¡Saludos! Greetings to all who visit this website. Students can enjoy the cultural videos and language components which will augment their studies of the Spanish language. Additional information related to the acquisition of the Spanish language is available through Dr. Jacobson's Scripps Ranch High School Website at http://srhsfalcons.org/apps/pages/index.jsp?uREC_ID=111867&type=u&pREC_ID=98323
Welcome to Fall 2012 Semester
Congratulations to Dr. Jacobson's Spanish 1-2 students whose majority in every class achieved the superior level of poficiency on the district's 'End of Course Exam'.
POETRY
And it was at that age...
Poetry arrived in search of me.
I don't know,
I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when, no,
they were not voices,
they were not words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned, from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires or returning alone,
there I was without countenance
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say,
my mouth
had no way with names my eyes were blind,
and something started
in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering that fire and I wrote the first faint line, faint,
without substance, pure nonsense,
pure wisdom of someone who knows
nothing,
and suddenly I saw the heavens unfastened
and open,
planets, palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled with arrows,
fire and flowers,
the winding night,
the universe.
And I, infinitesimal being, confused with the great starry void,
likeness, image of mystery,
I felt myself a pure part of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose
on the wind.
Pablo Neruda
Poesia
Y fue a esa edad...
Llegó la poesía
a buscarme.
No sé, no sé de dónde salió, de invierno o río.
No sé cómo ni cuándo,
no, no eran voces,
no eran palabras, ni silencio,
pero desde una calle me llamaba,
desde las ramas de la noche, de
pronto entre los otros,
entre fuegos violentos o regresando solo,
allí estaba sin rostro y me tocaba.
Yo no sabía qué decir,
mi boca no sabía nombrar, mis ojos eran ciegos, y algo golpeaba
en mi alma, fiebre o alas perdidas,
y me fui haciendo solo,
descifrando aquella quemadura,
y escribí la primera línea vaga,
vaga, sin cuerpo,
pura tontería,
pura sabiduría del que no sabe
nada,
y vi de pronto el cielo desgranado y abierto,
planetas, plantaciones palpitantes,
la sombra perforada,
acribillada por flechas, fuego y flores,
la noche arrolladora,
el universo.
Y yo, mínimo ser, ebrio del gran vacío constelado,
a semejanza, a imagen del misterio,
me sentí parte pura del abismo,
rodé con las estrellas,
mi corazón se desató en el viento.
- Pablo Neruda
POETRY
And it was at that age...
Poetry arrived in search of me.
I don't know,
I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when, no,
they were not voices,
they were not words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned, from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires or returning alone,
there I was without countenance
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say,
my mouth
had no way with names my eyes were blind,
and something started
in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering that fire and I wrote the first faint line, faint,
without substance, pure nonsense,
pure wisdom of someone who knows
nothing,
and suddenly I saw the heavens unfastened
and open,
planets, palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled with arrows,
fire and flowers,
the winding night,
the universe.
And I, infinitesimal being, confused with the great starry void,
likeness, image of mystery,
I felt myself a pure part of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose
on the wind.
Pablo Neruda
Poesia
Y fue a esa edad...
Llegó la poesía
a buscarme.
No sé, no sé de dónde salió, de invierno o río.
No sé cómo ni cuándo,
no, no eran voces,
no eran palabras, ni silencio,
pero desde una calle me llamaba,
desde las ramas de la noche, de
pronto entre los otros,
entre fuegos violentos o regresando solo,
allí estaba sin rostro y me tocaba.
Yo no sabía qué decir,
mi boca no sabía nombrar, mis ojos eran ciegos, y algo golpeaba
en mi alma, fiebre o alas perdidas,
y me fui haciendo solo,
descifrando aquella quemadura,
y escribí la primera línea vaga,
vaga, sin cuerpo,
pura tontería,
pura sabiduría del que no sabe
nada,
y vi de pronto el cielo desgranado y abierto,
planetas, plantaciones palpitantes,
la sombra perforada,
acribillada por flechas, fuego y flores,
la noche arrolladora,
el universo.
Y yo, mínimo ser, ebrio del gran vacío constelado,
a semejanza, a imagen del misterio,
me sentí parte pura del abismo,
rodé con las estrellas,
mi corazón se desató en el viento.
- Pablo Neruda