jueves, 23 de mayo de 2013

Painter: Toulouse-Lautrec Henri de - Part 8 - 13 paints pinturas - Links to other parts



Imprime, to be colored - Print, para ser coloreado.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec - At the Moulin Rouge, Two Women Waltzing

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec - Henri Dihau

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec - Indian Decor

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec - Jane Avril 1

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec - Jane Avril 2

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec - Jane Avril Dancing

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec - Jane Avril Entering the Moulin Rouge

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec - Jane Avril Leaving the Moulin Rouge

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec - Jane Avril Seen from the Back

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec - Jeanne Wenz 1

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec - Jeanne Wenz 2

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec - Madame Palmyre with Her Dog, 1897





Painter: Toulouse-Lautrec Henri de - Part 8 - 13 paints pinturas - Links to other parts






Ricardo Marcenaro
Sculptures – Esculturas
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My blogs are an open house to all cultures, religions and countries. Be a follower if you like it, with this action you are building a new culture of tolerance, open mind and heart for peace, love and human respect.

Thanks :)

Mis blogs son una casa abierta a todas las culturas, religiones y países. Se un seguidor si quieres, con esta acción usted está construyendo una nueva cultura de la tolerancia, la mente y el corazón abiertos para la paz, el amor y el respeto humano.

Gracias :)










Gedicht: Peter Huchel - Die Engel - Die Bauern überliefern - Links



 Die Engel

Ein Rauch,
ein Schatten steht auf,
geht durch das Zimmer,
wo eine Greisin,
den Gänseflügel
in schwacher Hand,
den Sims des Ofens fegt.
Ein Feuer brennt.
Gedenke meiner,
flüstert der Staub.

Novembernebel, Regen, Regen
und Katzenschlaf.
Der Himmel schwarz
und schlammig über dem Fluß.
Aus klaffender Leere fließt die Zeit,
fließt über die Flossen
und Kiemen der Fische
und über die eisigen Augen
der Engel,
die niederfahren hinter der dünnen Dämmerung,
mit rußigen Schwingen zu den Töchtern Kains.

Ein Rauch,
ein Schatten steht auf,
geht durch das Zimmer.
Ein Feuer brennt.
Gedenke meiner,
flüstert der Staub.

Peter Huchel (1903-1981)


 Die Bauern überliefern

Die alten Bauern sagen, daß am Binsenbruch
sie eines Tages des Büdners junge Magd gefunden,
die hing, den Rock kreuzweis mit Bast
eng unter den Knien zusammengebunden,
erwürgt am langen Schultertuch,
wippend am niedern Nußbaumast.

Die alten Bauern sagen, daß seit jenem Tag
kein Pferd das Laub des Nußbaums fressen mag,
und daß das Vieh, wenn es im Umkreis weidet,
den giftigen Schatten dieses Nußbaums meidet.

Die Bauern überliefern, daß sommers in dem Tal
die grünen Raupen fressen die grünen Bäume kahl.

Peter Huchel (1903-1981)




Gedicht: Peter Huchel -  Die Engel - Die Bauern überliefern - Links 





Ricardo Marcenaro
Sculptures – Esculturas
http://ricardomarcenaro.ning.com/

Ricardo M Marcenaro - Facebook

Blogs in operation of The Solitary Dog:

Solitary Dog Sculptor:
http://byricardomarcenaro.blogspot.com

Solitary Dog Sculptor I:
http://byricardomarcenaroi.blogspot.com

Para:
comunicarse conmigo,
enviar materiales para publicar,
propuestas comerciales:
marcenaroescultor@gmail.com

For:
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submit materials for publication,
commercial proposals:
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Diario La Nación
Argentina
Cuenta Comentarista en el Foro:
Capiscum

My blogs are an open house to all cultures, religions and countries. Be a follower if you like it, with this action you are building a new culture of tolerance, open mind and heart for peace, love and human respect.

