación, que avanza por lugares no identificables, durmiendo a la intemperie; tal vez es un ser enloquecido que vive sin comer alrededor del fuego. A mitad de la lectura cuando la incertitud se ha poseído del lector, Yo venía de los escombros se convierte en un poema clave porque aquí el salvaje, buscador de vocablos, entrevee por primera vez a las quimeras que lo obsesionan. El lector descubre que la jornada cruel, hasta ese momento sin descanso, tiene como fin la consecución del poema.
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. Es un periplo fantástico en busca de la poesía. Es la persecución de un logro literario que lo evade. En su indagación atraviesa por infiernos y locuras. El monstruo va creando símbolos que sin intención deja caer en su trayectoria como rastros y huellas que el lector tiene que recoger para poder seguirlo en su marcha antes de perderlo. Nos encontramos a la caza de un pequeño dios que en su exploración alucinada avanza a través de desiertos y tinieblas, ayudándose con las predicciones de las estrellas, encendiendo el fuego como un ser no humano que embiste por medio de las enajenaciones y de piedras de sacrificios tratando de adivinar los posibles escondites de la poesía.
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. En el sol rueda silbando encuentra otro indicio de sus quimeras; son los sonidos incaicos los que lo conmueven porque es descendiente directo de los Amarus y de los Huaman Pomas. Sabe que posee la candelita de la creación; pero es en la sección titulada El libro de los Cuatro Iluminados en la que ve a dioses con máscaras; los ve danzar y escucha las voces de los toros invisibles.

Finalmente algo sucede. En día tres y cuando la luna rompe seis puntas halla a las imágenes buscadas. Allí descubre cuatro poemas bien iluminados en los que encuentra a las quimeras. Es el cuadrado que deja pasar al sol. Ra conviviendo con Aton, Prometeo con Kufán, Inti con Neptuno, Apolo con Tuyman. Al fin en estos cuatro poemas el creador consigue el resplandor deseado. Son poemas de gran lucidez que representan la salvación del perseguidor y su epifanía.
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. Constituyen una sucesión de imágenes fantásticas, visuales y de acción, como las que se ven en los mundos de Dalí y de Yves Tanguy, que nos inquietan y a la vez nos iluminan y nos indican que las correrías locas del pequeño dios de Huidobro han llegado a su término, a la consecución de unos sueños bien logrados.

En suma, en Raíles de Quimeras, Manuel Gutiérrez Sousa usa imágenes diversas para demostrar los estadíos y procesos de la creación poética, que partiendo de la oscuridad en un viaje errante llega a la plenitud de la luminosidad literaria, al descubrimiento de sus quimeras más obsesionantes e íntimas.
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Biografía y Textos de Manuel Lasso en:
http://www.letralia.com/firmas/lassomanuel.htm

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2011-03-27T07:59:00.012-05:00

NO NUCLEAR WEAPONS! NO ATOMIC REACTORS! NO MORE RADIOIMMUNOASSAYS WASTE!

¡NO A LAS ARMAS NUCLEARES! ¡NO A LOS REACTORES ATÓMICOS! ¡NO MÁS DESECHOS DE PRUEBAS RADIOINMUNES!

LET'S LEAVE A BETTER WORLD TO OUR INHERITORS WHO HAVE NOT BEEN BORN YET, THE HOMO SAPIENS OF THE FUTURE, BECAUSE ONE DAY WE WILL BE ASHES AND THEY WILL BE ALIVE

DEJEMOS UN MUNDO MEJOR PARA NUESTROS HEREDEROS QUE AUN NO HAN NACIDO, LOS HOMO SAPIENS DEL FUTURO, PORQUE ALGUN DÍA NOSOTROS SEREMOS CENIZAS Y ELLOS ESTARÁN VIVOS

Manuel Lasso

ETERNAL RECURRENCE

2011-03-15T22:21:00.025-05:00

ARE WE REPEATING WHAT WE DID NOT LEARN FROM THE PAST?

(Nietzsche's Eternal Recurrence)

¿ESTAMOS REPITIENDO LO QUE NO APRENDIMOS DEL PASADO?

(El eterno retorno de Nietzsche).

INSTRUCTIONS IN CASE OF A NUCLEAR DISASTER

INSTRUCTIONS FOR THOSE WHO NEED IT

September 25, 2010

IN CASE IT HAPPENS

Turn around and give your back to the blast.

Cover your eyes and lay flat on the floor.

Wait until the heat wave and the two shock waves have passed.

Cover your nose and mouth until the fallout is over.

Do not contaminate shelter with radioactive dust. Unclothe and shower before entering.

Turn off ventilation system.

Seal doors and windows.

Stay in shelter until you are told to do so.

Listen to the radio for instructions.

Use only water and food you have stored in advance.

INSTRUCCIONES PARA LOS QUE LO NECESITEN

25 de setiembre del 2010

EN CASO QUE SUCEDA

Voltéese y de la espalda a la explosión.

Cubra sus ojos y manténgase acostado en el piso. Espere a que la onda de calor y las dos olas de choque hayan pasado.

Cúbrase la nariz y la boca hasta que la caída de material radioactivo haya terminado.

No contamine el refugio con polvo radioactivo. Desvístase y dúchese antes de entrar.

Apague el sistema de ventilación.

Selle puertas y ventanas.

Manténgase en el refugio hasta que le digan que ya puede salir.

Escuche la radio por instrucciones.

Use solo agua y alimentos que haya guardado con anterioridad.

Conduite à tenir en cas d'explosion nucléaire

Tournez-vous, restez de dos à l'explosion.

Couvez vos yeux et allongez-vous à plat-ventre sur le sol.

Attendez dans cette position jusqu'à ce que la vague de chaleur et les deux ondes de choc soient terminées. Couvrez-vous le nez et la bouche jusqu'à la fin des retombées.

Ne laissez pas la poussière radioactive entrer dans l'abri et le contaminer.

Déshabillez-vous et prenez une douche avant d'entrer dans l'abri.

Arrêtez le système d'aération.

Fermez hermétiquement portes et fenêtres.

Restez dans l'abri jusqu'à la fin de l'alerte.

Ecoutez la radio pour connaître la situation et les instructions.

N'utilisez que l'eau et la nourriture que vous aurez stockées dans l'abri, à l'avance.

Manuel Lasso

From Critique to Human Estultitia

2011-03-12T15:08:00.003-06:00

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To see

IN CASE IT HAPPENS

click here

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2011-03-11T21:21:00.013-06:00

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A NUCLEAR REACTOR ACCIDENT

. 130 MILIGRAMS

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YES. HUMANS CAN TAKE 130 MILIGRAMS OF POTASSIUM IODIDE OR 500 MILIGRAMS OF PRUSSIAN BLUE TO PREVENT THE ABSORTION OF THE FALLING RADIOACTIVE MATERIAL. BUT HOW CAN WE DEMONSTRATE THAT IT IS TOO DANGEROUS TO HAVE NUCLEAR REACTORS?

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Manuel Lasso

from Critique to Human Estultitia

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2011-02-03T19:50:00.021-06:00

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G A L A X I E S

Click here

With so many galaxies in the universe with no one intending to use nuclear weapons, why do we have to tolerate the military policies of a megalomaniac lider?

Does he have any cosmic significance compared to this magnificent creation of God?

Manuel Lasso

To Critique to Human Estultitia

SALUDOS DE NAVIDAD. CHRISTMAS GREETINGS

2010-12-24T08:15:00.010-06:00

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DESDE HIDALGO-MEXICO

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From: presencia@univision.com

To: PRVASQ131195@aol.com (Manuel Lasso)

Sent: 12/22/2010 11:29:38 P.M. Central Standard Time

Subj: Re: Muchas felicidades
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Estimado y distinguido maestro... Agradezco este su mensaje especial, apreciando tambièn su amistad y distinciòn para con esta su humilde servidora. Por lo tanto como espejo, igual me reflejo, deseando que la paz, el amor y la dicha inunden hoy y siempre ese corazòn grandioso, en uniòn de los suyos queridos, y que el Gran Hacedor del Universo le guìe y que ese Angel de Luz le acompañe en sus caminos hasta el ùltimo momento.

Sinceramente

Leonora.

Felicidades....

Hidalgo-Mèxico. Diciembre/2010.

From: presencia@univision.com

To: PRVASQ131195@aol.com

Sent: 12/22/2010 11:29:38 P.M. Central Standard Time

Subj: Re: Muchas felicidades
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Dear and distinguished master… I am thankful for your special message, and I also appreciate your friendship and the honor you make to this humble servant. Therefore, like in a mirror, I equally reflect towards you, wishing that Peace, love and happiness flow, today and always, from your grandiose heart, in company of your beloved ones, and that the Creator of the Universe guide you and the Angel of Light accompanies you in your journey until the last moment.
Sincerely .
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Leonora...
Congratulations….

Hidalgo-Mexico. December/2010

2010-11-12T20:37:00.012-06:00

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UNA FURTIVA LAGRIMA

DONIZETTI
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..........The scenes of act III of the Tragedy of Prince Hamlet or the dialogues of the second part of Quijote will survive for an indefinite period of time as the works of Sophocles and Aeschylus did. However, if a hunter-killer detonates it, no one will survive to enjoy them.

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..........The same will happen to the propositions of the Tractatus Logicus Philosophicus or the Prima Pars of the Summa Theologica. There will be no one who could understand them.

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..........What could we say of the lithographs of Toulouse-Lautrec? Or the paintings of Gauguin? Or the Self-portrait of Van Gogh?

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..........And what will be the destiny of Una furtiva lagrima de Donizetti?

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..........Las escenas del acto III de la Tragedia del Príncipe Hamlet o los diálogos de la Segunda parte del Quijote sobrevivirán por un lapso indefinido como lo hicieron las de Sófocles o las de Esquilo. Sin embargo, si un cazador-matador comete la estulticia de hacerla estallar no quedará nadie que las podrá admirar.

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..........Lo mismo ocurrirá con las proposiciones del Tractatus Logicus Philosophicus o la Prima Pars de la Summa Theologica. No sobrevivirá alguien que las podrá comprender.

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..........¿Y qué podríamos decir de las litografías de Toulouse-Lautrec? ¿O las pinturas de Gauguin? ¿O el Autorretrato de Van Gogh?

..........¿Y cuál será el destino de Una furtiva lagrima de Donizetti?

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(Begin enlarging the screen by pressing on its center... and then, on the lower right corner)

If someone detonates it...

Si alguien la hace estallar...

2010-11-06T06:00:00.016-05:00

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ANNIVERSARY OF THE CREATION OF POEM MASS

November 10, 1937

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MASS
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At the end of the battle,
and killed the combatant, a man came to him
and said: "Don't die, I love you so much!"
But the corpse, alas! kept on dying.

He was approached by two men who repeated:
"Don't leave us! Courage! Come back to life!"
But the corpse, alas! kept on dying.

Then came twenty, a hundred, a thousand, five hundred thousand
crying, "So much love and we can not do anything against Death!"
But the corpse, alas! kept on dying.

Millions of people surrounded him,
with a common plea: "Stay brother!"
But the corpse, alas! kept on dying.

Then all the men on earth
surrounded him; the corpse looked at them sadly, moved;
he raised to his feet slowly,
embraced the first man; began walking...

