{"id":116,"date":"2012-03-09T10:00:00","date_gmt":"2012-03-09T09:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/2012\/03\/09\/san-lourenzo\/"},"modified":"2012-03-09T10:00:00","modified_gmt":"2012-03-09T09:00:00","slug":"san-lourenzo","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/2012\/03\/09\/san-lourenzo\/","title":{"rendered":"SAN LOURENZO"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I<\/p>\n<p>\u00d3 mirar cal de novo nos campos<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; iban a abrocha-las rosas,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; dixen: \u201c\u00a1E onde, Dios mio,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; irei a esconderme agora!\u201d<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; E pensei de San Lourenzo<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; na robreda silenciosa.<\/p>\n<p>Nalg\u00fan tempo aqu\u00e9s vellos carballos,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; amostrando as s\u00faas ra\u00edces,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; c\u00e1lva-las redondas copas<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; que xa de musgo se visten,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u00e1s tristes almas fal\u00e1banlles<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; tan soio de cousas tristes.<\/p>\n<p>O alcipr\u00e9s que direito se asoma<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; do convento tras do muro,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; i o lixeiro campanario<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; cuberto de herbas e mugos,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; da devesa, co cruceiro<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; eran cintinelas mudos.<\/p>\n<p>I aquel Cristo que no arco de pedra<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; abatido a frente incrina,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; soio, cal si inda no G\u00f3lgota<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; loitase coas agon\u00edas,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u00f3s coraz\u00f3s oprimidos<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; resignaci\u00f3n lle infund\u00eda.<\/p>\n<p>E si dentro do craustro deserto<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; e ruinoso penetraba,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; nunca do olvido unha imaxen<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; vira no mundo m\u00e1is crara,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; nin de m\u00e1is grande silencio<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; na terra vos rodeara.<\/p>\n<p>No profundo da fonte escondida<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; medraban con libertade<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; antre as s\u00edlva-las violas,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; antre o buxo as dixitales,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; i a morte \u00a1cal fora grata<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; naquel deserto lugare!<\/p>\n<p>E por eso \u00f3 mirar cal nos campos<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; de novo abrochan as rosas<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; dixen: \u201c\u00a1En onde, Dios m\u00edo,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; irei a esconderme agora!\u201d<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I \u00f3 bosque de San Lourenzo<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; me encami\u00f1ei silenciosa.<\/p>\n<p>\u00bfOnde estaba o sagrado retiro?<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Percib\u00edn ru\u00eddos estra\u00f1os.<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Pedreiros i\u00f1an e vi\u00f1an<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; por aquel bosque apartado.<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u00a1Era que unha man piadosa<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; coidaba os dasamparados!<\/p>\n<p>Dunha ollada med\u00edn o interiore&#8230;<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Todo relumbraba branco,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; cada pedra era un espello,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; i o vello convento un pazo<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; coberto de lindas frores.<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u00a1Que terrible desencanto!<\/p>\n<p>\u00a1Negra nube cubreu de repente<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; os meus ollos asombrados;<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; e m\u00e1is que nunca abatida,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; fux\u00edn&#8230;! Que o retiro amado<br \/>pareceume a alma limpa dun monxe<br \/>sumerxida nos lodos mundanos.<\/p>\n<!-- AddThis Advanced Settings generic via filter on the_content --><!-- AddThis Share Buttons generic via filter on the_content -->","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I \u00d3 mirar cal de novo nos campos&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; iban a abrocha-las rosas,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; dixen: \u201c\u00a1E onde, Dios mio,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; irei a esconderme agora!\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; E pensei de San Lourenzo&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; na robreda silenciosa. Nalg\u00fan tempo aqu\u00e9s vellos carballos,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; amostrando as s\u00faas ra\u00edces,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; c\u00e1lva-las redondas copas&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; que xa de musgo se visten,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u00e1s tristes almas fal\u00e1banlles&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; tan soio de [&hellip;]<!-- AddThis Advanced Settings generic via filter on get_the_excerpt --><!-- AddThis Share Buttons generic via filter on get_the_excerpt --><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[3],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/116"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=116"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/116\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=116"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=116"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=116"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}