martes, 19 de noviembre de 2013

Poesia: Leopoldo Lugones - Delectación amorosa - Divagación lunar - El astro propicio - El canto de la angustia - Links




Delectación amorosa

La tarde, con ligera pincelada
que iluminó la paz de nuestro asilo,
apuntó en su matiz crisoberilo
una sutil decoración morada.
Surgió enorme la luna en la enramada;
las hojas agravaban su sigilo,
y una araña, en la punta de su hilo,
tejía sobre el astro, hipnotizada.
Poblose de murciélagos el combo
cielo, a manera de chinoso biombo.
Tus rodillas exangües sobre el plinto
manifestaban la delicia inerte,
y a nuestros pies un río de jacinto
corría sin rumor hacia la muerte.



Divagación lunar

Si tengo la fortuna
De que con tu alma mi dolor se integre,
Te diré entre melancólico y alegre
Las singulares cosas de la luna.
Mientras el menguante exiguo
A cuyo noble encanto ayer amaste
Aumenta su desgaste
De cequín antiguo,
Quiero mezclar a tu champaña,
Como un buen astrónomo teórico,
Su luz, en sensación extraña
De jarabe hidroclórico.
Y cuando te envenene
La pálida mixtura,
Como a cualquier romántica Eloísa o Irene,
Tu espíritu de amable criatura
Buscará una secreta higiene
En la pureza de mi desventura.

Amarilla y flacucha,
La luna cruza el azul pleno,
Como una trucha
Por un estanque sereno.
Y su luz ligera,
Indefiniendo asaz tristes arcanos,
Pone una mortuoria traslucidez de cera
En la gemela nieve de tus manos.

Cuando aún no estaba la luna, y afuera
Como un corazón poético y sombrío
Palpitaba el cielo de primavera,
La noche, sin ti, no era
Más que un oscuro frío.
Perdida toda forma, entre tanta
Obscuridad, era sólo un aroma;
y el arrullo amoroso ponía en tu garganta
Una ronca dulzura de paloma.
En una puerilidad de tactos quedos,
La mirada perdida en una estrella,
Me extravié en el roce de tus dedos.

Tu virtud fulminaba como una centella...
Mas el conjuro de los ruegos vanos
Te llevó al lance dulcemente inicuo,
Y el coraje se te fue por las manos
Como un poco de agua por un mármol oblicuo.

La luna fraternal, con su secreta
Intimidad de encanto femenino,
Al definirte hermosa te ha vuelto coqueta,
Sutiliza tus maneras un complicado tino;
En la lunar presencia,
No hay ya ósculo que el labio al labio suelde;
Y sólo tu seno de audaz incipiencia,
Con generosidad rebelde,
Continúa el ritmo de la dulce violencia.

Entre un recuerdo de Suiza
Y la anécdota de un oportuno primo,
Tu crueldad virginal se sutiliza;
Y con sumisión postiza
Te acurrucas en pérfido mimo,
Como un gato que se hace una bola
En la cabal redondez de su cola.
Es tu ilusión suprema
De joven soñadora,
Ser la joven mora
De un antiguo poema.
La joven cautiva que llora
Llena de luna, de amor y de sistema.

La luna enemiga
Que te sugiere tanta mala cosa,
Y de mi brazo cordial te desliga,
Pone un detalle trágico en tu intriga
De pequeño mamífero rosa.
Mas, al amoroso reclamo
De la tentación, en tu jardín alerta,
Tu grácil juventud despierta
Golosa de caricia y de «Yoteamo».
En el albaricoque
Un tanto marchito de tu mejilla,
Pone el amor un leve toque
De carmín, como una lucecilla.
Lucecilla que a medias con la luna
Th rostro excava en escultura inerte,
y con sugestión oportuna
De pronto nos advierte
No sé qué próximo estrago,
Como el rizo anacrónico de un lago
Anuncia a veces el soplo de la muerte.



El astro propicio

Al rendirse tu intacta adolescencia,
emergió, con ingenuo desaliño,
tu delicado cuello, del corpiño
anchamente floreado. En la opulencia,
del salón solitario, mi cariño
te brindaba su equívoca indulgencia
sintiendo muy cercana la presencia
del duende familiar, rosa y armiño.
Como una cinta de cambiante falla,
tendía su color sobre la playa
la tarde. Disolvía tus sonrojos,
en insidiosas mieles mi sofisma,
y desde el cielo fraternal, la misma
estrella se miraba en nuestros ojos.