Cesar Vallejo
November 10, 1937
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MASS: A SCENE OF THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

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The frightening moments of the Spanish Civil War, with its innumerable acts of heroism and idealism, left indelible impressions in the intellectuals of that time. We have among them the attestations of Octavio Paz in The Labyrinth of Solitude and the affirmations of Pablo Neruda in Spain in the heart.

César Vallejo was also moved by the violence of the conflict. After attending the Second International Congress of Writers for the Defense of Culture in Madrid, he traveled to the frontline where he personally saw the horrors of the struggle. Perhaps at some point he wished to stay, with a rifle and a revolver, to fight by the side of the volunteers of the Republic.

But as Miguel Hernández said, while some had to die with the firm chin and the head highly held, others had to sing atop the cannons and the bayonets. Vallejo then returned to France to experience the warmth of the beloved under the blankets and to write, touching on what he observed, the collection of poems entitled Spain, take this chalice away from me.

This photograph of a wounded militiaman, who bends his legs and drops his gun, was the most widespread image of those times. It shows combatant Federico Borrell Garcia, from Alcoy, falling after being fatally shot by a Franco bullet in the Battle of Cerro Muriano during the last Republican effort to recapture the city of Cordoba. It was taken by Hungarian photographer Robert Capa, with a 35 mm Laika camera and was published by Vu magazine in Paris on September 23, 1936, undeniably becoming the best known image of the entire conflict.

The following year, on November 10, 1937, the author of Black stone over a white stone concluded his most surrealistic and almost Beaudelairian poem: Mass. But he did not see it published because he died shortly afterwards on April 15, 1938, victim of a malignant fever of unknown origin which no one could alleviate.

It was as if the formidable Death which Vallejo described shuffling across the bombarded cemeteries and battlefields of Spain, with its cognac, its moral cheekbone and its expletive word, had come to his Parisian apartment to drag him to the Montparnasse even if it had to be done against his will.

Today, November 10, we meditated for a few moments remembering the morning when, with an old typewriter, César Vallejo gave final shape to his poem. Although we were the only ones, we advanced behind the combatant who had just raised slowly and had begun walking...

Manuel Lasso

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November 10, 2002

2010-11-05T08:47:00.008-05:00

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CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

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L’étranger

Qui aimes-tu le mieux, homme énigmatique, dis ? Ton père, ta mère, ta soeur ou ton frère ?

Je n'ai ni père, ni mère, ni soeur, ni frère.

Tes amis ?

Vous vous servez là d’une parole dont le sens m'est restée jusqu'à ce jour inconnu.

Ta patrie ?

J'ignore sous quelle latitude elle est située.

La beauté ?

Je l’aimerais volontiers, déesse et immortelle.

L’or ?

Je le hais comme vous haïssez Dieu.

Eh ! qu'aimes-tu donc, extraordinaire étranger ?

J'aime les nuages... les nuages qui passent... là-bas... là-bas... les merveilleux nuages !
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The Stranger

Tell me, enigmatic man, whom do you love the best? Your father, your mother, your sister, or your brother?

I have neither father, nor mother, nor sister, nor brother.

Your friends?

You are using a word whose meaning remains unknown to me to this very day.

Your country?

I do not know under what latitude it lies.

Beauty?

I would love her gladly, goddess and immortal.

Gold?

I hate it as much as you hate God.

Well then! What do you love, extraordinary stranger?

I love the clouds … the passing clouds … over there … over there … the marvelous clouds!

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El Extranjero

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¿A quién amas más, hombre enigmático? ¿A tu padre, a tu madre, tu hermana o tu hermano?
Yo no tengo padre, ni madre, ni hermana, ni hermano.
¿A tus amigos?
Está usando una palabra cuyo significado es hasta ahora para mí desconocido.
¿A tu patria?
Ignoro en qué latitud se encuentra.
¿A la belleza?
La amaría de buena gana, diosa e inmortal.
¿Al oro?
Lo odio tanto como usted odia a Dios.
¡Eh, entonces! ¿Qué es lo que más amas, extraordinario extranjero?
¡Amo a las nubes... a las nubes que pasan... por allá... por allá... las nubes maravillosas!

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2010-10-21T18:42:00.007-05:00

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El que no aprende del pasado tiende a repetirlo
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Who does not learn from the past, tends to repeat it
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Manuel Lasso
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CHERNOBYL
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BERNARDO: And the survivors?

ORESTES: Only those who were far enough from the explosion will survive; but sometimes I think it would be better not to survive.

BERNARDO: Why not?

ORESTES: Because those poor ones, would suffer terrible deformities. Grotesque bumps will emerge from the skulls of hoarders and spendthrifts. Burns and lethal illnesses will follow. Unexpectedly, third eyes will appear on their foreheads looking at the passing women and moving at their own will. Some survivors will suddenly grow seven heads from their necks and five tails from their rear end, moving each one at different speed and with different rhythm. We'll be surrounded by monsters. It would be a hecatomb, an abstract unity which could not return rationally to the world of the phenomenon. Something that could not even be understood. The worst would be the nuclear winter which will follow soon afterwards.
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Taken from Critique to Human Estultitia
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by
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Manuel Lasso

2010-09-25T07:48:00.016-05:00

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IN CASE IT HAPPENS

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Turn around and give your back to the blast.
Cover your eyes and lay flat on the floor.
Wait until the heat wave and the two shock waves have passed.
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Cover your nose and mouth until the fallout is over.
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(Click on the images)

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Do not contaminate shelter with radioactive dust.
Unclothe and shower before entering.
Turn off ventilation system. Seal doors and windows.
Stay in shelter until you are told to do so.
Listen to the radio for instructions.
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Use only water and food you have stored in advance.

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Desperation

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In case it happens... Remember...
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Manuel Lasso
Critique to Human Estultitia

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2010-09-22T05:42:00.016-05:00

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A LETTER FROM THE PEARL OF THE ORIENT SEA

THE EDEN LOST

Manila Bay

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From: benyuzon@yahoo.com
To: PRVASQ131195@aol.com
Sent: 9/30/2010 5:17:29 P.M. Central Daylight Time
Subj: Fw: In case it happens...

Dear Mr. Lasso,
Thank you so much for sharing your last work, especially for humanity.
May our obsessive dream of everlasting peace come true as this is the first
blessing of the Messiah.
In Sharing your work, our theme & objective "World Brotherhood & Peace Through Poetry" is more than ever strengthened.
Peace, love & light,

Hon. Dr. Benjamin R. Yuzon, M.E.
United Poets Laureate International, President

website: upli-wcp.org
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2010-09-06T17:39:00.008-05:00

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UNA CARTA DE MARIE-MADELEINE GLADIEU DESDE LOS CAMPOS DE BATALLA DE VERDUN (1916)

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From: Mmgladieu1@aol.com

Date: Sat, 4 Sep 2010 14:36:08 EDT

Subject: Re: Mensaje en contra el uso de armas nucleares

To: PRVASQ131195@aol.com

Mi querido Manuel.
Gracias mil veces por tu mail, por tu protesta artística que, una vez más, estimo mucho. Traduces bien en esas imágenes el horror de las guerras, de las armas nucleares, de la locura humana. La vida humana es bastante precaria y finalmente corta para tratar de destruirla, sino por el contrario, deberiamos de hacerla un poco mejor. Acaba de fallecer el padre de mi esposo, falleció el mío hace casi 9 años, se me fueron algunos amigos queridos, no hacen falta armas para acelerar el destino de los seres humanos.
Mi esposo es director de colegio, y acabamos de mudarnos a un pueblo de 4000 habitantes, al que lo destinaron para dirigir un colegio de 850 alumnos y un colegio (que aquí llamamos lycée) profesional de 200. Por fin me llega internet y el correo electrónico. Estoy en la parte fría del país, los bosques de Argonne, los lugares de las batallas de la primera guerra mundial; Verdun está a 20 km. Por aquí destinaron a mi abuelo, que por entonces tenía 18 años, y conoció a mi abuela cuando daban unos días de descanso a los soldados, no muy lejos del frente. Mi abuelo manejaba un camión, sin luces, y cada noche iba a recoger a los soldados que habían quedado entre los dos frentes, muchos eran vietnamitas me dijo, y estaban casi congelados por el frío de estas tierras. Ahora todo ha cambiado, menos mal, el odio a los vecinos alemanes por fin ha cesado, sólo queda el rechazo a los nazis y otros locos inhumanos.
Conservo las imágenes y los textos de tu blog, Manuel, y con tu permiso, los compartiré con mis estudiantes, que son futuros profesores y tienen que participar en todo lo posible para que, al menos, no empeoren las condiciones de vida.
Un fuerte abrazo, y otra vez gracias,

Marie-Madeleine.

From: Mmgladieu1@aol.com
Date: Sat, 4 Sep 2010 14:36: 08 EDT
Subject: Re: Message against the use of nuclear weapons
To: PRVASQ131195@aol.com
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My dear Manuel. Thanks a lot for your mail, for your artistic protest, which again, I like very much. You translate in those images the horror of wars, the nuclear weapons and the human madness so well. Human life is so precarious and we should not try to destroy it. By the contrary, we should try to make it a little better. We just finished with the passing of my husband's father. Mine passed away almost 9 years ago. I have lost some good friends. No one should make efforts to accelerate the destiny of human beings. My husband is a school principal, and we just finished moving into a town of 4000 inhabitants. He was sent to lead a school of 850 students and a school (that we called lycée here) of 200 professionals. Finally I have Internet and my electronic mail as well. We are in the cold part of the country, the forests of Argonne, where the battles of World War I took place; Verdun is 20 km from here. The Army assigned my grandfather to this place. At that time he was 18 years old, and that is how he met my grandmother, during his free days, not far from the front line. My grandfather drove a truck, without lights, and every night he had to go to no man's land to pick up the wounded soldiers. Many were Vietnamese he said to me, and were almost frozen due to the cold temperatures of these lands. Now everything has changed, thanks to God. Hatred to our German neighbors has finally ceased. It is only the rejection of the cruel Nazis and other crazy people that persists. I preserve the images and texts of your blog, Manuel, and with your permission I will share them with my students, who are future teachers and who must participate as far as possible in all this process, so that the conditions of life will not worsen. A strong hug, and again thanks,

Marie-Madeleine

2010-08-31T20:44:00.019-05:00

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FROM THE LAND OF

ACHILLES AND KING OEDIPUS

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EFTICHIA . KAPARDELI

Date: Tue, 31 Aug 2010 20:25:39 +0300

Subject: Re: A message against Nuclear Violence
From: eftichia kapardeli kapardeli@gmail.com

To: PRVASQ131195@aol.com

Thank you so much. It is a remarkable work and you tell the truth. Unfortunately, the core should be reduced to save all mankind.
I send you my 3 poems.Thousand kisses good luck with YOUR WORK

Εύχαριστώ

ΔΡ.ΚΑΠΑΡΔΕΛΗ ΕΥΤΥΧΙΑ

Date: Wed, 1 Sep 2010 21:02:26 +0300

Subject: Re: Thank you

From: eftichia kapardeli kapardeli@gmail.com

To: PRVASQ131195@aol.com

What an honor.

