COMICS IN THE FORTIES SPAIN

In a tiny street of Tetuan, three little brothers face the momentous decision to eat an ounce of chocolate with your piece of bread, hard, or spend the pennies in a comic strip. 
To buy the new tebeo need seventy-five cents and are unhappy with buy one and shared possession of it. 
No, that's not an option, each must weigh the alternative of being left without breakfast, breadstick and ounce of chocolate a peseta, or invest the money he has given his mother for breakfast in a wonderful tebeo of "Antifaz Warrior" cartoon lasts forever cavil, and breadstick with chocolate we eat in an instant.
At the end they buy two and the breadstick and two ounces of chocolate spread among the three. 
Everything is clear secret, her mother can not find out who skip breakfast and go to school happy with his comics and almost empty belly. The life of these crios in Spain misery feeds on dreams, heroes, and neighborhood theaters. 
Child sitting in a cinema "pipero" cost a peseta fifty cents and was a constant aspiration for them that her mother pay them a weekly entry. 

Dreaming and living the adventures of the characters graphics transcurria life without too much upheaval in an environment of happiness apparent, unreal, it was for them the best of all worlds.

Wooden swords, stones, files to play "robaterrenos" in moist soil, to truque girls, and "camber" mixed boys and girls. Around him was manifest poverty, small houses and hovels without light or ventilation where whole families sometimes lived without running water or a toilet sharing between neighbors. These crios wondered the reason that his mother and many of her neighbors often seemed angry. Conducive to slap, or more, to their children when they got a shot. 

At the slightest, bam, slap and shut up. 

The next second forgotten the slap returned to her world of illusion, fantasy games and rereading dozens of times the same cartoons, exchanging their idols with cronies, or trying to catch a "fat bitch" (ten cents of peseta) to change the tebeo less appreciated in the kiosk on the corner. Sometimes instead of changing his precious treasure other than the kids in the neighborhood miracle could hire another graphic to another senior colleague who possessed an assorted collection coveted by all. The exibian deployed on the ground floor when it was dry, deployed and subjects with small shingle so that all the kids they were made salivating watching the dream stories of their heroes at your eyes.

Do not dreamed of cakes or chicken, only "Carpanta" imagined in their roasted chickens stories unachievable for him and all the guys in all neighborhoods. 
And they knew ?, cakes cakes? . 

Idea, cakes, candies or pastries were not identified in a hungry and tatty Spain where objects get some loaves of bread was almost impossible mission by price and scarcity. 

After the Second World War the shortage became really unbearable, Spain was isolated, locked as punishment for their support of Nazi losers. There was no international institution in which it was admitted, and the Marshall Plan of 1947 did not reach the Spanish lands as a result of their support forthe loser regime. 

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 The Marshall Plan (officially called European Recovery Program or ERP ) was the most important plan of the United States for the reconstruction of countries Europeans after World War II , which in turn was intended to contain a possible advance of communism .  

After six years of war, much of Europe was devastated and millions of people had died or been crippled. The fighting had occurred virtually everywhere, covering a much larger area than had been affected during theFirst World War. Because of aerial bombardment, most of the cities were severely damaged, especially the industrial areas that had been the main targets of these bombings. Berlin and Warsaw were mountains of rubble, and London and Rotterdam had been very harmed. The economic situation of the continent had come to nothing and millions of people were destitute.Although the episode of Dutch hunger of 1944 could be resolved, the general devastation of agriculture provoked a wave of hunger throughout Europe, compounded by the harsh winter of 1946 - 1947in northeastern Europe. They were also destroyed infrastructure such as the railways , thebridges and roads , which had been the main target of aerial bombardment, and many ships load had been sunk. The smallest municipalities had not suffered both the ravages of war, but the lack of transport networks had left practically isolated both physically and economically. 


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to the devastation of post - Civil War in Spain the European famine which hit exports in the years of war in Europe joined.
Once the Second World War these small exports came to an end, lacking own resources hunger, loneliness, international isolation against Dictatorial Fascist regime in Spain was absolute and total. 
Nobody wanted to do it traded nor a pariah country that had supported the regime of Nazi Germany, and poor survivors of a Spanish Civil War itself, trying to overcome the situation of the most unimaginable ways. It preyed all, not throwing anything, the dustbins were slow to fill up days, and when the "garbage truck" pulled by a mule passed through the dilapidated streets without pavement boys or flocked women lend the street with bucket in hand for it to be emptied into the truck.  

Summer plague was bearable because few products had any chance of rot.Any susceptible organic food being eaten in the family had disappeared stomachs and actually had very few things that can be thrown away.  
A small cart pulled by one or two mules was sufficient to cover residual needs of countless streets of the neighborhood. 
The cars were provided by the "rag pickers" called that charge to tour the neighborhoods, with permission from the authority and waste pile up in so-called "dumps" mushrooming by the dozen on the outskirts of the capital 'sneighborhoods.

For boys and girls in the neighborhood there was nothing more fun than Amalia down the street and get into the "dustbin" of the small area.Horganizaban there bonfires and urinated on them, he is rummaging in trash and always appeared a curious and useless object, as rag pickers had previously stockpiled rags, paper, or junk that could report some pesetas.

the gatufo

IN MADRID 1943

three children

Many years ago in a place called Spain, they lived three very young children who were brothers. 
Two girls and a boy who was the child's mother, and it was then much esteemed Having a male in families. 
Although there were not too mimes, he spent downright bad, hunger, deprivation, cold and lack of humor or patience with such misery, little was who received more love and cuddles, as they said their older sisters. This three children were not told anything, lived the life that Vien small always conducive to play and mischief that exasperated his mother who craned their money to make ends meet and not used to be in a good mood.


The father of these children were born in 1914, World War I , and his young son was also born in 1943, during World War II but in their environment, Spain, world war not too noticeable. 

