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1. |
Deshoras
05:18
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Me arropa el miedo,
no sé elegir entre el endriago con cara de ayer,
o las inagotables formas de renuncia.
La terminante imagen en mi razón
cuando pienso en la muerte,
necios opuestos, tú y yo,
y faltan almohadas
que me abracen al oscurecer.
A veces faltas,
parece extraño, ajeno a veces, faltas.
© 2014, Liz Ruvalcaba, Eliud Ernandes
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2. |
Vía
06:04
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El lado de la cama
que no ha vencido el temor,
va derritiendo mi alma
de nuevo incierta en un rincón.
Dejar salir promesas,
futuros que no sé entender,
las manos encendidas,
raíces tuyas en mi piel.
Pesa el amor, tus brazos,
deudas de vidas pasadas
que me pagan tus labios,
me dejan empeñada.
Cercanía que aterra,
miedo cuando no te vas,
cuando no te quedas.
© 2014, Liz Ruvalcaba, Eliud Ernandes
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3. |
Saudade
06:45
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Aprisionado aliento,
en negro vino estoy.
Ilusionada espero,
navego en mar de error.
Quizás él perdido esté,
una Isla, soledad...
Ojos fijos en el mar,
quizás él tornará.
El sol me resplandecerá,
la luna lo iluminará.
Algún día volverá,
algún día responderá...
Viendo simplemente al mar...
© 2014, Liz Ruvalcaba, Eliud Ernandes
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4. |
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I sat within the valley green
I sat me with my true love.
My sad heart strove the two between
The old love and the new love.
The old for her the new
That made me think on Ireland dearly.
While the soft wind blew down the glade
and shook the golden barley.
'Twas hard the woeful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us.
But harder still to bear the shame
of foreign chains around us.
And so I said the mountain glen
I'll meet at morning early.
And I'll join the bold united men
While soft winds shook the barley.
'Twas sad I kissed away her tears
My fond arm round her flinging.
When a foe, man's shot burst on our ears
From out the wild woods ringing.
A bullet pierced my true love's side
In life's young spring so early.
And on my breast in blood she died
While soft winds shook the barley.
But blood for blood without remorse
I've ta'en at oulart hollow.
I've lain my true love's clay like corpse
Where I full soon must follow.
Around her grave I've wandered drear
Noon, night, and morning early.
With breaking heart when e'er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley.
© Robert Dwyer Joyce
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CIAN Guadalajara, Mexico
En un tiempo en el que parece que la música mexicana estuviera condenada a encontrar un mensaje hacia la muerte y el dolor,
las nuevas ideas hechas arte y propuesta aportan soluciones emocionales para la gente que vive y constituye el alma de un país.
CIAN se ubica allí, en la propuesta bella y creativa.
—Gerardo Rábago
Director de Orquesta
... more
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