El canto de la angustia

Yo andaba solo y callado
Porque tú te hallabas lejos;
y aquella noche
Te estaba escribiendo,
Cuando por la casa desolada
Arrastró el horror su trapo siniestro.

Brotó la idea, ciertamente,
De los sombríos objetos:
El piano,
El tintero,
La borra de café en la taza,
y mi traje negro.

Sutil como las alas del perfume
Vino tu recuerdo.
lbs ojos de joven cordial y triste,
Tus cabellos,
Como un largo y suave pájaro
De silencio.
(Los cabellos que resisten a la muerte
Con la vida de la seda, en tanto misterio.)
Tu boca donde suspira
La sombra interior habitada por los sueños.
Tu garganta,
Donde veo
Palpitar como un sollozo de sangre,
La lenta vida en que te mece durmiendo.

Un vientecillo desolado,
Más que soplar, tiritaba en soplo ligero.
Y entre tanto,
El silencio,
Como una blanda y suspirante lluvia
Caía lento.

Caía de la inmensidad,
Inmemorial y eterno.
Adivinábase afuera
Un cielo,
Peor que oscuro:
Un angustioso cielo ceniciento.

Y de pronto, desde la puerta cerrada
Me dio en la nuca un soplo trémulo,
y conocí que era la cosa mala
De las cosas solas, y miré el blanco techo.
Diciéndome: «Es una absurda
Superstición, un ridículo miedo.»
Y miré la pared impávida.
Y noté que afuera había parado el viento.
¡Oh aquel desamparo exterior y enorme
Del silencio!
Aquel egoísmo de puertas cerradas
Que sentía en todo el pueblo.
Solamente no me atrevía
A mirar hacia atrás,
Aunque estaba cierto
De que no había nadie;
Pero nunca,
¡Oh, nunca habría mirado de miedo!
Del miedo horroroso
De quedarme muerto.

Poco a poco, en vegetante
Pululación de escalofrío eléctrico,
Erizáronse en mi cabeza
Los cabellos.
Uno a uno los sentía,
y aquella vida extraña era otro tormento.

Y contemplaba mis manos
Sobre la mesa, qué extraordinarios miembros;
Mis manos tan pálidas,
Manos de muerto.
y noté que no sentía
Mi corazón desde hacía mucho tiempo.
Y sentí que te perdía para siempre,
Con la horrible certidumbre de estar despierto.
y grité tu nombre
Con un grito interno,
Con una voz extraña
Que no era la mía y que estaba muy lejos.
Y entonces, en aquel grito,
Sentí que mi corazón muy adentro,
Como un racimo de lágrimas,
Se deshacía en un llanto benéfico.


Leopoldo Lugones - Rubén Darío - Francisco Contreras
 


Poesia: Leopoldo Lugones - Delectación amorosa - Divagación lunar - El astro propicio - El canto de la angustia - Links





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Cuenta Comentarista en el Foro:
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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 :)




NASA: Peru - Landsat 8 Detects New Deforestation - 11.19.13 - It is happening now - Esta sucediendo ahora


Landsat 8 Detects New Deforestation in Peru
acquired August 28, 2013 download large image (7 MB, JPEG, 4572x4572)
Landsat 8 Detects New Deforestation in Peru
acquired October 5, 2012 download large image (5 MB, JPEG, 4572x4572)
acquired October 5, 2012 - August 28, 2013 download Google Earth file (KML)


