{"id":3484,"date":"2026-10-17T21:20:57","date_gmt":"2026-10-18T01:20:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/canasanta.ca\/?p=3484"},"modified":"2026-10-17T21:44:37","modified_gmt":"2026-10-18T01:44:37","slug":"fuensanta-martin-quero-poesia","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/canasanta.ca\/en\/cultura\/poesia\/fuensanta-martin-quero-poesia\/","title":{"rendered":"Fuensanta Mart\u00edn Quero :: Poes\u00eda"},"content":{"rendered":"

CUERDAS<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Cuerdas. Existen cuerdas en los tejados,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 y en los ojos profundos existen lib\u00e9lulas nocturnas.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Existen hilos, cuerdas transparentes\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 que surcan las brumas del d\u00eda urbano\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 y los inmensos mares verdes\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 de los campos.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a1Tantos a\u00f1os! No hay libros para tantos a\u00f1os.\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Mientras galopan las auroras sin destino cierto,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 y alborotan los relojes de cuarzo\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 la tela gris de los sue\u00f1os,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 corren las horas fr\u00edvolamente por las venas:\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 las cavernas oscuras de los tiempos.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Mientras las camas, incansables, recogen\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 sudores nuevos, l\u00e1grimas nuevas, nuevos muertos,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 entonces, mientras tanto,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 se cruzan temblorosas las infinitas cuerdas,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 nocturnas, ancestrales, fr\u00e1giles cuerdas de los miedos.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Se inflaman las manos que no tocan nada,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 los ojos que no ven;\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 se retuercen los temblores y el vac\u00edo,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 y el horizonte ambiguo s\u00f3lo describe\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 un eco perpetuo de silencios.\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Cuerdas. Ardores de deseos y oraciones,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00falceras de esperanzas y de credos.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Miedos. \u00a1Tantos miedos!\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 No hay libros para tantos miedos.\r\n\r\n\r\n(De Parajes del silencio. Colecci\u00f3n de poes\u00eda Wallada. A\u00f1o 2002)


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EL SEM\u00c1FORO CERRADO<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
La mujer del sem\u00e1foro cerrado,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 la oscura mujer oscura, la mujer\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 de los peri\u00f3dicos por siempre suyos\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 vendiendo sus d\u00edas, su juventud.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Sus l\u00e1grimas corren por el asfalto,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 donde no hay cama, ni mesa, ni hijos;\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 derrama sus ojos en el silencio\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 del estr\u00e9pito loco de motores.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 La oscura mujer oscura, la mujer\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 del sem\u00e1foro cerrado, espera\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 que se ponga la luz verde para ella,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 siempre apagada, siempre oscura,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 como ella, siempre y desde siempre.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 No hay quien le mire ni quien le hable,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 tan s\u00f3lo motores encadenados\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 que le dejan el aire corrompido\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 de un pozo profundo sin salida.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 No hay palabras ni encuentros, s\u00f3lo\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 las horas que esperan en el asfalto,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 siempre suyas, bajo el sol y la lluvia.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Siempre suyos los peri\u00f3dicos, siempre.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 No hay saludos ni sonrisas, s\u00f3lo\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 la estela ciega y sorda de motores,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 y un oscuro sem\u00e1foro cerrado.\r\n\r\n\r\n(De Parajes del silencio. Colecci\u00f3n de poes\u00eda Wallada. A\u00f1o 2002)