Thank you for FROM THE LAND OF ACHILLES AND KING OEDIPYS

It honors all Greeks

Thanks

IN THE STONE I ROOTED
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It trembles in the hands
the chisel
that indefatigable
the marble works in
bodies without movement in statues of fate the marks it engraves

***
In the ground the foreigner
is tightened the blow
in the Stone of patience hidden wishes
The Stone of unrooting
Leaden
it is rubbed, it is cut, it is deformed in the quarry of heart
the pain and the reason
it is crushed
***
As his colour
yellowed marble from by year's without voice
silent deads feelings of heart
the anguish a sweet ach
a fast breath
***
Language unknown
with the will concealed command in the time
I sculptured the rocks
swords I seized
the fate I caused
the life I loved
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A PRAISE FOR MY POEM IN THE STONE I ROOTED
Municipality [chortiati]-Universityof Free Training JULY 2009

2010-08-31T07:34:00.005-05:00

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BUT WE STILL HAVE THE HOPE...

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LET'S CLING TO IT AND WORK WITH

IT...
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Manuel Lasso

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2010-08-30T06:27:00.008-05:00

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IF ONE DAY, THE HUNTER-KILLER WITHIN AN INSANE HOMO SAPIENS, DECIDES TO USE A NUCLEAR WEAPON AGAINST ANOTHER NATION, ALL WATER COULD BECOME CONTAMINATED WITH CESIUM-137, STRONTIUM-90 OR IODINE-131

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NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO DRINK FROM THIS ENORMOUS AND BEAUTIFUL MASS OF WATER

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OR EAT FROM THIS RICE

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OR FROM THIS CORN

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THIS IS A MOMENT FOR SERIOUS REFLECTION.
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Critique to Human Estultitia

Manuel Lasso

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2010-07-28T16:08:00.012-05:00

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TEN MILLION DEGREES CENTIGRADE

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BERNARDO: Would it also be too hot?
ORESTES: If you call it hot. I do not know how to call it. The truth is that it would be the worst of hells because temperature could ascend up to ten million degrees centigrade.
BERNARDO: Ten million degrees centigrade? In the center of the explosion?
ORESTES: As you hear, my dear fellow... Where you would like to stand...
BERNARDO: That would be really too hot, wouldn't it?
ORESTES: Well, imagine yourself... If water boils at one hundred degrees. What would happen at ten million? We would vaporize and vanish, without leaving on the floor not even a dirty drop of ourselves.
BERNARDO: Do you believe, sir, that at the gates of Hell the temperature would also climb to that level?
ORESTES: Hell?... My dear fellow, you will have to address that question to Virgil or to Dante or to Farinata degli Uberti if you find them somewhere on the road. They might be too old by now. But it is also possible that if you watch them with your binoculars you could see them moving and walking among the flames with the same red headdress and the same bluish green tunics of those times.
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Taken from

Critique to Human Estultitia

Manuel Lasso

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2010-07-21T11:41:00.009-05:00

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WHY WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAND THERE?

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ORESTES: This explosion is quicker than an envious human thought. Infinitely faster than the moving fingers of a clever robber in front of a pocket full of money or of a smiling magician ready to do a trick on us. After the blinding detonation no one would realize that everything had disappeared because there would be nobody to confirm it. At one moment, life would continue as usual with their exceedingly delicious sexual urgency, their philosophical disjunctive and their consecutive dilemmas. On the next, in the middle of the smoke, the colossal explosion with its immense ball of fire would have relentlessly destroyed a great part of that city and would be advancing towards the periphery, as if galloping under the beat of the Overture of William Tell... If you are standing at the hypocenter of the explosion, you will blow up and disappear, together with half of that apothetical and transcendental city, in less than a hundredth of a second, leaving an immense area of black rubble with exposed high voltage wires, leaking gas ducts, fallen sharp objects and fires... So, why would you like to stand there?

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Taken from Critique to Human Estultitia

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by Manuel Lasso

2010-05-30T07:49:00.014-05:00

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CRITIQUE TO HUMAN ESTULTITIA
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by Manuel Lasso
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BERNARDO: Undoubtedly. But continuing with my questions. Would this explosion be the cause of a great number of deaths?

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ORESTES: The amount of dead people would be unimaginable. There would be an incalculable number of cadavers resting everywhere like in the times of the Black Death. Worse than that, the bodies of these victims would remain in different positions, on the collapsing roofs of the destroyed buildings and on the devastated public plazas; on their boats, at the shores of the rivers, with a fish moving among their hands, or still holding desperately from the ropes of the church bells. Others would be on the corridors of the demolished whorehouses with their eyes and mouths opened in astonishment while holding flasks filled with ancient oil. What is more, the bloodcurdling rider of the red horse, the one with the sunken white eyes, without dismounting, would roll over the inert bodies with his sword, sticking its sharp tip in their bellies, with mighty thrusts, to confirm that they were dead. There will be no one to entomb them and the carcasses will remain where they fell, for the contentment of the starving and jumping vultures and the voracious carrion dogs.
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A NUCLEAR EXPLOSION

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A DESTROYED CITY

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A SURVIVOR AT 48 KILOMETERS FROM THE HYPOCENTER OF THE EXPLOSION

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A CHILD VICTIM

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A WOUNDED WOMAN
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SO, WHY DO WE INSIST IN BUILDING UP MORE NUCLEAR WEAPONS?

ONE DAY, THE WARRIOR INSIDE US, THE HUNTER-KILLER WITHIN US, WILL ACHIEVE OUR TOTAL ANNIHILATION.
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BUT WE CAN STILL PREVENT IT.
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To see the entire text of . Critique to Human Estultitia . click here.

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2010-04-20T17:46:00.007-05:00

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THE NUCLEAR WINTER

Taken from "Critique to Human Estultitia"

by Manuel Lasso

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... Something that could not even be understood. The worst would be the nuclear winter which will follow soon afterwards.

BERNARDO: What is that?

ORESTES: I am delighted to hear that you ask this because, as I have explained before, if a nuclear winter is produced, all cinder and residues of the explosion will form a gigantic cloud around the planet. The sunlight will not be seen for an indefinite period of time and all plants and animals will die. It would be like a gruesome and macabre night of unknown duration with demons screaming and howling in the darkness. Besides, the massive radioactivity accumulated in that global cloud would fall over the earth and contaminate all food and water with cesium-137, strontium-90 and Iodine-131. There would be nothing to eat or drink, not even a little red hot pepper which was intended to be used in a Kung Pao Chicken. The horses of the Apocalipse will have no hay or water to consume either. They will remain neighing and snorting, waiting for everybody to expire before departing. In a short lapse the entire humanity will have ceased to exist with all its hatred and belicosities.

BERNARDO: Would the horsemen have anything to eat or drink?

ORESTES: Don't worry about them because they are biblical and do not eat or drink like us.

BERNARDO: But they drink beer and wine.

ORESTES: No, they don't. They drink blood and feed on rotting flesh.

BERNARDO: I understand. So, the entire humanity would become extinct?

ORESTES: As simple as that, sir.

2009-07-05T08:11:00.004-05:00

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A COMMENT BY DORIN POPA

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I think your attitude is beautiful.
God bless you, Manuel,
keep in touch, my friend,
with respect,
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Dorin

dpopa@uaic.ro

2009-07-02T12:56:00.003-05:00

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UN POEMA DE MAYNOR FREIRE DESDE LA CIUDAD DE LIMA

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Click on the image

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EL DERECHO DE VIVIR EN PAZ Y ARMONÍA
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Miles de años de guerras y opresión
pasan por la memoria de la humanidad
tras recordar al gran Imperio Persa.

Arios, árabes, turcos, mongoles anglosajones y rusos
hollaron sus legendarias tierras, tratando de llevar el oprobio
de sojuzgar a un sabio pueblo milenario

que supo enfrentar a los griegos con honor
durante las guerras Médicas
aunque también generaran a los sátrapas.

Hace treinta años nació la República Islámica de Irán
y arrojó a los nuevos sátrapas del petróleo
y el pueblo tornó a sonreir como en los viejos tiempos.

Hoy un rictus de desasosiego cruza los rostros
de los jóvenes hombres y mujeres
porque su Consejo de la Revolución

se ha contagiado de las satrapías
y solo quiere llenarse los bolsillos
y cerrar ojos y bocas segando las vidas

de quienes buscan las nuevas luces
que iluminen de fe el horizonte
de sus sojuzgadas vidas.

¡Revolución con libertad!, es el lema
de los iranies que están regando con su sangre
el derecho de vivir en armonía.

Maynor Freire

mafb@terra.com.pe

2009-07-01T18:38:00.004-05:00

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LA POESIA QUE MUESTRA DISCONFORMIDAD EN UN SITIO PUEDE RETUMBAR CON IGUAL BRIO EN OTROS LUGARES Y EN OTRAS DIMENSIONES.

POETRY THAT DISSENT CAN RESOUND WITH EQUAL FORCE IN OTHER PLACES AND OTHER DIMENSIONS.

LA POÉSIE QUI MONTRE SON DÉSACCORD PEUT RÉSONNER AVEC UNE DÉTERMINATION ÉGALE DANS D'AUTRES LIEUX ET DANS D'AUTRES DIMENSIONS.

Manuel Lasso

2009-07-01T18:23:00.005-05:00

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DESDE LA CIUDAD DE PANAMA

UN POEMA DE DAVID C. ROBINSON O.

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TU VELO

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Qué tu velo
No oculte una cara amoratada
Que no sirva para esconder el dolor
La humillación que sufres
Por preferir amar
Y dejar atrás el odio
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Qué tu velo
No sea la excusa para llamarte impura
Nada tienes que ocultar
Tu río no sólo es la espera de la vida
También la señal
De que eres algo más que un vientre
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Qué tu velo
No sea tu cárcel.

DAVID C. ROBINSON O.

davidclas72@hotmail.com

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2009-07-01T15:47:00.003-05:00

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DESDE EL HOMBRO DE LAS AMERICAS

BERTALICIA PERALTA

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Contra la ira
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Contra la ira de los justos
sólo la mirada dulce de las lenguas

en soliloquio como ríos de hermandad

con nuestra sangre
con nuestra sangre y la de
vosotros y vosotras
ahora suenan las aves y cantan
en estampida las luciérnagas.

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Bertalicia Peralta

(Panamá)
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2009-07-01T13:51:00.004-05:00

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DESDE EL MAR DEL PLATA

GABRIELA ABEAL

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Superviviente

Dame de beber la furia
de todos los continentes,
que mi fuego la combata
de norte a sur de este a oeste.
Dame las culpas
de cada sobreviviente,
haré guirnaldas con flores,
castillos de compasión
para los penitentes.
Dame la opresión,
la duda y el desconsuelo,
se expulsarán del mercado,
la ira, la imposición,
la tiranía y el miedo.
Dame la hostilidad,
el desamor y los celos,
que sembraré la confianza,
equilibrio al corazón,
en el espíritu el verbo.
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Apocalíptica
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“Me duele el mundo”
tanto como la carne,
como reflejarme en el cuerpo
que la lucha se le hizo invierno
y los brazos otoño.
Duele el presente,
más que los instantes anegados.
Duele el silencio,
las palabras vacías,
la lista de obsesiones,
el hambre,
la injusticia,
el hombre que ya no es hombre.
Duele hasta que se incineran los huesos
y lentamente se acorchan los pulmones.

