GALDAMES, A PATIO FOR RAVINE
The house where I was born I had no yard, had a great vantage point, down a ravine to the north "Pico Cross, south willows, chestnut trees and some oaks ... Sound of water from a spring that flowed between the limestone and pyrite, and the sounds of shots who bore the subsoil and then primed for explosive and detonating cord. Holes drilled limestone and ore veins and nails of Christ present and petreritos their faces and bodies of the miners drilled. Mirador where I looked out many mornings of my green age, wearing a red corduroy shorts and white checkered shirt. Goats climbing
using their steely claws leaping from rock to rock, and mountains rose to their peaks, ruminating on the lawns, there are places that frequented by the sounds of mines operated and cries of injured miners and tired.
On the hillside is grandfather with his face bleeding from an explosion that blew badly hit your horse! Quiet, Grandma, do not be alarmed, that the blood that carries on his face, clothes and hands, not yours, which is his horse.
His gait is slow, so yes, Grandma seems exhausted, on the back seem to carry a thousand daggers stuck, but do not suffer now veos are ill-sharp knives in that households that had happened!
With my white checkered shirt, a handkerchief suddenly like a shroud, in which clean your face all bloody. Extend the shirt was in cloth and see his face red with white.
Nieto "mine, why I remember things of yesteryear? Do not you know Galdames some sources of supply has dried up so many miners suffocated dry throat, and uttering cries with their fists in the air?
grandmother What I have guilt for having a source of blood in my chest, fountains, cattle and plows, and the miners eat stale and salty bacon? Blood sources and keep me fresh memories of the past.
grandfather, leaving the rider and shotfirer day built upon peak, shovel and KACO, earning the plain and slope areas, where plant giant steps off with his sweat watered. Since potatoes chickpeas, peas and green beans wishful thinking of the past.
Antonio Valcárcel.
using their steely claws leaping from rock to rock, and mountains rose to their peaks, ruminating on the lawns, there are places that frequented by the sounds of mines operated and cries of injured miners and tired.
On the hillside is grandfather with his face bleeding from an explosion that blew badly hit your horse! Quiet, Grandma, do not be alarmed, that the blood that carries on his face, clothes and hands, not yours, which is his horse.
His gait is slow, so yes, Grandma seems exhausted, on the back seem to carry a thousand daggers stuck, but do not suffer now veos are ill-sharp knives in that households that had happened!
With my white checkered shirt, a handkerchief suddenly like a shroud, in which clean your face all bloody. Extend the shirt was in cloth and see his face red with white.
Nieto "mine, why I remember things of yesteryear? Do not you know Galdames some sources of supply has dried up so many miners suffocated dry throat, and uttering cries with their fists in the air?
grandmother What I have guilt for having a source of blood in my chest, fountains, cattle and plows, and the miners eat stale and salty bacon? Blood sources and keep me fresh memories of the past.
grandfather, leaving the rider and shotfirer day built upon peak, shovel and KACO, earning the plain and slope areas, where plant giant steps off with his sweat watered. Since potatoes chickpeas, peas and green beans wishful thinking of the past.
Antonio Valcárcel.
