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1---Vuela Marissa, vuela---
--- en un vagón amarillo---
--- vuela para esconderse---
--- en la oscuridad.---
2---"¡ Deprissa, deprissa,---
---(apremia Marissa),---
--- que el hombre ese amable
--- se ha "acabao" de bajar!"---
3---Porque habíale visto---
--- con sus gafas tan lindas
--- una sonrisa al pobre---
--- y se vino a asustar.---
4---¿Creyó acaso Marissa---
--- tener ante sí un lobo---
--- que, guapo, cortés y fiable---
--- la quería devorar?---
5---Nunca se sabrá,---
--- porque ¡deprissa, deprissa!---
--- ya huía Marissa;---
--- para perderse la Vida (de nuevo)---
--- entre las tripas negras---
--- de la Ciudad.---
JLP, Madrid, domingo 25 julio de 2010
I got printed the cold light of a March morning in the high land of Castile. Here is a proper way for an artist to say that he was born in a village. Spain, province of Soria; have you ever heard of this ?.
I lived there for a few years. Then, followoging life´s whimsical will I finally landed in Madrid. In this city have I my present and, hopefully, definitive abode.
As an artist I haven´t gone through any particular, or academical learning. I mean, to the point to get...
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