María Gabriela Abeal Capital Federal 4 de Julio de 1969 (Reside en Mar del Plata)
Maestra de Reiki, Decoradora de Interiores, Técnica Ceramista y Poeta,
(expuso en el Museo Castagnino y fue integrante del equipo:
Mar del Plata Arte y Comunicación -Galería de Arte- lugar donde también exhibió su obra).
Hasta el 2005 muestra su poesía sólo a amigos y algunos familiares, luego con ayuda y consejos
de un escritor-periodista amigo (Vasco Baigorri) rompe esa especie de hermetismo
y comienza a participar en revistas literarias, de su Ciudad, nacionales e internacionales.
Es incluida en la Antología “Los 4 Elementos” en El Dorado Misiones-Argentina.
En marzo de 2007 recibe Mención de Honor en el Certamen Internacional de Cuento Breve y Poesía
“Homenaje a La Poetisa Rosalía de Castro, también Mención Especial
en el 1 Concurso Provincial de Cuento y Poesía “Ciudad de Chivilcoy”,
finalista en el Concurso Palabras al Viento.
Su primer libro (Cotidianos) fue publicado por Ediciones de la Revista ICAM, de Barinas, Venezuela,
país donde participó en la III Feria Internacional del libro de Caracas,
y en la Primera Muestra del Libro de la Frontera de San Cristóbal del Táchira.
Participación en la 34. ª Feria Internacional del Libro de Buenos Aires 2008.
Y próximamente en la 4ª Feria del Libro Mar del Plata "Puerto de lectura 2008"
Coordinadora General de Acto realizado el día 11 de Mayo de 2008
en el Club General Pueyrredón de Mar del Plata, evento realizado
para presentar por primera vez en Argentina al Escritor-Poeta y Editor Español, Fernando Luis Pérez Poza.
Su poesía comparte el evento “El Obelisco regala Poesía” el 4 de Mayo de 2008
en Buenos Aires en la voz de la Poeta Marisa Aragón Willner.
Publicación de textos inéditos en el proyecto de difusión literaria
en formato digital de Badosa.com (España).
Nuevamente incluida en la Antología "Ríos libres para pueblos libres"
en El Dorado-Misiones, en en 6º Encuentro de escritores El Dorado 2008.
Y la Antología que se presentó en Octubre de 2008 en la Ciudad de Chivilcoy
con los ganadores del concurso Cuantos y Poemas, Ciudad de Chivilcoy.
Para el 2009, Antología "Caminos Poéticos" con escritores Marplatenses.

M.G.A.

mgabi7@ciudad.com.ar

2009-06-30T11:41:00.008-05:00

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UNA PROTESTA DESDE LOS ANDES PERUANOS

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QUERIDO MANUEL LASSO.

Acá va un poema de mi autoría, protesta en contra del genocidio que esta ocurriendo en el Iran, por favor.
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BACANAL EN AUTOPSIA

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Esta mañanano tengo más ganas de morir

porque piedra del hielo frío quiero ser

Perfume atezado sin un DIOS mirándome.

Esta mañana…cada tristeza mía deja de existir

mi pálpito ha quebrado el ojo de su faz

mi último aliento es bolsa de jebe en autopsia.

Esta mañana…de panes mi garganta es amargura blanca

cuchara de hiel

Yel café me sabe amargo a poco o a nada.

Ahí van mis gentes y mis restos

sin conciencia

hartos de mi ausente nombre

y es que mis fauces

gritando en cadenas

no son más un llanto en huecas sonajas

Gotas gruesas van ahora

surcando la orilla de tu ágape

que a mi puerto no ancla más

y no le son ausentes

esta mañana mi búho

ha cantado una sonata

para mi partida sin retorno

porque soy lodo sin aliento en autopsia bacanal.

Del Libro: "Kantos de Ispingo",

Manoalzada Editores, Lima, Perú 2007

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GLORIA DAVILA ESPINOZA

Huanuco-Perú 1961.

Poeta, escritora, teatrista y promotora cultural.

Estudios: Lengua Literatura, Tecnología Educativa, Postgrado en Educación. Estudia Doctorado en Ciencias de la Educación. Políglota: alemán, ingles, portugués, y quechua. Premiada en varias ciudades y países. Fundadora y miembro de importantes organizaciones como: Fundación de Premios "Runa Simi', Perú-Alemania, REMES, Coordinadora General de Unión Hispanoamericana de Escritores UHE para América, Corresponsal de El Oro de los Tigres (Argentina) Corresponsal de la Revista Peruana de Literatura (Perú), Representante en Perú de Sociedad de Escritores de Latinoamérica y Europa, desde Milán –Italia, Consulesa de Poetas del Mundo, Huanuco Perú, desde Chile Representante de aBrace, Montevideo Uruguay, Vicesecretaria de la Asociación de escritores del orbe, con sede en España. Embajadora para Alemania de A.S.O.L.A.P.O Directivo de la Revista Internacional,"Olandina"- Perú Presidente de CAPPAZ, para Perú desde Brasil Corresponsal de la Página Cultural del Quincenario, Directora General de Relaciones Internacionales de CAPPAZ, para el mundo desde Brasil. Antologada en: Israel, Tunizia, Arabia, Estados Unidos, México, España, Uruguay, Brasil, El Salvador, Argentina, Chile y Perú. Sus libros: “Redobles de Kesh” y “Kantos de Ishpingo” se han presentado en Perú, Bolivia, Brasil, y Cuba y ha merecido grandes elogios por la que es invitada a escenarios congresos, recitales dentro y fuera del país Embajadora Universal de la Paz - Perú/Ginebra.
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Blog: www.lacoctelera.com/poesias-y-nirvanas

Contacto: gloriaschreiber@hotmail.com
Gloria Dávila Espinoza

2009-06-30T11:17:00.004-05:00

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DESDE

PARANA, ENTRE RIOS, ARGENTINA

MARTA L. PIMENTEL

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Creí que la Tierra
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Era para todos
Las semillas,
El sol en el cielo mudo.
Creí que se podía
Caminar descalzo por la vida
Silbar a los vientos,
Imitar a los pájaros
Volar por volar sobre la orilla
De los ríos. Y ser río de alegría
De verdad y vida.
Creí que podía mirar a mis iguales
Como hermanos por vivir
bajo los mismos planetas,
las mismas estrellas
y la misma luna
Las nubes creí iguales a las mías.
Creí demasiadas cosas distintas e iguales
Por plantarme ante la madre creación distinta
Ojala, dios esté dentro de todos nosotros,
Para escudo, por respecto,
¿O mataremos a dios todos los días?
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MARTA L. PIMENTEL
Paraná, Entre Ríos, Argentina

martapimentel@hotmail.com

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2009-06-30T10:08:00.005-05:00

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UNA PROTESTA DESDE BAYAHIBE, REPUBLICA DOMINICANA

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Trato de enviarte poema escrito de momento, en memoria de Agha:
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"Muñeca de la luz que ha sido rota"
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Una frágil muñeca de la luz ha sido rota
Ella iba inspirada en plena juventud
Caminando en las calles de Teherán
En justicia radiante y nada más
Iba pensando sólo en libertad, en ser libre y vivir,
Mientras una negra sombra le arrebató la vida.
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Una emplomada ciega borró su cuerpo de la tierra.
Del real y asfaltado camino que tragara su sangre
Y aquella vida frágil cayó con Alá entre sus pechos.
Murió en el Cáucaso de sus sueños briosos
Cantó a las perlas y a la plata
La muchacha que corrió a la guerra
Montada en los corceles del Irán
Libaba en flor los tiempos más hermosos
Cuando un río de sombras, de pronto,
Detuvo su reloj.
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Aldebarán quedó, en el pleno cielo congelada
Mirando atónita al que salva vidas,
Y quien para quitarla, reza,
Sin medir el remolino que a su paso lleva.
Ese que al propio tiempo justicia grita
Se va por el sendero del ocaso.
Con la justicia bajo el brazo, ni tonto, ni mordaz
Manos erróneas, Mañana la justicia se avergüenza,
Por una falacia mueren los inocentes.
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¿Es una Diosa, la que se ha ido? ¡Sí!
Así la hicieron estos tiempos llanos
Por la mujer y por la juventud que clama
Recorre el persa las calles encendido,
Llameado por lo inflexible de la flama
Se acuesta y espera la sentencia de los dioses:
Ni Zaratustra, ni Zoroastro fueron,
Ni Alá tampoco, culpables de la trama.
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Y a ella La llamarán por siempre,
Porque no ha muerto,
Por su nombre ¡Neda Agha Soltán!
Junto a todos los mártires del pueblo
Que ascienden por escarpado monte hacia a gloria
Y llenan de sangre nueva el corazón del tiempo.
Y allí, en la memoria inagotable de los dioses.
Y Siempre recordada, y siempre amada
Y eternamente sorprendida, sabras que:
¡No te fuisteis en vano!
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Cecilio Díaz
Junio/2009

cecilio2402@hotmail.com

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2009-06-29T14:30:00.002-05:00

DESDE ZARAGOZA, ARAGON

Palacio de la Aljafería

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Manuel: Creo que este poema se adapta a las necesidades del texto que me solicitas.
Ha sido publicado en el recientísimo último número de Cuadernos del Matemático.

¡Un abrazo!
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Antonio
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Escribo

Para Ángel Guinda

Escribo amigo
muy despacioy las letras se abren entre sí,

en un intento vano de abrazarte.

Escribo pan
rotundamentey una sílaba suena con fuerza

como un disparo inútil contra el hambre.

Escribo amor
como siemprey mi pulso se agita.

Pienso justicia
y se acaba la tinta.

Antonio Pérez Morte
aperezmorte@terra.es

2009-06-28T09:55:00.006-05:00

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GENOCIDAS DE TODOS LOS TIEMPOS:

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NO TOCAREIS A LAS MUJERES!

NO TOCAREIS A LOS ESTUDIANTES!

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GENOCIDES OF ALL TIMES:

YOU WILL NOT TOUCH THE WOMEN!

YOU WILL NOT TOUCH THE STUDENTS!

GÉNOCIDES DE TOUS LES TEMPS :
VOUS NE TOUCHEREZ PAS LES FEMMES!
VOUS NE TOUCHEREZ PAS LES ÉTUDIANTES!

Manuel Lasso

2009-06-15T10:56:00.003-05:00

KING RICHARD III

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BERNARDO: Then, what can we do, sir?

ORESTES: It is very simple... As King Richard III used to say: “Chop their heads and tails off!”

BERNARDO: Of course. It is obvious that without their tails they could not go anywhere. But besides that, what else can the nations do?

Taken from Critique of Human Estultitia

by Manuel Lasso

2009-06-08T15:02:00.020-05:00

DANTE

What will Dante and Virgilio think of the extraordinary amount of dead bodies caused by a nuclear counterattack inflicted on a dim witted leader who thought that following his own nuclear aggression his nation would remain unharmed?

