Tag Archives: Lugo

Ánxel Fole- Charon

After spending  two years in the mountain village, I arrived in Lugo one rainy afternoon in February.  I ensconced myself in the foyer of the España cinema on the old Rúa do Progreso.  Two old friends were there: Vicentiño and … Continue reading

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There you have him- Man

There are wounded knees that touch the ground Joined hands that unite the soul in one moment Lips that gurgle prayers like mountain springs In the dark of the night, steaming chalices of blood. Someone’s soft hand presses against the … Continue reading

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Poet or not, I will sing of things Waiting on the threshold of my self. With torches of words I’ll light All I inherit, the world they gave me. They are there, like embers against the night, The old things, … Continue reading

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Haloes- Xosé María Díaz Castro

If it’s true a poem is just a halo of light That blind eyes dress things up in- Things dreamt or loved in the darkness- Things that once were then went But still are and now never go, Shadows that, … Continue reading

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