agonia espanol v3 |
Agonia.Net | Reglas | Mission | Contacto | Regístrate | ||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
||
![]() |
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() | |||||
Artículo Comunidades Concurso Ensayo Multimedia Personales Poemas Presa Prosa _QUOTE Guión Especial | ||||||
![]() |
|
|||||
![]() |
agonia ![]()
■ Tierra baldía ![]()
Romanian Spell-Checker ![]() Contacto |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-03-28 | [Este texto, tienes que leerlo en english] | Inscrito en la biblioteca por x
Arena dust rusted by four bulls' blood to a dull redness,
The afternoon at a bad end under the crowd's truculence, The ritual death each time botched among dropped capes, ill-judged stabs, The strongest will seemed a will towards ceremony. Obese, dark- Faced in his rich yellows, tassels, pompons, braid, the picador Rode out against the fifth bull to brace his pike and slowly bear Down deep into the bent bull-neck. Cumbrous routine, not artwork. Instinct for art began with the bull's horn lofting in the mob's Hush a lumped man-shape. The whole act formal, fluent as a dance. Blood faultlessly broached redeemed the sullied air, the earth's grossness.
|
||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
|||
![]() | |||||||||
![]() |
La casa de la literatura | ![]() | |||||||
![]() |
La reproducción de cualquier texto que pertenece al portal sin nuestro permiso està estrictamente prohibida.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net
E-mail | Política de publicación et confidencialidad