Domestic Incident Of The Visionary Don Miguel de Unamuno

I'm back on my feet many times, especially to reread almost forgotten authors isolated in the halo of academic classrooms, in the dusty shelves, visited only by the hands of the wind and looks distracted and idle. It is not my case I must put it bluntly, but also without vanity. I go every day to the humble room where I place in alphabetical symmetry all the books I've acquired over the years. Behind a row of text, of recent date, dark and melancholy could see an analogy of the sublime writer, philosopher, thinker, poet and Basque educator Miguel de Unamuno. With pleasure we get into the pages of lucid poems, something yellow and brittle and as a result of the relentless passage of time with his scythe mowing everything, all diluted, corrupted and disappears. ecstatic in reading most representative verses of his poetry, Lyrical Sonnets Rosary, The Christ of Velasquez, Wanderings and Spanish Visions, Rhymes Inside Romance of Exile, among many others, we have a piece of small size and apparent simplicity intimate: Incident Domestic. To compose poetic piece, lay hold of Don Miguel free verse, to describe an incident gentleness warm while delivering his thoughtful reflections and young daughter playing with paper and pencil sitting at his feet in an afternoon.

Free verse same as your thought wings to the wind on ripe wheat pastures on the fierce breaking waves, gliding among tufts of grass recently, between the trunks of the trees and the rustic presence of the wild beasts. This feeling of liberation and independence entice the spirit to face tighter reading this dawn of future visions. With remarkable harmony, with no ties to the discipline of rhyme, harmonies on paper reels with every sign of his magical poetry. In colloquial speech outlines a simple episode in it day and describes the scene of his daughter delivered a tasty little disquisitions in a secret language and too unknown.

"Draw the girl rough scrawl, write shadowing, dicecon me presents and a pout of intelligent gesture

"What it says here, Dad?" Then the mind of the philosopher, sensible, coherent and lucid, faces innocent scribbling results, provides rustic arabesques and written by the small primes. Nothing in this writing, on curves and slopes without intellectual pretensions and answer with certainty. Oblivious to the claims of the spirit that shines in the eyes of the child, unprepared and cautiously replied: "I look at lines that look like poems." Here? " "Yes, here, what I wrote, what say? Because I can not read ...""¡ says nothing here", I said at the time?.

Given the bleak expression of the small, Unamuno makes a stop in their reflection and shelled the mysteries of language and its chimeric scents, through the many ways we have found humans to understand and to harass, to declare the cult of beauty and to be deafened with the noise and frenzy of the inconsistency. From the fury of a babbling to the section on the role of the doodle multiforme, insubstantial and trivial, the poet invokes the hobgoblin of the imagination to comprehend the incomprehensible, to grasp the ungraspable. Something then advanced in their thinking, a movement of suspects, unknown to his wisdom. Imagine then the future the world to come, the stunning gulf of time separating it from time these scribbles have substance and meaning. Meditate on the extent of lexical universe of those days still exist when it no longer and his words remain hidden in dusty shelves. This poem does not owe it to Unamuno prophetic spirit but a body encased in a child, curious and movable between dense and innumerable forms of matter vile and rude. numen Does a personal or a divine messenger of astronomical heights sometimes dictates those paragraphs mediocre or excellent or expressed through incomprehensible signs of awkward shapes and lines in disarray? Perhaps in a past lost and our human ancestors found in a fit of frenzy or a metaphysical fit the rudiments of language that helps us to understand today or to distance, moved his hands for ghosts? is in this simplicity, in this form of madness lies the genius.

Beyond the folly and the disintegration of logic we find these flashes, at first crude nonsense and the time base of one's existence and its infinite manifestations. Then the poet is the only creature that can peer into these halls and scrutinize these folios where the dogmas and academic rigor and are not needed there. In recent times we have witnessed the transformation of the media, the modification of the terms and the base material of language, the written word . Influences of an interconnected world through technological advances like this that we use today, the Internet (where you use resources such as email and chat) and mobile phones (with their abbreviated messages, perhaps rude imitations of the announced poem by Unamuno) are becoming more abundant and expansive. Those who now sail on the unstoppable flow of advances in technology can not even imagine what is to come, as it was able to perceive Unamuno.