¿Qué pensarían Dante y Virgilio acerca de la extraordinaria cantidad de muertos causada por un contraataque nuclear infligido en un líder que pensaba que tras su agresión nuclear su nación permanecería ilesa?

"...this should be a planet without nuclear weapons or it will not be. Therefore we have to give away our arsenals without exceptions. We have to chose between our existence and our non existence."

"... este debería de ser un planeta sin armas nucleares o no será. Por lo tanto, tenemos que deshacernos de nuestros arsenales sin excepción. Tenemos que escoger entre nuestra existencia o nuestra no existencia."

Tomado de

CRITIQUE OF HUMAN ESTULTITIA

by Manuel Lasso

You may be a child or you may be an adult; but what you can not permit to mislay is the greatness of soul.

Puedes ser una criatura o puedes ser un adulto; pero lo que no puedes permitir es perder la grandeza del alma.
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Vous pouvez être un enfant ou vous pouvez être un adulte; mais que vous ne pouvez pas permettre c'est de perdre la grandeur de l'âme.

Manuel Lasso
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LINA ZERON

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Septenario
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Cómo no amarlo esta noche de álgida tormenta.

No verlo es tortura eterna para el cuerpo y alma.

Hoy lo quiero conmigo como aquel cuadro de Matisse,c

omo aquellos maduros racimos de días lejanos.
Cómo no amarlo si sus besos son impecable poema,

cálida su risa de cálido verano en madrugada,caricias,

rumor de fuego latiendo en mi piel,

una copa de vino blanco sostenida por mis piernas.
Cómo no amarlo si hoy es sábado y está conmigo,

con ternura mis lágrimas seca con su lengua,

si traigo tres o cuatro nubes flotando en la cabeza

y me obsequia cientos de arco iris para iluminar la vida.

Cómo no amarlo este domingo de citas familiares

cuando se aventura en cuerda floja sobre el abismo

utilizando mi amor como alas para guardar el equilibrio

tomar el teléfono y en secreto escucho que me ama.
Cómo no amarlo este lunes cuando despierta el alba

con descomunales ecos de recuerdos compartidos,

ansiosa sangre hace girar corazones como aspas de molino

y la noche vestida de aromas palidece ante sus besos.
Cómo no amarlo este martes de malas noticias:

ataque terrorista contra inocentes niños,

civiles defensores acribillados en Oriente

una vieja amante abandonada en una casa en ruinas.
Cómo no amarlo este aburrido miércoles

cuando todo es posible si recibo una carta

con enormes palabras que serenen la angustia

y el silencio se derrite al escuchar su nombre.
Cómo no amarlo este jueves o aquel viernes

raíces del fin de semana que tanto espero

para darle sentido al calor de los cuerpos

y encontrar una fecha inexistente en el calendario
para decirle cuánto, cuánto lo amo.
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Por Lina Zerón

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Con cada día que pase no te olvides de retrasarlo un poco..

With each day that passes don't forget to set it back a little..

Manuel Lasso
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"La humanidad ha muerto. La están velando sobre una mesa..."

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CERTIFICADO DE DEFUNCION DE LA HUMANIDAD

por Manuel Lasso

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Nombre de la occisa: Humanidad.
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Otro nombre: Homo sapiens, sapiens, sapiens, sapiens, sapiens, sapiens, sapiens, sapiens, sapiens, sapiens, sapiens, sapiens, sapiens.

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Edad: 160,000 años.

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Lugar de nacimiento: El Africa, cerca de un arroyuelo.

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Nombre de antepasados: Homo erectus y Homo habilis. Homo ergaster

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Ocupación diaria de los antepasados: Apedreamiento recíproco, intencional y persistente por razones intrascendentes. Apareamiento constante.

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Lugar del fallecimiento: Superficie del planeta tierra.

¿Alguna vez en las Fuerzas Armadas?: Todo el tiempo. Obsesión de morir en el campo de batalla.
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Modo de muerte: Destrucción atómica mutua.
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Fecha de defunción: Reciente.

Nombre de los cementerios donde se llevarán a cabo los entierros: Ninguno. Sin importancia cósmica.

Causa de muerte directa: Explosión nuclear.
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Causa de muerte antecedente: Estulticia humana.
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Causa de muerte básica: Arrogancia, estupidez, idealismo, excesivo amor por la patria, necedad política, fundamentalismo religioso, megalomanía, necesidad de figuración, inmadurez emocional, delirio de grandeza.
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Nombre y firma del certificante: Dr. Ahura Mazda

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Dirección y teléfono del certificante: Galaxia Celestial, sin número.

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Nombre de los informantes: Los cuatro jinetes del Apocalipse.

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Condición presente de la humanidad: Especie extincta. Millones de esqueletos sobre la superficie del planeta contaminados con radioactividad. Material de estudio para los arqueólogos del resto del universo. Experimento fallido, sin trascendencia cósmica.

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LUCHEMOS JUNTOS PARA QUE ESTE CERTIFICADO NO SE EXTIENDA NUNCA...

2009-05-09T11:58:00.004-05:00

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CARTA A LA DIRECTORA DE CEMHAL
(Sara Beatriz Guardia)
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Que gusto recibir siempre noticias tuyas y de CEMHAL.
A Guillermo Schmidhuber lo conocí fugazmente durante una charla sobre dramaturgos de Latinoamérica que se celebró en la Universidad de Chicago ya hace cierto tiempo.
De Marianella Collette me interesa saber más acerca de su trabajo sobre las escritoras que abandonaron la Argentina durante el genocidio que ocurrió en la década del 70 y que aún no ha sido calificado apropiadamente.
Un genocidio no es simplemente una represión política.
Un genocidio es un conjunto interminable de homicidios y es muy triste saber que se produjo en la Argentina, en Chile y en el Paraguay y que haya permanecido impune.
Si en una noche unos criminales viniesen a cualquier suburbio civilizado y asesinaran a cinco mil o a diez mil personas sin ninguna razón, a la mañana siguiente nos quedaríamos boquiabiertos y por momentos no lo podríamos creer.
Eso es un genocidio: una acción extremadamente brutal, casi incomprensible y a veces difícil de ser aceptado por el consciente de la humanidad.
No permita Dios que estos actos tan salvajes se vuelvan a producir.
Tu obra ayuda a que la actitud crítica permanezca viva.
Esperando que sigas bien me despido con el mayor afecto

Manuel
http://manuellasso.blogspot.com/
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2009-03-18T12:46:00.011-05:00

CRITIQUE TO HUMAN ESTULTITIA:
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Dialogues in front of a nuclear explosion in the center of a great city

by Manuel Lasso

BERNARDO: What would happen, sir, if a nuclear missile explodes in the center of this great city?
ORESTES: It would be something extraordinarily frightening. From the distance it will be seen as an immense ball of red fire and black smoke rising swiftly and covering almost half of this ancient city.
BERNARDO: Half of this city?
ORESTES: As you sensorially perceive me and hear me. It would be a gigantic explosion which from the beginning would have instantaneously destroyed a large part of the city and would be advancing towards the periphery at an inconceivable speed.
BERNARDO: It would have to be observed from a considerable distance. ...
ORESTES: Yes, indeed. Due to its extraordinary destructive power it could only be seen from a remote place. Before it used to be observed from a very close location, mainly by some megalomaniac generals who would get drunk as much as they could and climb to a tribune. Staggering, with teary eyes, their chests full of medals, they would sing the national anthem looking at the elevation of the red smoky mushroom in the distance.
BERNARDO: To see exactly how it could be used...
ORESTES: Yes. To see if they could use it, seeking for glory, in the splendor of the battlefield, either during an attack on the enemy forces that seemed meek, feeble and easy to defeat or during the disorderly retreat of their own terrified troops when the artillery of the adversary turned out to be more lethal and destructive than expected. In reality, those generals could not comprehend that the only eye of the soul is understanding as Aristotle taught us and not the liquor drank at an inappropriate moment. Later on, it was found that these curious spectators, despite the medals hanging from their jackets, would become very ill with Acute Radiation Syndrome. From that moment the generals gallery remained empty. This is a weapon that would charmingly amuse a homicidal and vicious leader like Hitler, Caligula or Attila the Hun.
BERNARDO: Couldn't this be observed from the hypocenter of the explosion?
ORESTES: What did you say? To observe it from ground zero?... Bernardo, benedicite!... My dear fellow, you must hate yourself in an extraordinary way... Are you a martyr?
BERNARDO: No, sir. Why?
ORESTES: Because if you stand at the center of the detonation you will disappear... Why would you like to stand there?.. To say good-bye?... Or to say your last prayer?... The situation couldn't be so bad... Your sweety-thing couldn't be gone forever... She should be back soon... Please, calm down...
BERNARDO: I was just simply asking, sir.
ORESTES: So then, please, ask the right question. Otherwise you may give the wrong impression... It would be impossible to see it from the hypocenter of the explosion, simply because, as you can imagine, you would blow up and disappear immediately in a phenomenal mass of fire... Nothing would be left of you... The speed of that explosion would be a thousand times faster than the blink of an eye. Do you understand?
BERNARDO: Yes, yes; I understand.
ORESTES: This explosion is quicker than an envious human thought. Infinitely faster than the moving fingers of a clever robber in front of a pocket full of money or of a smiling magician ready to do a trick on us. After the blinding detonation no one would realize that everything had disappeared because there would be nobody to confirm it. At one moment, life would continue as usual with their exceedingly delicious sexual urgencies, their philosophical disjunctives and their consecutive dilemmas. On the next, in the middle of the smoke, the colossal explosion with its immense ball of fire would have relentlessly destroyed a great part of that city and would be advancing towards the periphery, as if galloping under the beat of the Overture of William Tell... Half of that apothetical and trascendental city, including its population, would have ill-fatedly disappeared in less than a hundredth of a second leaving an immense area of black rubble with exposed high voltage wires, leaking gas ducts, fallen sharp objects and fires while the brightly illuminated souls, will be ascending from everywhere, one after another, among the rising bluish smoke and the radioactive dust. I wish you could understand. I said, in less than a hundredth of a second... Hey, my dear fellow, wake up!... Well, I can not go against the designs of Heaven if you can not comprehend what I am saying...
BERNARDO: I understand. In less than a hundredth of a second... Of course, I understand... Extremely fast... Extraordinary sight... Would it also be too hot?
ORESTES: If you call it hot. I do not know how to call it. The truth is that it would be the worst of hell because temperature could ascend to ten million degrees centigrade.
BERNARDO: Ten million degrees centigrade? In the center of the explosion?
ORESTES: As you hear, my dear fellow... Where you would like to stand...
BERNARDO: That would be really too hot, wouldn't it?
ORESTES: Well, imagine yourself... If water boils at one hundred degrees. What would happen at ten million? We would vaporize and vanish, without leaving on the floor not even a dirty drop of ourselves.
BERNARDO: Do you believe, sir, that at the gates of Hell the temperature would also climb to that level?
ORESTES: Hell?... My dear fellow, you will have to address that question to Virgil or to Dante or to Farinata degli Uberti if you find them somewhere on the road. They might be too old by now. But it is also possible that if you watch them with your binoculars you could see them moving and walking among the blaze and flames with the same red headdress and the same bluish green tunics of those times.
BERNARDO: What would happen to everything that existed in the center of this ancient and fabulous city?
ORESTES: Everything will vanish instantly. By that I mean the sanctified temples with their big columns and designs, the bustling whorehouses full of contentious penny-pinchers and the museums with their uninterrupted erotic act performances. The same would happen to us. All dissatisfied dreams and ambitions, the implacable sexual desires that do not yield with anything, the indolence from which you perpetually suffer and all the envy and hatred that we humans have towards each other, would melt together with the bricks and iron in a mass of fire, blood and contaminated dust. This entire megalopolis will be left in ruins emiting an enormous amount of radioactivity as it happened when God destroyed Cahors and Gomorra. It is too shocking for the imagination to conceive this but it is the truth.
BERNARDO: I have never heard something like this.
ORESTES: I am awfully frightened even by talking about it because it seems like a horror movie, a fiction, an exaggeration. It challenges the concept of the analysis of experience in terms of subject and object. However, it is astonishingly real. Do you think that I am saying something unseemly, my dear fellow?
BERNARDO: Not at all, sir. By the contrary. Now, could you, please, tell me if the public knows about the consequences of these nuclear explosions.
ORESTES: People in general, unfortunately, does not know how this is. Everyone speaks and reads about nuclear explosions. They look at photographs and films; but they rather see an erotic spectacle, like when a couple, say Othello and Desdemona, are anxiously and impatiently making love over a bed in the svanaka position. Then and only then, the spectators applaud and scream full of ardor and desire. But when the subject is the consequence of a nuclear disaster I doubt if any public could be interested.
BERNARDO: What would happen at 16 kilometers away from the center of the explosion?
ORESTES: The hellish heat would vaporize all metals.
BERNARDO: Do you mean that a war tank, with its uniformed occupants, standing on the top of a hill would disappear like ghosts?
ORESTES: That is exactly what I mean. They will dematerialize as the specter of Banquo did during the feast of Macbeth. I am delighted to hear that your epistemological understanding increases by the second. It calls for a congratulation... Let me applaud a little... It is true, the glass will melt and pour over the ground like lava falling down from the Vesubius. If it falls over a face it will make a mascara. If it falls over an entire body it will make a radioactive cast for a bronze statue.
BERNARDO: As we see it in that painting by Dali?

