It is just, yes: humanity, the bereaved,
your bowels of love, everything commands you
really feel and water with tears
That corpse, forever immobile,
that was your brother. The relentless death
opened his hateful tomb
timelessly and knocked him down. Oh! To his life
how many years he stole! How much hope!
How much brotherly love! and how much, how much
miserable pain and deep memory
his brother advances and his friends!
The wicked live tormenting and living,
and a whole century of complete wickedness;
And the honorable mortal in whose breast
is kindly hospitable
is born, and ceases to be? Oh! cries, cries,
dear Fernandez, the fatal destiny
of an unhappy brother; also my eyes
know how to weep, and in your present affliction
more than once your friendship paid
your tribute of tears. If heaven
benigno heard the sincere vows
of the fiery friendship! At the point, to the point
towards the corpse of your flying love
second life will inspire you, and ledo
"return to your brother and your old joy".
But alas! the man in his sad impotence can not but sigh desires.
The slab falls on the voracious tomb
and eternity falls; and in vain, in vain
who in their abyss is lost call him
here the voices of the mortal mourner.
No power, no virtue, no humble supplications
nor the woe of widowhood, nor sighs
innocent orphans, nor sobs
Nothing penetrates the deaf ears
> of insensitive death. Our ayes
at the threshold of the tomb arrive,
and heard are not; that the senses
there ceased, reason is mute,
helose the heart, and passions
They lie, yea, they lie; the pain
also with them forever lies,
and life is pain. Call your years,
dear Fernandez; without passion ask
what have you been in them? and with sad voices they will say, "If one day you laugh serenely, one hundred and a hundred after him, stormy
thundering on you, deep tracesp>
of evil and fear only left.
such is the image
of this cruel life that we love so much.
of our childhood
which in no way is ours. The others command
to their pleasure of our weak body;
And our mind at its whim serves.
If our mourning for his indolence offends,
Let us stop his fierce hardness,
or his barbaric angry hand
about us falls off. Unhappy child!
Weep and cry, when you barely
from injustice, bloody oppression
and contempt, loathing, and so many evils
Preludes, woe to those who wait for you!
Your years will run, and by your years
man will hear you say; but always child
Morton Arboretum - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Morton Arboretum is an arboretum and botanical garden of 1700 square miles (7.9 km²) in Lisle, Illinois. The Joy Morton estate that it already owned in 1910 formed the base of the original Arboretum area.
Xesta - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Corolla of 9-12 mm cos petals of the same length; the standard is on the back, ergueito and low, tinted vermello at the base. In Galicia it is in the interior and mountainous zone of the country, in the highest northeastern, in non calcareous soils.
FLOWERS Beautiful and LOVELY
The flowers are gathered in the spadix, that long part full of carobs that is wrapped in the white sheet (see photo beside). At this stage of flowering should be watered twice a week, at most three, being careful not to water the flowers.
among children you will be. Unjust and just,
oppressor and oppressed all at once
of your passions in the furious sea
lost swim. In eternal struggle
of actions and desires, ill-assured
You will not know what to want; and pissed
with the present, you will fly anxious
to another time and place always looking for
there your happiness where you can not.
And what will it be that in your virtue content
you enjoy yourself, if you look around
Your tender heart will see the evils,
Only a barren cry is the comfort
that can give your fiery charity.
Is there pain equal to hearing the sad
suffering without hope? O death, death!
Oh happy tomb! Lucky
thousand and a thousand times those who there at rest
the evils ended! Oh! at least
their eyes will not see the horrible scene
of holy virtue bound in triumph
from evil to victorious chariot.
They will not listen to the stinging plant
of injustice breaking the neck
of helpless innocence and alone,
nor will the sacrileges incense
That of power in the bloody aras
outrageous adulation burns.
Oh how much they will not see! Why do we cry,
My Fernandez, if the grave breaks
so much unhappiness? Wipe, wipe
your sorrowful tears; your brother
began to be happy; yes, cease, cease
your sorrow already. Look that afflicts
your friends your suffering face
and your dear wife and your children.
The little Hippolytus suspended,
The finger placed between his cool lips,
Watch your sadness, and be sad;
p> always the eyes on his father fixed.
You weep, and he cries; and in your kindly cry
what do you think it will say? "Father," he says to you,
"Is pain everlasting? Are not there on earth
other affections that empty fill
that your brother left? My tender mother
lives, and my sister, and to love you live,
And I will love you with them. Someday
You will see my youthful years full
of rich fruits, which unofficially now
with a thousand strivings in my bosom you sow.
Honored, naive, industrious, human,
slave of duty, burning friend,
I will be what you How many delights
You will weep with pleasure, and I will with you.
But live, live, if you fail me,
Oh poor Hippolytus! without shadow
ouch! What will become of you orphaned and lonely?
No, my sweet daddy; your life is mine
Do not open it to me, piercing your soul
with the thorns of cruel sadness.
Live, yes, live; that if the ungodly hado
could break your brotherly bonds,
thou thou shalt find everywhere:
Love is brotherhood, and all love you.
Nicasio in love will be your brother.
A hundred friends who laugh at you tenderly adopt someone, and if you guide me through me.
Yellow text is omitted in the manuscript, although it appears in the Polt edition. The words in blue are the differences between the manuscript and the Polt version.