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PAR\u00cdS \u201cLA NUIT\u201d<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Par\u00eds, La Nuit.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Emergida la piedra redobla sus campanas,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 las luces dislocadas sobre las v\u00edas fluyen,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 aceras luminosas de \u00e1rboles celestes\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 -eternos bulevares donde desfilan solos-,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 y un \u00e1lgebra de aristas buscando la distancia.\r\n\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Par\u00eds, La Nuit.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Amores ya perdidos entre las hojas muertas\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 de parques que dormitan como los mares lentos\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 circundan las miradas junto a la piedra oscura,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 cuando la fuente llora infinitos deseos\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 sobre la quieta calma de la noche desnuda.\r\n\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Par\u00eds, La Nuit.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 En tu vientre ya rugen las voces de los muertos,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 de los vivos que mueren, de los muertos ya muertos,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 y de aquellos que reptan la vida en los pasillos\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 -inmensos laberintos de paredes inertes\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 donde el m\u00fasico eleva un canto que no vuelve-.\r\n\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Par\u00eds, La Nuit.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Ca\u00f1er\u00edas humanas transitan por tu vientre,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 veloces en su huida, donde el rastro concluye;\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 hay ratas al acecho y una mugre de a\u00f1os\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 junto al silencio absorto de los miles de rostros\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 y cuerpos atrapados entre los largos t\u00faneles.\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Par\u00eds, La Nuit.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Los siglos ya pasados esculpen tu figura.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Inmensa la mirada, esplende la silueta\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 del cuerpo pluriforme de tus ansiados sue\u00f1os.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 La quimera perpleja de Notre Dame observa\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 qu\u00e9 peque\u00f1a es tu alma junto a la augusta piedra.\r\n\r\n(De La esencia hallada. Registro de la Propiedad Intelectual de Andaluc\u00eda MA-1010\/05)


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CRIS\u00c1LIDA<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Seguir\u00e1s siendo t\u00fa\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 tras la forma que olvida los laboriosos d\u00edas\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 con af\u00e1n prodigioso sobre la tierra propia.\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Seguir\u00e1s siendo algo\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 no emulado en lo ajeno, donde el eco persiste\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 elev\u00e1ndose claro con sus alas de aire.\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 En tu c\u00e1lida sombra la quietud concentrada\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 es la esencia del mundo que sobre ti se cierne,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 es tu propia hermosura la aurora protegida,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 la guarida uniforme donde el dolor se enerva:\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 soledad que transforma decrepitud en alas.\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Y del silencio surges, radiante creadora\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 de sue\u00f1os engendrados donde el poeta canta\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 para el amor que atraes y acrisolada buscas.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Es el amor quien vuela en tu liviano cuerpo\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 y quien a ti te eleva con sus alas de cielo.\r\n\r\n(De La esencia hallada. Registro de la Propiedad Intelectual de Andaluc\u00eda MA-1010\/05)


<\/em><\/pre>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
HORIZONTE MARINO<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
A lo lejos no pueden descubrirte los ojos,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 contorno misterioso que la verdad ocultas,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 tan bello inalcanzable -por eso mismo bello-\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 recibes los anhelos que el coraz\u00f3n indulta.\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Sujetando del beso marino su secreto,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 el impulso lascivo que la caricia busca\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 en la armoniosa tierra, como una boca inmensa,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 donde el amor en olas se levanta y derrumba.\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Es tu perenne imagen el h\u00e1bitat perdido\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 de guerras y naufragios borrados por la lluvia\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 donde la Historia engulle: victorias y derrotas\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 que en tu memoria encierras como afanosa tumba.\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 En ti culmina el beso, la c\u00f3pula celeste\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 uniendo agua y aire; y es plena tu hermosura,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 lugar que nunca existes y eterno permaneces,\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 cuando derramas luces vertidas por la luna.\r\n\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 All\u00e1 por tus confines se pierden los deseos\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 y hay p\u00e1jaros que vuelan donde el silencio escucha.\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 La infranqueable calma que en tu regazo habita,\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\r\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 intemporal y libre, en soledad perdura.\r\n\r\n(De La esencia hallada. Registro de la Propiedad Intelectual de Andaluc\u00eda MA-1010\/05)<\/em><\/pre>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Cinco poemas de Fuensanta Mart\u00edn Quero sobre el tiempo, la ciudad, la transformaci\u00f3n y el mar, del archivo de 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