Tropical forests are threatened by many types of farming, ranching, and human activity. One of the best ways to track those threats is through the Landsat series of satellites, developed by NASA and operated by the U.S. Geological Survey. The accessible and free archive of Landsat data makes it possible for scientists to monitor changes in remote landscapes without leaving their offices and labs.
Remote sensing scientist Clinton Jenkins of North Carolina State University had just such an opportunity earlier this year. In July 2013, he received a tip from colleagues in South America about some possible deforestation in the Loreto region of Peru. Jenkins and colleagues then began combing through recently acquired Landsat images for signs of change. Within hours, they found an image with what appeared to be bare ground in previously intact forest east of Tamshiyacu, Peru. But the image was cloudy, a problem for remote sensing of most tropical regions in daylight.
So the researchers waited. Every eight days, either Landsat 7 or Landsat 8 passed over the region, and every eight days, they got another cloudy image with hints but no confirmation of cleared forest. Finally on August 28, 2013, Landsat 8 got a clear view of the area. The top image above, from the Operational Land Imager on Landsat 8, shows the extent of the new deforestation. The lower image, from the Enhanced Thematic Mapper Plus on Landsat 7, shows the same area on October 5, 2012.
“Landsat imagery is essential for environmental monitoring because it is free, easy to access, and quickly available after the satellite passes over an area,” said Jenkins, who has been studying deforestation since he was a graduate student. “Satellites are the only way to monitor these areas because they are so large and so difficult to access.”
By piecing together evidence from multiple Landsat 7 and 8 images, Jenkins and colleagues have estimated a deforestation rate of roughly 100 hectares (247 acres) per week in the tract they observed. As of early September 2013, at least one thousand hectares were cleared near Tamshiyacu, according to Jenkins. Using a NASA-funded dataset on tropical biomass, he estimated that 300,000 tons of biomass were cut down, equal to 150,000 tons of carbon emitted to the atmosphere. Scientists are continuing to monitor the area by satellite, but cloud cover continues to be a problem.
Across Amazonia, as well as tropical Asia, one of the newest threats to forests is the clearing of land for palm oil plantations. The production of oil palm has been dominated by Indonesia and Malaysia, where vast tracts of palm trees have replaced much of the native forest in recent decades, often through burning. With such deforestation now escalating in the Amazon, scientists are concerned about the impact on biodiversity and on the planet’s carbon budget.
“Without the Landsat archive, there is simply no way we could have documented this deforestation fast enough to have any chance of stopping it,” Jenkins said. “Delayed access could mean thousands of hectares of forest destroyed, largely unseen, until it is too late.”
“Tracking forest disturbance, particularly tropical deforestation, is one of the landmark applications of Landsat data,” said Jim Irons, NASA’s project scientist for the Landsat program. “Through the archive and its open data policy, the evidence of forest disturbance is transparent, unbiased, conclusive, and available to all.”
  1. References and Further Reading

  2. Baccini, A., et al (2012) Estimated carbon dioxide emissions from tropical deforestation improved by carbon-density maps. Nature Climate Change 2 (2012) 182–185.
  3. Gutiérrez-Vélez, V.H. et al (2011) High-yield oil palm expansion spares land at expense of forests in the Peruvian Amazon. Environmental Research Letters (6) 044029.
  4. Koh, L.P. and Wilcove, D.S. (2008) Is oil palm agriculture really destroying tropical biodiversity? Conservation Letters Volume 1, Issue 2, 60-64.
  5. La Region (2013, September 2) Hemos constatado que hay una deforestación masiva en Tamshiyacu. Accessed September 16, 2013.
  6. NASA Earth Observatory World of Change: Amazon Deforestation.
  7. NASA Earth Observatory (2012, July 23) Landsat Looks and Sees.
  8. NASA Earth Observatory (2012, January 9) Seeing the Forests for the Trees and the Carbon.
  9. NASA Earth Observatory (2007, March 30) Tropical Deforestation.
NASA Earth Observatory images by Jesse Allen and Robert Simmon, using Landsat 8 data from the USGS Earth Explorer. Caption by Mike Carlowicz, NASA Earth Observatory.
Instrument: 
Landsat 8 - OLI


NASA: Peru - Landsat 8 Detects New Deforestation - 11.19.13 - It is happening now - Esta sucediendo ahora





Ricardo M Marcenaro - Facebook

Blogs of The Solitary Dog:

Solitary Dog Sculptor:
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Para:
comunicarse conmigo,
enviar materiales para publicar,
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For:
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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 :)




Short Stories: Ambrose Bierce - A Psychological Shipwreck - Links to more Short Stories




