{"id":118,"date":"2012-03-16T10:00:00","date_gmt":"2012-03-16T09:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/2012\/03\/16\/olvidemo-los-mortos\/"},"modified":"2012-03-16T10:00:00","modified_gmt":"2012-03-16T09:00:00","slug":"olvidemo-los-mortos","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/2012\/03\/16\/olvidemo-los-mortos\/","title":{"rendered":"\u00a1OLVID\u00c9MO-LOS MORTOS!"},"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;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; \u00a1Profanemos do bosque as umbr\u00edas,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; e ante estes mudos testigos,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; o r\u00edo, a fonte i os ceos,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; que eu rompa os xa vellos v\u00ednculos!<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;Do pasado correron as horas,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; s\u00f3 Dios sabe antre que abismos.<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; \u00a1Non tornar\u00e1n&#8230;, olvidemos,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; que a recordanza \u00e9 un martirio!<\/p>\n<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;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; II<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Hai un ni\u00f1o de rosas silvestres<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; cabo da fonte escondido,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; e un prado de herba trevi\u00f1a<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; alfombra o arredor sombriso.<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;Cal un tempo, rebuldan as brisas,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; na fronda cantan os x\u00edlgaros,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; as margaridas sorrinme,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; i oio o marmurar do r\u00edo.<\/p>\n<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;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; III<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Sin amar, cal \u00e9 negra esta vida<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; e perde o sol o seu brilo.<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Deixa que o sorbo postreiro<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; beba do celeste vi\u00f1o.<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;Din que dorme o privado no leito<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; ancho dos fondos olvidos;<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; ambos, pois, xuntos bebamos<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; deste bosque antre os espi\u00f1os.<\/p>\n<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;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; IV<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; \u00a1Que harmonioso na altura resoa<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; o zoar ronco dos pinos!;<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; mais maxino que nos miran<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; sereos dende o monte arisco.<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;E par\u00e9s que trasvexo antre a br\u00e9tema,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; nas vagued\u00e1s do infinito,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; o perfil triste e emborrado<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; dos meus enso\u00f1os perdidos,<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;e que adustas me axexan as sombras<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; tras desos coutos e riscos,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; dos meus mortos adorados<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; e dos meus delores vivos.<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;\u00a1Mais n\u2019importa! Da antigua devesa<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; profanemos os retiros&#8230;<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; S\u00e9ntate \u00f3 meu lado e dime,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; dime&#8230; o que tantas o\u00edron.<\/p>\n<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;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; V<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Es garrido e lanzal i os teus ollos<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; nos meus coma estrelas fixos,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; dormentes, din que o amor neles<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; pousa o seu dedo divino.<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;Eu cont\u00e9mprote en tanto serea,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; dura coma os seixos fr\u00edos,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; e do teu coraz\u00f3n conto<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; os turbulentos latidos.<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;Faise a asm\u00f3sfera densa \u00f3 redore&#8230;<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; \u00a1Decote o mesmo cami\u00f1o!<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Coma o seu cantar os p\u00e1xaros,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; tes, coraz\u00f3n, o teu ritmo.<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;Mais de b\u00e1goas se inunda o meu rostro,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; e da ialma no m\u00e1is \u00edntimo<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; o hast\u00edo lento penetra<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; coma espada de dous f\u00edos.<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;\u00a1Ea!, ap\u00e1rtate lonxe&#8230;, non quero<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; profanar este retiro,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; nin pode o coraz\u00f3n tolo<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; ser de si mesmo asesino.<br \/>&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;Sosegavos, \u00f1\u00e1s sombras airadas,<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; que estou morta para os vivos.<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; \u00a1Sagrado quedaches, bosque!<br \/>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; \u00a1Sin mancha ti, meu esprito!<\/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;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; \u00a1Profanemos do bosque as umbr\u00edas,&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; e ante estes mudos testigos,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; o r\u00edo, a fonte i os ceos,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; que eu rompa os xa vellos v\u00ednculos!&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;Do pasado correron as horas,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; [&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\/118"}],"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=118"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/118\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=118"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=118"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bitaculas.as-pg.gal\/literaria\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=118"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}