ORESTES: You have said it. Clocks would melt and drip as if they were made of liquid wax. You will hear the dripping. Or they will hang from the trees and the electrical posts.
BERNARDO: So then, Dali had a prophetical vision.
ORESTES: It might have been intentional, coincidental or prophetical. Dali's art, like our subconscious world, can not yet be well understood. It has too many scary situations, furious ghosts and screaming demons that makes it impossible to watch. On the other hand, science does not have to exhaust its own field in order to produce the necessary nexus between its determinant contexts.
BERNARDO: Between what, sir?
ORESTES: Between its determinant contexts...
BERNARDO: Oh, yes, yes... Science.... Its determinant contexts, of course; but, what would happen at 27 kilometers from the center of the explosion?
ORESTES: You can imagine that at that moment the white smoky mushroom will continue ascending and forming crooked white volutes. The intense heat would burn everything including the houses, buildings and monuments. It will be worse than the fire of Rome or the inferno of the Library of Alexandria. Large enchanted forests will go into flames with all their owls, wolves, deers, unicorns, playful gnomes and dwarf-queens included.
BERNARDO: Nothing would remain intact?
ORESTES: Absolutely nothing. The carbonized birds will drop over the ashes like hot stones. Everything would be transformed into a bleak place covered by cinders and leafless little trees. Below those trees, in that metafinite cosmos, under the shadow of its branches, we will keep waiting for Godot, eating carrots or turnips and announcing with Estragon and Vladimir that there is still nothing to do over the ground covered by radioactive dust.
BERNARDO: It would seem like an authentic Apocalypse.
ORESTES: You are absolutely right, my dear fellow. Your are a genius!... Seven times a genius!... When the sacred seals open, from different places of the enormous wall of white smoke, the four terrifying horsemen of Apocalypse will emerge covered by a fine layer of radioactive soot. They will look like four emaciated cadavers with their faces powdered with exaggeration and their fine lips painted on red. For an instant they will look in all directions. Upon seeing us they will spur their horses and will gallop towards us, swinging their heavy swords over their heads desperately, screeching and vociferating cries of battle in Greek, like Magnum Aleksanders, raising radioactive dust and running at the beat of a grotesque and scratchy sound of bugles, violins, cellos and basses, in order to transform us, with their bloody weapons, into pieces of guts, hands and feet thrown all over the place. It would be a horrible nightmare...
BERNARDO: What would happen at 48 kilometers from the hypocenter of the explosion?
ORESTES: With such a potent heat anyone walking on the countryside, anxiously looking at the most attractive portions of the bodies of the three merry virgins, taking a bath in the flowing waters of the creek, would endure severe burns all over their bodies.
BERNARDO: What will happen at 89 kilometers from the explosion?
ORESTES: At that distance anyone who would turn their heads back, like Lot's wife, to glance at the bright light of the enormous explosion would suffer an instantaneous blindness that could not be healed even if Maimonides in person would come, with his white turban, to rub their eyes with the best of his magic and scented oils while scratching his gray beard and reading in loud voice from an old volume of Iphigenia in Aulis... Do you know who Maimonides was?
BERNARDO: Yes, of course. He was a great physician and writer from antiquity.
ORESTES: Well then, you could imagine what David Hume would have done in this case inspired by his sceptical empiricism.
BERNARDO: Hume would not have believed in a nuclear explosion until seeing one. He only gave credit to what he could see, hear, smell or touch... So with eagerness he would have stared at the mushroom of smoke and fire...
ORESTES: I am glad he lived in a different age. Anyway Kant helped him get on line.
BERNARDO: Undoubtedly. But continuing with my questions. Would this explosion be the cause of a great number of deaths?
ORESTES: The amount of dead people would be unimaginable. There would be an incalculable number of cadavers resting everywhere like in the times of the Black Death. Worse than that, the bodies of these victims would remain in different positions, on the collapsing roofs of the destroyed buildings and on the devastated public plazas; on their boats, at the shores of the rivers, with a fish moving among their hands, or still holding desperately from the ropes of the church bells. Others would be on the corridors of the demolished whorehouses with their eyes and mouths opened in astonishment while holding flasks filled with ancient oil. What is more, the bloodcurdling rider of the red horse, the one with the sunken white eyes, without dismounting, would roll over the inert bodies with his sword, sticking its sharp tip in their bellies with mighty thrusts, to confirm that they were dead. There will be no one to entomb them and the carcasses will remain where they fell, for the contentment of the starving and jumping vultures and the voracious and delighted carrion dogs.
BERNARDO: What would happen if the infuriated corpses would get up and walk around to scare the carrion dogs that were eating them?
ORESTES: There would be no one who would raise to stretch and walk. To all those who would dare to stand up, the emaciated rider of the black horse, the one causing famine, will hit them on the head with his balance, making a metallic sound and will knock them down to the ground. Then the carrion dogs, wagging their tails with great enthusiasm, will come close again to continue licking and chomping on their heads.
BERNARDO: I understand. And the generals?
ORESTES: Do you think, that in the middle of that orgasmic cataclysm, the generals would be warming their throats to sing the national anthem with their falsetto voices?
BERNARDO: No, no; of course not. I mean if they were dead.
ORESTES: If those genocide officers, responsible for the disappearance and assassination of innocent citizens, were present at that moment, they would also be eaten by the black vultures, starting by their eyes and their tongues.
BERNARDO: Like Greek heroes...
ORESTES: Possibly...
BERNARDO: Such a tragic scene... My father was also a soldier...
ORESTES: I am very sorry for you and your father, my dear fellow, believe me; but as I said, at that moment no one would envy anybody and there would be no one who could hate other humans.
BERNARDO: Would racial hatred end with nuclear destruction?
ORESTES: It is possible that with these extreme catastrophes the unexplainable detestation that some humans feel for others would end. My dear fellow, we are all equal and no one is superior to anybody, because we descend from the same fragile bow-legged African woman who instead of long hairs on her head had small multicolor serpents that enjoyed by swiftly jumping over each other to bite their own little poisonous muzzle chops and their shinny throats.
BERNARDO: And the dictatorships?
ORESTES: They will also disappear.
BERNARDO: And the torturers?
ORESTES: There would be no low rank torturer, no brainless homo sapiens, who could electroshock, out of infinite pleasure, the didymus of an innocent prisoner, whatever his political agenda might be, simply to confirm the ontological relationship between the whole and its parts or to verify that electricity could conduct equally and distributively between the total organ and their component cells.
BERNARDO: Excuse me, sir; but what is the didymus?
ORESTES: My dear fellow!... Don't you know?... Haven't you ever heard of the didymus of Hannibal's elephants? Or the didymus of Charles Maurice de Talleyrand which was rather very small indeed? Or the one of Victor Hugo which was senile and fibrous but still highly functional? For God's sake, this is utterly incredible!... You need to be hit on the head by the rider of the black horse... The didymus, my dear fellow, is the round and soft organ that exists below the existentialist epididymus.
BERNARDO: And what is the epididymus?
ORESTES: For that question you will have to consult with Being and nothingness by Jean-Paul Sartre and the Fifth Book of Vesalius's De humanis Corporis Fabrica. There you will find a good illustration of it and you will see it clearly. Don't tell me that you don't know what the didymus is. Because it is a very elemental concept. If it were not for the didymus or the gonad of the females with their beautiful primordial germ cells, neither the homo erectus nor the homo sapiens, could have existed... Or the bluish red paintings of the caves of Altamira... Or the carved images of the temples of Khajuraho. They were extremely indispensable in the evolution of our ancestors... The only thing we can not have access to is eternity, my dear fellow, eternity...
BERNARDO: Of course, of course... Eternity... I understand you... That is where Nero wanted to enter and remain forever... But, please, tell me, sir, would there be too many injured people after the explosion?
ORESTES: It will be an extraordinary sight. Countless numbers of wounded people, saintly or sinful, will lie on the outer area of the explosion. It would be horrifying because they would be piled up, on top of each other, like morsels in the market, even when they would not like to be in that position, moaning of pain and terror, calling for the benevolence and the mercy of the Almighty; but regretfully no one could come to help them because there would be no one to assist anybody, nor even the witches or the hob-goblins because they will also be among the dead. It would resemble the end of a cruel battle of Antiquity, with the four horsemen of the Apocalypse riding with their banners, between the victims, blowing their trumpets vigorously and announcing their victory in all directions.
BERNARDO: Would it be like in the paintings of Bruegel?
ORESTES: Something immensely more frightful. Honestly, I would not wish to be there.
BERNARDO: And the survivors?
ORESTES: Only those who were far enough from the explosion will survive; but sometimes I think it would be better not to survive.
BERNARDO: Why not?
ORESTES: Because those poor ones, would suffer terrible deformities. Grotesque bumps will emerge from the skulls of hoarders and spendthrifts. Burns and lethal illnesses will follow. Unexpectedly, third eyes will appear on their foreheads looking at the passing women and moving at their own will. Some survivors will suddenly grow seven heads from their necks and five tails from their rear end, moving each one at different speed and with different rhythm. We'll be surrounded by monsters. It would be a hecatomb, an abstract unity which could not return rationally to the world of the phenomenon. Something that could not even be understood. The worst would be the nuclear winter which will follow soon afterwards.
BERNARDO: What is that?
ORESTES: I am delighted to hear that you ask this because, as I have explained before, if a nuclear winter is produced, all cinder and residues of the explosion will form a gigantic cloud around the planet. The sunlight will not be seen for an indefinite period of time and all plants and animals will die. It would be like a gruesome and macabre night of unknown duration with demons screaming and howling in the darkness. Besides, the massive radioactivity accumulated in that global cloud would fall over the earth and contaminate all food and water with cesium-137, strontium-90 and Iodine-131. There would be nothing to eat or drink, not even a little red hot pepper which was intended to be used in a Kung Pao Chicken. The horses of the Apocalipse will have no hay or water to consume either. They will remain neighing and snorting, waiting for everybody to expire before departing. In a short lapse the entire humanity will have ceased to exist with all its hatred and belicosities.
BERNARDO: Would the horsemen have anything to eat or drink?
ORESTES: Don't worry about them because they are biblical and do not eat or drink like us.
BERNARDO: But they drink beer and wine.
ORESTES: No, they don't. They drink blood and feed on rotting flesh.
BERNARDO: I understand. So, the entire humanity would become extinct?
ORESTES: As simple as that, sir.
BERNARDO: Isn't it possible that a single homo sapiens could survive hidden somewhere, between the rocks?
ORESTES: I don't think so. No man can survive without the ardent love of his woman and viceverse, no woman can continue on living without her idolized male making love to her at all times. Nature made them inseparable. They just can not hold it for too long. Therefore, a scared homo sapiens, hiding behind the rocks, would die immediately screaming the name of his adored woman. His feeling of defeat and despair would be immense. All species have the potential to become extinct and this would be the end of the homo sapiens. In that way we would arrive to the last paragraph of our universal history without finding yet the best way to govern our political societies and without responding to all the questions that constantly perplex us.
BERNARDO: That is the most regrettable. Could the explosion of this city produce a nuclear winter?
ORESTES: One hundred megatons are enough to produce it.
BERNARDO: The explosion of this city was of twenty.
ORESTES: Yes, indeed. But every action provokes a reaction. If a pipsqueak and fanatical individual explodes a bomb somewhere, retaliations of more megatons will necessarily follow. I don't believe that there would be a nation that will not respond, unless it is full of dumb people or if the necessary weapons are non existent. If there is a nuclear exchange between several nations, above all if there is an insane leader, who would launch a strayed missile, as if it were a firecracker of a town fair, then more than one hundred megatons would accumulate quickly and the arrival of the nuclear winter would be over us.
BERNARDO: This is absurd. Do you really think that this could happen? I don't want to die...
ORESTES: Me either. But I can assure you that this will happen. Do not harbor any doubt. Sooner or later, at some point, this will occur. Unfortunately the only way we have to delay it is the peaceful one. We are very near absolute acosmism and nihilism...
BERNARDO: I humbly apologize, sir; but, what is acosmism?
ORESTES: Don't you know?... For God's sake!... Hey, someone call for the rider of the black horse, please!... What university did you attend, my dear fellow?
BERNARDO: None, sir. As you might remember I am a self educated theologian turned revolutionary.
ORESTES: How excellent!... How marvelous the human mind is!... Theologian turned revolutionary... Extraordinary!... But obviously, you need to go back and review your philosophy notes... A revolutionary who is not well prepared and who does not know his theory is an easy pray for his adversaries in the battlefield.
BERNARDO: Will there always be a revolutionary, sir?
ORESTES: Of course, there will always be a three headed revolutionary with an assault rifle in his hands ready to use it, whatever the times or the century may be, because the revolutionary spirit is part of the human nature, a portion of gray matter of the human encephalus. The political theory and the ideology will be different because they change with the passage of time, but there will always be a reason for the young revolutionary to take action against his or her own society. The revolutionaries are the undeniably enforcers of the thoughts of their times.
BERNARDO: What were you saying about the Holy Scriptures, sir?
ORESTES: I was saying that we are very near absolute acosmism and nihilism. What we do not know is the exact moment. The clocks are ticking and it is only a matter of time. Nuclear missiles are already set on their launching pads aiming at their assigned targets. There are martyrs who would have a great spiritual satisfaction in exploding them in person in the downtown area of any big city. All nations want to have their own atomic weapons to terrify and threaten their neighboring country. It is as if we would give loaded machine guns to a group of young people and ask them to shoot at each other to see what happens. Perhaps they would act with more common sense and refuse to do it. Children many times have a better judgment that adults.
BERNARDO: Isn't it the proper moment to accomplish a total and absolute nuclear disarmament?
ORESTES: It is. But no one wishes to disarm because nobody wants to lose the superiority they believe they have achieved with these weapons without thinking that they are harboring their own destruction. It is as if the great potencies would have obtained a marvelous toy which they would not like to lose. The reason is that the homo sapiens, despite his exceptional intelligence and his developed civilization, full of Euripideses, Einsteins and Newtons, that can inquire in the infinite dimensions of the universe or within the intimacies of the atom particles, is still a very primitive and immature animal as dim-witted as an earth worm... When total disarmament is the subject of discussion all world leaders pretend not to be the involved ones as if their nations could not be targeted for nuclear destruction. It is unbelievable how certain human brains could reason so fallaciously in such a dangerous moment. Epistemology sentences that their thoughts are untrue; however the fierce determination of a shortsighted head of state is the only condition needed to send the world into complete chaos and anihilation. Besides, there are insane and demential leaders, full of abhorrence for their enemies, who compulsively continue building reactors to produce plutonium, missile control centers and launching pads, without thinking that almost immediately after they strike their own cities will be completely anihilated and erased from the surface of the earth by massive and extraordinary retaliations. Most importantly, we have to consider that these deranged leaders, out of exquisite hatred, are the ones sending the missiles, but the noble and innocent civilians, women and children, are the ones suffering the horrible consequences of these tremendous nuclear explosions. Why should they allow this?
BERNARDO: Then, what can we do, sir?
ORESTES: It is very simple... As King Richard III used to say: “Chop their heads and tails off!”
BERNARDO: Of course. It is obvious that without their tails they could not go anywhere. But besides that, what else can the nations do?
ORESTES: What we can do is very well known. However we do not act because we are victims of our own estultitia. Our difficulty does not reside in not knowing what to do because we know what to do; but in not doing or not being able to do what we know we have to do. Near the end, I will mention something that is so evident. First, we have to self contain the loathing and detestation we have for our neighboring countries and use more maturity to peacefully resolve our international conflicts instead of recurring to our primitive tendencies of making war because of childish and insignificant reasons in the name of our patriotism and our affronted national honor. Secondly, this should be a planet without nuclear weapons or it will not be. Therefore we have t o give away our arsenals without exceptions. We have to chose between our existence or our non existence. Thirdly, we have to disuade, in any possible way, all fanatical attempts to build and use this type of weapons because there is no nuclear attack without colossal retaliation. The end will justify the means. And fear the retaliation, my dear fellow, as you fear the monsters that chase you during your horrible nightmares, because there is no nuclear attack without extraordinary and gigantic reciprocation. So then, curse the clunky hand that will detonate the first bomb, my dear fellow. By God, Bernardo, curse it!