A Psychological Shipwreck

In the summer of 1874 I was in Liverpool, whither I had gone on business for the mercantile house of Bronson & Jarrett, New York. I am William Jarrett; my partner was Zenas Bronson. The firm failed last year, and unable to endure the fall from affluence to poverty he died.
     Having finished my business, and feeling the lassitude and exhaustion incident to its dispatch, I felt that a protracted sea voyage would be both agreeable and beneficial, so instead of embarking for my return on one of the many fine passenger steamers I booked for New York on the sailing vessel Morrow, upon which I had shipped a large and valuable invoice of the goods I had bought. The Morrow was an English ship with, of course, but little accommodation for passengers, of whom there were only myself, a young woman and her servant, who was a middle-aged negress. I thought it singular that a travelling English girl should be so attended, but she afterward explained to me that the woman had been left with her family by a man and his wife from South Carolina, both of whom had died on the same day at the house of the young lady's father in Devonshire -- a circumstance in itself sufficiently uncommon to remain rather distinctly in my memory, even had it not afterward transpired in conversation with the young lady that the name of the man was William Jarrett, the same as my own. I knew that a branch of my family had settled in South Carolina, but of them and their history I was ignorant.
     The Morrow sailed from the mouth of the Mersey on the 15th of June, and for several weeks we had fair breezes and unclouded skies. The skipper, an admirable seaman but nothing more, favoured us with very little of his society, except at his table; and the young woman, Miss Janette Harford, and I became very well acquainted. We were, in truth, nearly always together, and being of an introspective turn of mind I often endeavoured to analyse and define the novel feeling with which she inspired me -- a secret, subtle, but powerful attraction which constantly impelled me to seek her; but the attempt was hopeless. I could only be sure that at least it was not love. Having assured myself of this and being certain that she was quite as whole-hearted, I ventured one evening (I remember it was on the 3rd of July) as we sat on deck to ask her, laughingly, if she could assist me to resolve my psychological doubt.



     For a moment she was silent, with averted face, and I began to fear I had been extremely rude and indelicate; then she fixed her eyes gravely on my own. In an instant my mind was dominated by as strange a fancy as ever entered human consciousness. It seemed as if she were looking at me, not with, but through, those eyes -- from an immeasurable distance behind them -- and that a number of other persons, men, women and children, upon whose faces I caught strangely familiar evanescent expressions, clustered about her, struggling with gentle eagerness to look at me through the same orbs. Ship, ocean, sky -- all had vanished. I was conscious of nothing but the figures in this extraordinary and fantastic scene. Then all at once darkness fell upon me, and anon from out of it, as to one who grows accustomed by degrees to a dimmer light, my former surroundings of deck and mast and cordage slowly resolved themselves. Miss Harford had closed her eyes and was leaning back in her chair, apparently asleep, the book she had been reading open in her lap. Impelled by surely I cannot say what motive, I glanced at the top of the page; it was a copy of that rare and curious work, Denneker's Meditations, and the lady's index finger rested on this passage:
     'To sundry it is given to be drawn away, and to be apart from the body for a season; for, as concerning rills which would flow across each other the weaker is borne along by the stronger, so there be certain of kin whose paths intersecting, their souls do bear company, the while their bodies go foreappointed ways, unknowing.'
     Miss Harford arose, shuddering; the sun had sunk below the horizon, but it was not cold. There was not a breath of wind; there were no clouds in the sky, yet not a star was visible. A hurried tramping sounded on the deck; the captain, summoned from below, joined the first officer, who stood looking at the barometer. 'Good God!' I heard him exclaim. 



     An hour later the form of Janette Harford, invisible in the darkness and spray, was torn from my grasp by the cruel vortex of the sinking ship, and I fainted in the cordage of the floating mast to which I had lashed myself.
     It was by lamplight that I awoke. I lay in a berth amid the familiar surroundings of the state-room of a steamer. On a couch opposite sat a man, half undressed for bed, reading a book. I recognized the face of my friend Gordon Doyle, whom I had met in Liverpool on the day of my embarkation, when he was himself about to sail on the steamer City of Prague, on which he had urged me to accompany him.
     After some moments I now spoke his name. He simply said, 'Well,' and turned a leaf in his book without removing his eyes from the page.
     'Doyle,' I repeated, 'did they save her? '
     He now deigned to look at me and smiled as if amused. He evidently thought me but half awake.
     'Her? Whom do you mean?'
     'Janette Harford.'
     His amusement turned to amazement; he stared at me fixedly, saying nothing.
     'You will tell me after awhile,' I continued; 'I suppose you will tell me after awhile.'
     A moment later I asked: 'What ship is this? ' Doyle stared again. 'The steamer City of Prague, bound from Liverpool to New York, three weeks out with a broken shaft. Principal passenger, Mr. Gordon Doyle; ditto lunatic, Mr. William Jarrett. These two distinguished travellers embarked together, but they are about to part, it being the resolute intention of the former to pitch the latter overboard.'
     I sat bolt upright. 'Do you mean to say that I have been for three weeks a passenger on this steamer?'
     'Yes, pretty nearly; this is the 3rd of July.'
     'Have I been ill? '
     'Right as a trivet all the time, and punctual at your meals.'
     'My God! Doyle, there is some mystery here; do have the goodness to be serious. Was I not rescued from the wreck of the ship Morrow?'
     Doyle changed colour, and approaching me, laid his fingers on my wrist.