Thanks :)

Mis blogs son una casa abierta a todas las culturas, religiones y países. Se un seguidor si quieres, con esta acción usted está construyendo una nueva cultura de la tolerancia, la mente y el corazón abiertos para la paz, el amor y el respeto humano.

Gracias :)










Poetry: William Wordsworth - Lines - The dungeon - Links to more poetry by W.W. in English y Español



LINES

Written at a small distance from my House, and sent by
my little boy to the person to whom they are addressed.

It is the first mild day of March:
Each minute sweeter than before,
The red−breast sings from the tall larch
That stands beside our door.

There is a blessing in the air,
Which seems a sense of joy to yield
To the bare trees, and mountains bare,
And grass in the green field.

My Sister! ('tis a wish of mine)
Now that our morning meal is done,
Make haste, your morning task resign;
Come forth and feel the sun.

Edward will come with you, and pray,
Put on with speed your woodland dress,
And bring no book, for this one day
We'll give to idleness.

No joyless forms shall regulate
Our living Calendar:
We from to−day, my friend, will date
The opening of the year.

Love, now an universal birth,
From heart to heart is stealing,
From earth to man, from man to earth,
—It is the hour of feeling.

One moment now may give us more
Than fifty years of reason;
Our minds shall drink at every pore
The spirit of the season.

Some silent laws our hearts may make,
Which they shall long obey;
We for the year to come may take
Our temper from to−day.

And from the blessed power that rolls
About, below, above;
We'll frame the measure of our souls,
They shall be tuned to love.

Then come, my sister I come, I pray,
With speed put on your woodland dress,
And bring no book; for this one day
We'll give to idleness.


THE DUNGEON.

And this place our forefathers made for man!
This is the process of our love and wisdom
To each poor brother who offends against us—
Most innocent, perhaps—and what if guilty?
Is this the only cure? Merciful God!
Each pore and natural outlet shrivell'd up
By ignorance and parching poverty,
His energies roll back upon his heart,
And stagnate and corrupt; till changed to poison,
They break out on him, like a loathsome plague spot.
Then we call in our pamper'd mountebanks—
And this is their best cure! uncomforted.

And friendless solitude, groaning and tears.
And savage faces, at the clanking hour,
Seen through the steams and vapour of his dungeon,
By the lamp's dismal twilight! So he lies
Circled with evil, till his very soul
Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deformed
By sights of ever more deformity!

With other ministrations thou, O nature!'
Healest thy wandering and distempered child:
Thou pourest on him thy soft influences.
Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sheets,
Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters,
Till he relent, and can no more endure
To be a jarring and a dissonant thing,
Amid this general dance and minstrelsy;
But, bursting into tears, wins back his way,
His angry spirit healed and harmonized
By the benignant touch of love and beauty.



Poetry: William Wordsworth - Lines - The dungeon - Links to more poetry by W.W. in English y Español






Ricardo Marcenaro
Sculptures – Esculturas
http://ricardomarcenaro.ning.com/

Ricardo M Marcenaro - Facebook

Blogs in operation of The Solitary Dog:

Solitary Dog Sculptor:
http://byricardomarcenaro.blogspot.com

Solitary Dog Sculptor I:
http://byricardomarcenaroi.blogspot.com

Para:
comunicarse conmigo,
enviar materiales para publicar,
propuestas comerciales:
marcenaroescultor@gmail.com

For:
contact me,
submit materials for publication,
commercial proposals:
marcenaroescultor@gmail.com

Diario La Nación
Argentina
Cuenta Comentarista en el Foro:
Capiscum

My blogs are an open house to all cultures, religions and countries. Be a follower if you like it, with this action you are building a new culture of tolerance, open mind and heart for peace, love and human respect.

Thanks :)

Mis blogs son una casa abierta a todas las culturas, religiones y países. Se un seguidor si quieres, con esta acción usted está construyendo una nueva cultura de la tolerancia, la mente y el corazón abiertos para la paz, el amor y el respeto humano.

Gracias :)