2009-03-05T06:21:00.007-06:00

Tomado de
CRITICA A LA ESTULTICIA HUMANA
por Manuel Lasso

"Tras la explosión el intenso calor lo quemará todo..."

ORESTES:.. Large enchanted forests will go into flames with all their owls, wolves, deers, playful gnomes and dwarf-queens included...

ORESTES:... Los bosques encantados se incendiarán junto con sus lechuzas, sus lobos, sus venados, sus gnomos traviesos y sus hadas madrinas...

2009-02-28T06:05:00.004-06:00

From CRITIQUE TO HUMAN ESTULTITIA

by Manuel Lasso

BERNARDO: Nothing would remain intact?

ORESTES: Absolutely nothing. The carbonized birds will drop over the ashes like hot stones. Everything would be transformed into a desolate place covered by cinders and leafless little trees. Below those trees, in that metafinite cosmos, under the shadow of its branches, we will keep waiting for Godot, eating carrots and announcing with Estragon that there is still nothing to do.

BERNARDO: ¿No permanecerá nada intacto?

ORESTES: Absolutamente nada. Los pájaros carbonizados caerán como piedras calientes. Todo se transformará en un lugar desolado cubierto por cenizas y árboles deshojados. Debajo de estos, en ese cosmos metafinito, bajo la sombra de sus ramas, seguiremos esperando a Godot, comiendo zanahorias y anunciando con Estragón que todavía no hay nada que hacer.

CRITIQUE TO HUMAN ESTULTITIA

2009-02-02T10:16:00.007-06:00

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CRITICA A LA ESTULTICIA HUMANA

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The four horsemen of Apocalipse.

"To the dead ones who dare to stand up, the horseman of the black horse, the one causing famine, will hit them in the head with his balance and will knock them down..."
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"A todos los muertos que se atrevan a levantarse el jinete del caballo negro, el que traerá la hambruna, los golpeará en la cabeza con su balanza y los derribará..."
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Tomado de

CRITICA A LA ESTULTICIA HUMANA

por Manuel Lasso

2009-02-02T09:37:00.020-06:00

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MASA

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Al fin de la batalla,
y muerto el combatiente, vino hacia él un hombre
y le dijo: “¡No mueras, te amo tanto!”
Pero el cadáver ¡ay! siguió muriendo.
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Se le acercaron dos y repitiéronle:
“¡No nos dejes! ¡Valor! ¡Vuelve a la vida!”
Pero el cadáver ¡ay! siguió muriendo.

Acudieron a él veinte, cien, mil, quinientos mil,
clamando: “¡Tanto amor y no poder nada contra la muerte!”
Pero el cadáver ¡ay! siguió muriendo.

Le rodearon millones de individuos,
con un ruego común: “¡Quédate hermano!”
Pero el cadáver ¡ay! siguió muriendo.

Entonces, todos los hombres de la tierra
le rodearon; les vio el cadáver triste, emocionado;
incorporóse lentamente,
abrazó al primer hombre; echóse a andar…

César Vallejo
10 de noviembre de 1937
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MASA: UNA ESCENA DE LA GUERRA CIVIL ESPAÑOLA
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..........Los momentos espantosos de la guerra civil española, con sus innumerables demostraciones de heroísmo e idealismo, produjeron marcas imborrables en los intelectuales de la época. Son conocidas las atestiguaciones de Octavio Paz en El laberinto de la soledad y los testimonios llenos de nostalgia de Pablo Neruda en España en el corazón.

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..........César Vallejo también se conmovió con la violencia de la contienda. Tras asistir en Madrid al Segundo congreso internacional de escritores para la defensa de la cultura viajó al frente de batalla donde presenció personalmente los horrores de la guerra. Tal vez en algún momento deseó quedarse, con un fusil y un revólver lavado en las manos, para pelear junto con los otros voluntarios de la República.

