December 2010

Andalusia has no voice.

The latter has been singing in the sky, the recollections of his Alhambra.

already gone before, Joselito and Juan. And no crutch turned back after ankle Village bullfighters, removing removing penalties famines, as one "Green and White" another giant Granada.

Andalucías The two lost their voice. The manor, whose voice rose Jose and working, why Belmonte cried more than anyone.

Nobody will paint the town, its shallows, its customs ... but yes, there are still old frying eggs in many villages of Andalucia. Many cold rooms with pictures of Christ. Martha and Mary and many of them with only two fish and three garlic to put in their mouth. That dark brush the wind howled the poverty of Andalusia, was forever inhabited by geniuses. And for anyone poor or oppressed no longer paints Andalusian nothing.

Who puts face now for our saints to cry their troubles are Andalusians?.

Nobody. Montanes is carving in woodworking in heaven. The stone of the pulley is colder than ever. Alonso Cano is mourning the solitude of Granada. And Miguel de Manara and Valdés Leal embrace crying, because ultimately what happened here knew that would happen. Premonition. Finis Gloriae Mundi.

Andalusian Gypsies forever curse those bullets, which came out on fire and shot the genius of the King of Poets. Andalusian Andalusian killing. Sisters letting voices silent. Already

Roma have no voice. Again feel the persecution of the fifteenth century was born in Medina del Campo. The

bullfighters have no one to sing his misfortunes at five in the afternoon. The staircase of water and no tears to keep watering the solitude of the garden of Tamarit. Not Fred. Neither his Gazelles, nor its Casidas ... No one will take you to your New York orchards, farmers!. Nor

Antonio and Manuel Machado. Neither Alvarez Quintero, who put smiles better than anyone in the face of hunger and despair. A Cernuda was last seen, there's live Where oblivion. " Andalusia

not already have poets, have all gone to flights of genius, the laying of the experts, the stage of the elect, from contemplating the overwhelming muting his beloved people.

"Pena black weapons", "always with great difficulty", "takeoff." There is not light or hope, or singer who takes our penalties, claims or complaints to the stage of popularity, of truth, to make ourselves heard beyond Despeñaperros.

We'll always have nobody. In those in which my brothers hoped his last strength, "everything is horrible but I still have his bullfighting, his singing, his lyrics, poetry, his voice. "

His voice, which now oppressed and illiterate before, we did ours. Not Chacón, or Caracol, or Mairena, and Pepe Marchena, Pepe Pinto or nor Paquera, not Fernanda, or Bernard, or shrimp. Only the voice is full of hope and vindication of Cabrero, Manuel Gerena and guitar of God made man, a De Lucia.

But soon cease and Tartessos generations of children and Blas Infante, clear Andalusian moon on her forehead, dark eyes Umayyad be today without a reference, without a point to watch, without a hope to to be heard. Football not sing the poets. In the bottle do not drink the winds of art. In the current polls are not giving voice to our needs. Just want to get ministers or speculate with our hope and our faith. And when the sun scorch and bust is the work to us, while others raise their voice of Andalusia, which is believed owners for stealing a few votes. And try to calm down with children and balladeers vicious and shameful unspeakable in vomitivos regional channels that are a window to the south. ! Topic typical .!!!!

songs not heard on warm summer evenings, or caroling campanilleros bottomed bottle of anise, nor is there Flemish Christmas, or any week is as good because no one remembers and Manuel (who was the voice of humanity) and if such a Noel.

And Rafael de León, there is no "penalty or joy of love" that we identify with our own. Or any song that tells the stories that happen in the chest and that we do not express. Neither Parry nor Prophecies, and curse in daily desperation to "the day I was born."

The penultimate voice of the people was 19 December 2000. Claimed responsibility, citing, tuned and voiced to cut training for the people to the great poets of Andalusia. Created the hymn of the trash, called Betis. Salustiano call was made to tell the immigration problem. And between Havana and drop the penultimate songs of hope of Andalusia formed with water from New York, evaporated to Paseo de los Tristes provided above, then you must go to heaven.

Serve these lines of tribute.

And Henry died three days ago. Enrique Morente. There is no longer "Mane source or run, even at night," that eternal source is hidden and his voice knew where his lair, as he sang the verses of San Juan de la Cruz. But now there is only cold.

silent Cuñado The singer, hope dies, the town is silent, becomes gray, "so much struggle Pá na", the "live to die as one," the "both swim to drown in the bank" Who recover

Faith people?. When the singer is silent on us again boto stately tread, crush. When the singer weep silent as we have always done, but now without hope.

return to be the maids of the television series, which are always Andalusia.

return to Seville and thousands of Japanese ham. Again be lazy in the eyes of others.

return to be 40 degrees in the shade.

Volveremos a ser la patilla, la copa de fino y el polo rosa. “Sin plumas y cacareando. Como el Gallo de Morón”.

Volveremos a ser la gracia, pero para “derramarla por las vendimias del Roselló”.

¿Volveremos a ser lo que fuimos sin nadie que alce la voz?.

Yo seguiré mientras pueda siendo una cuerda vocal de tu voz , Andalucía.

Lo peor es cuando calla el cantor y no nos irradia la luz de sus cantares.

CUANDO CALLA EL CANTOR

José Luis Moruno Vázquez

18/12/2010.