A moment later, 'What do you know of Janette Harford?' he asked very calmly.
     'First tell me what you know of her?'
     Mr. Doyle gazed at me for some moments as if thinking what to do, then seating himself again on the couch, said:
     'Why should I not? I am engaged to marry Janette Harford, whom I met a year ago in London. Her family, one of the wealthiest in Devonshire, cut up rough about it, and we eloped -- are eloping rather, for on the day that you and I walked to the landing stage to go aboard this steamer she and her faithful servant, a negress, passed us, driving to the ship Morrow. She would not consent to go in the same vessel with me, and it had been deemed best that she take a sailing vessel in order to avoid observation and lessen the risk of detection. I am now alarmed lest this cursed breaking of our machinery may detain us so long that the Morrow will get to New York before us, and the poor girl will not know where to go.'
     I lay still in my berth -- so still I hardly breathed. But the subject was evidently not displeasing to Doyle, and after a short pause he resumed:
     'By the way, she is only an adopted daughter of the Harfords. Her mother was killed at their place by being thrown from a horse while hunting, and her father, mad with grief, made away with himself the same day. No one ever claimed the child, and after a reasonable time they adopted her.


She has grown up in the belief that she is their daughter.'
     'Doyle, what book are you reading? '
     'Oh, it's called Denneker's Meditations. It's a rum lot, Janette gave it to me; she happened to have two copies. Want to see it?'
     He tossed me the volume, which opened as it fell. On one of the exposed pages was a marked passage:
     'To sundry it is given to be drawn away, and to be apart from the body for a season; for, as concerning rills which would flow across each other the weaker is borne along by the stronger, so there be certain of kin whose paths intersecting, their souls do bear company, the while their bodies go foreappointed ways, unknowing.'
     'She had -- she has -- a singular taste in reading,' I managed to say, mastering my agitation.
     'Yes. And now perhaps you will have the kindness to explain how you knew her name and that of the ship she sailed in.'
     'You talked of her in your sleep,' I said.
     A week later we were towed into the port of New York. But the Morrow was never heard from. 




Links

Ana María Shua
Ambrose Bierce
Edgar Allan Poe
G.K. Chesterton
Guy de Maupassant
Oscar Wilde
Sherwood Anderson






Short Stories: Ambrose Bierce - A Psychological Shipwreck - Links to more Short Stories





Ricardo M Marcenaro - Facebook

Blogs of The Solitary Dog:

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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 :)




Painter: Salvador Dali - In historical order - En el orden histórico - 1980-83 - Part 3 - 12 images imagenes - Links


Salvador Dali - Figures (Scene after Goya), 1981

 
Salvador Dali - Jason Carrying the Golden Fleece (unfinished), circa 1981

 
Salvador Dali - Landscape with Rock in the Shape of a Triumphal Arch, 1981

 
Salvador Dali - Reading. Family Scene by Lamplight, 1981

 
Salvador Dali - Spanish Nobleman with a Cross of Brabant on His Jerkin, 1981

 
Salvador Dali - The Exterminating Angels, 1981

 
Salvador Dali - Three Female Figures in Festive Gowns, 1981

 
Salvador Dali - Untitled (Female Bust with Draped Cloth), 1981

 
Salvador Dali - Untitled (Head of a Woman_ unfinished), 1981

 
Salvador Dali - Untitled (Imaginary Landscape at Pubol), 1981

 
Salvador Dali - Untitled (Skin of a Beach), 1981

 
Salvador Dali - Woman on a Ram, 1981




1914-20

1925-30

1930-35

1935-40

1940-45

1945-50

1950-55

1955-60

1960-65

1965-70

1970-75

1975-80

1980-83


Painter: Salvador Dali - In historical order - En el orden histórico - 1980-83 - Part 3 - 12 images imagenes - Links





Ricardo M Marcenaro - Facebook

Blogs of The Solitary Dog:

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

Para:
comunicarse conmigo,
enviar materiales para publicar,
propuestas comerciales:
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For:
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submit materials for publication,
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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 :)