Current state of the Ermita de San Antonio, the Poor.
Saturnino Espin Photography
When I wrote it, late 70's, the enclave was an archetype of abandoned and reviled monument. Not the case today, the antithesis of that yesterday I say. Hallelujah!
The title referred to the sonnet, as it was when I left, I had some imperfections of rhyme and rhythm (rather than now), and it's topped devised to assimilate sonnet enclave sonetizado. " Today, improved these technical details, but let the title. I do not know why.
The first verse refers to the relative proximity to the city of Murcia. Enough to be uncrowded. And ensure that latent incivility, and everlasting, the English had intended for his irreverence. The second verse is "stolen" to Luis Cernuda, one of his most memorable poems, taken in turn Becquer (I think). The venue was appropriate to embody the metaphor: permanent house oblivion. The third is brief reference to the monument, very small. And simple design (poor theory .) Even loneliness, there was little.
In the second quartet, continue the metaphorical description. Most art was more natural environment (pine and rock), that architecture. Twilight mentioned is the monument, to succumb entirely, rather than the sun all day. The temple itself silences the sobs of the branches that fall down, as a cry for battered monument. Sadness gave the ruins, with a gaping hole in the roof caused by a large rock impelled from above.
swallows also pre-summer witnessed the disaster. And their flights were like threads of a tapestry which contained the pain and distress suffered various: the municipal authority, that of the Church and even the respect of citizens.
ended with an invocation to the shrine, asking how it was that no one "looking" for it, ie caring for his protection. And summarized in a list the elements of his nature: the garden, immediately, the mountain environment, and the slight baroque artistic style. Finally, I draw the only visitors at that time: the clouds and birds.
With God.
SONNET TOPPING TO SAN ANTONIO THE POOR
Four walls touching distance,
Inhale and rock.
Your stone sparingly, your theory
poor, lonely little resolved.
pine and rock art of looking
the cast poorly. Your corners,
accordance twilight, silencing
branches, and the sadness of your ruins.
's shadow swallows tour
and back, which frayed thread
double tapestry of grief and helplessness.
Oh, San Antonio's poor, who look at you:
garden, mountain, and poor Baroque style.
clouds know you, and birds.