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..........Pero como afirmaba Miguel Hernández, mientras que algunos tenían que morir con el mentón firme y la cabeza bien en alto, otros tenían que cantar los hechos por encima de los fusiles. Entonces Vallejo regresó a Francia para sentir el calor diario de la amada debajo de las cobijas y para redactar, con todo lo visto y oído, el poemario titulado España, aparta de mí este cáliz.

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..........Esta fotografía de un miliciano herido, que ya dobla las piernas y suelta el fusil, fue la más difundida de todos esos tiempos. En ella se ve caer al combatiente Federico Borrell García, de Alcoy, luego de ser alcanzado mortalmente por una bala franquista en la batalla del cerro Muriano durante el último empeño republicano de recapturar la ciudad de Córdoba.
Fue tomada por el fotógrafo húngaro Robert Capa, con una cámara Laika de 35 milímetros y apareció publicada en la revista Vu de París el 23 de septiembre de 1936, convirtiéndose innegablemente en la imagen más renombrada de todo el conflicto.

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..........Al año siguiente, el autor de Piedra negra sobre una piedra blanca concluyó su composición más surrealista y universal, el poema Masa; y le puso la fecha del 10 de noviembre de 1937. Es posible que haya sido concebido casi al final de la obra, luego de varios intentos; inclusive el poema que lo antecede parece ser un borrador de lo que viene. Sin embargo no pudo verlo publicado porque falleció poco después, el 15 de abril de 1938, aniquilado por una fiebre maligna de origen incierto que nadie pudo entender.

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..........Fue como si la formidable Muerte que Vallejo describiera caminando por los cementerios bombardeados y por los campos de batalla de España, con su cognac, su pómulo moral, sus pasos de acordeón y su palabrota, hubiese venido a buscarlo hasta su habitación parisina para llevárselo al Montparnasse aunque lo hubiese tenido que hacer en contra de su propia voluntad.

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..........Hoy, 10 de noviembre, meditamos por unos momentos para recordar la mañana en que en una antigua máquina de escribir César Vallejo dio forma final a este poema. Y aunque fuimos los únicos, nos alejamos caminando detrás del combatiente que se acababa de incorporar lentamente y que se había echado a andar...
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Manuel Lasso
10 de noviembre del 2002
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A POEM FROM WEST TRIPURA, INDIA

2009-01-25T05:03:00.007-06:00

BHASKAR ROY BARMAN

TWO LOVERS

Once on an evening in a desolate place
far from the madding crowd’s eternal strife

I stood closeted with the eve-beauty manifested

around the place, exposing myself to the eerie and

stifling air and trying to attune my ears to the

bacchanalian fits of silence dancing in moonlight.

My eyes darted over to a pond as big as a lake,

then bumped into a teenaged girl beckoning at a

figure of a boy bathing in a profusion of

moonlight at a little distance .

The scene had me remember myself sitting at a

table in a crowded restaurant and a girl the age

of the girl yonder near the pond treading

unescorted her way through the drunken fits of

many a drunkard ogling at her beauty over to

a handsome boy sitting at a table

near mine and smiling an intimate smile.

She was fearless of the drunkenness of the

drunkards and the way they are ogling her,

as was the girl yonder near the pond

of the silence and desolateness of the place.

BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

Dr Bhaskar Roy Barman is an internationally published poet, short-story writer, novelist, critic, editor, translator and book-reviewer. He has received many national and international awards from the International Biographical Centre, Cambridge, England, the American Biographical Institute, USA, Friendship Forum of India, New Delhi, Gemini Academy, Panipat, India, International Penguin Publishing House, New Delhi, United Writers Association, Chennai, India, the Home of Letters (India), Bhubaneshwar, and been listed in more than forty national and international biographical reference works ,published by the sahitya Akademi, New Delhi, the International Biographical centre, Cambridge, American Biopgraphical Institute, USA, Rifacimento International, New Delhi. FI Publication, New Delhi, and South-Asia Pub.Co., New Delhi. Gemini Academy, Panipat, India has conferred upon him Tripura Ratna (the Gem of Tripura) and Bhasha Ratna (the Gem of Language)
Dr Barman has authored as many as eight books including an original short story collection entitled ‘Modern Short Stories: The Trap and Other Stories’ and am original English novel entitled ‘Gateway to Heaven’. He has edited an international anthology, ‘El Dorado: An Anthology on World Literature’ featuring comprehensive and research-oriented papers contributed by eminent scholars from around the world on different aspects of world literature. This world anthology has been published by Authors Press, New Delhi, India..He has also compiled, edited and, in some cases, translated into English a selection of folktales of Northeast India and this folktale collection has been published by GNOSIS, an imprint of Authors Press, New Delhi. He has on hand a good many critical books to write and edit.. Besides, his many critical articles have appeared in as many national and international literary anthologies. He presented papers at many national and international seminars.
He has fathered an international literary organization called “World Literature Society’ formed worldwide. Many international organizations have recognized it.

2009-01-24T12:50:00.007-06:00

FROM BEAUTIFUL NORWAY

The Royal Norwegian Embassy in Ankara

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Norwegian Press release, published 08.01.2009
No.: 002/2009
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Norway calls for the protection of humanitarian assistance and aid workers in Gaza
There have been alarming reports from Gaza of ambulances and convoys carrying humanitarian relief supplies being impeded, and personnel from humanitarian organisations being killed as a result of the fighting. Several organisations have chosen to suspend their efforts in Gaza because the risk involved is too great.
“I deeply deplore the violence against humanitarian aid workers and humanitarian transport in Gaza,” said Foreign Minister Jonas Gahr Støre. “These incidents are tragic for those directly affected and make it even more difficult to reach people with the help they so sorely need and are entitled to.”
The Foreign Minister recently raised these issues in the UN Security Council.
“The parties have a clear responsibility under international law to protect civilians and facilitate the provision of humanitarian and medical assistance. I expressed this most recently to the Israeli Government this evening,” said Mr Støre.

Norwegian Press release, published 03.01.2009
No.: 001/09

Israel must withdraw its troops from Gaza

“The Israeli ground offensive in Gaza constitutes a dramatic escalation of the conflict. Norway strongly condemns any form of warfare that causes severe civilian suffering, and calls on Israel to withdraw its forces immediately,” Foreign Minister Jonas Gahr Støre said.
“The protracted bombing of the densely populated Gaza Strip, now followed by a full military ground operation, is hitting a civilian population that is unable to defend itself and unable to flee. Gaza is the world’s most densely populated area, and the effects of a ground invasion on a long-suffering civilian population that has endured a strict closure regime for many years, and now many days of military attacks, will be extremely grave,” Mr Støre added.
“Hamas, for its part, must stop its rocket attacks against Israel immediately. The war that is now unfolding has a single victim: the civilian population on both sides,” the Foreign Minister said.
“There is no military solution to this conflict. Pressure must be put on the parties to enter into a new ceasefire. The Security Council and regional actors must unite behind an unambiguous call to halt the military hostilities and a plan for achieving lasting peace,” Mr Støre said.

Norwegian Press release, published 30.12.2008
No.: 131/08
Norway provides humanitarian relief to Gaza

The Government decided today to provide NOK 30 million in immediate humanitarian relief in connection with the assaults in Gaza. “We are extremely concerned about the precarious humanitarian situation in Gaza,” said Foreign Minister Jonas Gahr Støre.Many innocent civilians are suffering as a result of the violence in Gaza. The ForeignMinister pointed out how crucial it is to ensure that humanitarian assistance reachesthose who need it in Gaza.
“We presume that Israel will provide the necessary access for humanitarian aid. There is an acute need for medical and surgical equipment at the hospitals in Gaza.
We join in a broad international appeal to Israel to help to ensure that humanitarian relief supplies reach those in need,” said Mr Støre.
The Ministry of Foreign Affairs is now allocating funds to several humanitarianorganisations providing emergency medical aid and assistance to the wounded andinjured in Gaza, and is giving priority to those that are able to ensure the rapid andeffective delivery of emergency relief. The funds are being channelled primarilythrough the World Health Organisation (WHO), the UN Relief and Works Agency forPalestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA), the International Red Cross (ICRC) and the Norwegian Aid Committee (NORWAC).
“Norway is following the situation closely and we are ready to provide additionalhumanitarian funds,” said the Foreign Minister.
During the past few days the Foreign Minister has been in contact with several of hiscolleagues in the region, with the Palestinian Authority, and with the French EUPresidency.
“I have conveyed Norway’s view that the fighting must stop, a new ceasefire must be put in place, and border crossings must be opened to provide access for humanitarian relief supplies,” said Mr Støre. “Norway is working for and supporting diplomatic initiatives designed for this purpose, such as the efforts being made by Egypt and initiatives taken by the EU.”

E-mail: Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Phone: 22 24 36 00 Fax: 22 24 95 80/81
Address: 7. juni-plassen/ Victoria Terrasse. PB 8114 Dep. N-0032 Oslo

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AGRADECIMIENTO

2009-01-20T20:34:00.006-06:00

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Irrevocablemente toda guerra llega a su fin.
Antes de retirarnos tenemos que agradecer a todos los poetas, escritores y artistas, quienes en el momento de más peligro, escucharon nuestro llamado y decidieron unirse a esta convocatoria por la paz, con sus palabras y sus versos, expresando indignación por la existencia de una guerra insana.
Sin ustedes este llamamiento no habría sido posible.
Como resultado, ahora sabemos que existimos y que estamos unidos. Aunque tal vez nunca podremos explicar la razón por la que lo hicimos ya que actuamos indeliberadamente, casi sin pensarlo, como si hubiésemos estado obedeciendo a una advertencia de Dios o como si hubiésemos estado poseídos por una invocación del subconsciente colectivo de la humanidad.
Debemos de expresar nuestra gratitud a las Naciones Unidas por haber hecho posible que se llegue a un acuerdo lo más tempranamente posible y a los miembros del Pen Club Internacional por sus palabras de aliento.
Las guerras continuarán y será imposible contenerlas. Pero cuando ocurran volveremos a emerger, incansablemente, para insistir en la conclusion del conflicto hasta que perezcamos o hasta que se logre el alto al fuego.

Luchadores por la paz: ¡Gracias!

Manuel Lasso

Unavoidably all wars come to an end.
But before we withdraw from the field we would like to express our thanks to all poets, writers and artists, who during the most dangerous moment, listened to our call and decided to join this convocation for peace, with words and verses, expressing indignation for a fratricide and insane war.
Without you this invocation would not have been possible.
Now we know that we exist and that we are united, although perhaps we might never be able to explain why we did it, since we acted unexpectedly, almost without thinking, as if we were obeying a warning from God or as if we were possessed by the call of the collective subconscious of humanity.
Likewise we would like to express our sincere thanks to the United Nations for doing all efforts leading to the termination of the fight and to the members of the Pen Club International for their support.
We leave now temporarily; but if any conflict arises, as it probably will, we shall emerge to insist, indefatigably, on the conclusion of the struggle.

Peace fighters: Thank you!

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2009-01-18T21:36:00.003-06:00

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El odio nunca curó al odio. Es el amor el que lo alivia; el gesto noble, la mano amiga...
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Hatred never healed hatred. It is love which heals it; the noble gesture, the friendly hand...
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La haine jamais soigne la haine. C'est l'amour que l'allège; ainsi que la grimace noble, la main amie...
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Manuel Lasso

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