After her, much worse after as the country was isolated with an international blockade have tacitly supported the losers, German forces and its bloody dictator who had previously helped the Spanish dictator hungry He spent anyway, with war and defeating the freely elected government of the second Republic. 


Spain was a poor country, hungry, repressive, where individual or collective liberties had been mown or arracandas rennet after a long civil war that pitted brother against brother, neighbors, family, friends and ended up with more than one million dead in battle and beyond, killed, massacred, buried anonymously by both sides in contention. 

After this there was a great repression by the victors, dictatorship, which claimed tens of thousands of lives and nobody dared to speak, assemble, or create conflicts of any order. 
There was no right to strike, assembly, association, and of course the political parties.
The "secret" secret as it was called, polícia requested documentation anywhere else when traveling by train or bus it was exaustivo control and strict. 

The shortage was extreme, it hata the point that ration cards were issued for chords commodities with the number of members of one family. 

He was going to the store when news came that a commodity had come, oil, potatoes, sugar, flour, salt, or other vital supplies to survive. 
There was also no coal or wood to light the fire and to cook. 
Meat was a luxury product, sparse, and the fish did not come to be regarded as the fishing fleet had disappeared. 


For these crios life seemed pleasant, were children at the end of the day and knew something else, at home there was hardly anything, no telephone, no washing machine, no refrigerator, or other appliance that will help in household chores . 
Second - hand radio, a few books inherited from his grandfather and nothing else. 

They went very cold in winter and suffocating in summer, as everyone then, and if they wanted to cool off in summer slept outdoors, drank a jug of mud and took naps at noon. 
With this it was enough, but not his parents who had seen better stages. 


These three brothers lived on the outskirts of Madrid, in the district of Tetuan, were privileged because his father worked all day in office two jobs. 
It was not manual worker, he got up at six thirty and returned at ten o'clock at night. 
When she got home her children were already in bed and was too tired to try to wake them up. 

Life in villages or small towns then was much worse because hardly anywork for the laborers when the fields had been washed away and there was no land grain harvest to plant. 


The black market and hoarding food was the common trend in all places, so that the prevailing dictatorship established a customs or barriers on the outskirts of the towns that impeded free movement of traffic or any food between different territories.
These organizations were called "office supplies" and were responsible to monitor, inspect and report abuses in the composition or distribution of commodities. 

Milk, wine is a watered - , oils, sugar mixed, there was coffee, chicory was ground as a coffee substitute and families used to be rationed bread, sugar, margarine, meat or any food that remediera widespread hunger. 

For these three children seemed to pass life full of adventure, did not know of life and hardship were part of the routine no hankering life changing forthe better because they simply did not know was that.
A better life than carrying nonsense ?, which were almost all day playing in the street after leaving school, and had a good time imagining they were heroes comics then, "The Warrior Mask" or " Roberto Alcazar and Pedrin "among many others. 
The myriad of comics that were published entoces those they liked were those of "Feats Bélicas" but were very expensive, they used to look at them with envy when they saw them at any kiosk of the neighborhood in thehands of others older than them kids. 

They collected trading cards of the films that premiered then and for them it was like film, arriving home was when they returned to the reality of scarcity and bad fumes.

The local cinema was his refuge and sought to go at least one day a week sessions for children, where the kids thronged the grounds of foot, seat, and they cared that to them just to watch a West or be with my mouth open watching the homes of Americans in a comedy of then.

 the gatufo

BELLEZA

Nada mas bello que una puesta de Sol en el mar, y cuando estas a miles de kilometros de casa visitando un país que nunca habías soñado conocer la puesta del Sol cobra todavía mas belleza.

Navegando en el Mar Báltico habiendo visto la capital de Suecia, Estocolmo, y camino de Tallín es una experiencia que nunca podré olvidar.

Tallín, ciudad de cuento de hadas más viéndola en un espléndido Agosto con una temperatura ideal tras haber presenciado esta puesta de Sol desde el barco enorme que hace el recorrido uniendo Estocolmo con Tallin.

Si alguna vez teneis oportunidad de hacer ese viaje no os lo perdaís.

el gatufo

CHARLAS EN GENERAL

Geriátrico, Centro de Mayores, o Residencia de Ancianos, cualquiera de los tres referencias es válida para los lugares que no hace demasiados años se llamaban "asilos" igual que donde iban a parar los pequeños sin padres, o de madres solteras que la sociedad puritana de no hace muchos años rechazaba, viendose algunas de estas madres sin recursos obligadas a llevar a sus  bebes a los "orfanatos".

Ya no usa la sociedad moderna, desalmada no obstante, esos apelativos a los lugares que antes eran considerados de no muy buenas formas.
Se va descubriendo que en los orfanatos y algunos colegios de religiosos se venian cometiendo las mayores iniquidades que imaginarse pueda, lo peor ademas del hecho en si es que eran tapadas por las jerarquias de la Iglesia u otros estamentos sociales
que pasaban por ser honestos además de honrados.

Pero no es este el tema que deseo contaros, afortunadamente los asilos son residencias estupendamente atendidas y gestionadas, muy caras eso si, pero las ancianas y ancianos son muy bien atendidos con una paciencia infinita por el personal que trabaja en estos lugares, generalmente son emigrantes de sudamerica, o latinos, y a mi personalmente me encanta ver como son tratados los vejetes que a veces descargan sobre ellos sus frustaciones o desengaños cuando no son visitados por sus parientes y se ven muy solos.

Ayer que fuí a ver a mi esposa Cuca, pude charlar con una residente que lleva ocho o nueve años en la residencia. Está supercontenta, e ingresó voluntariamente cuando falleció su marido.
Con 81 años su cabeza y su cuerpo funcionan la mar de bien, está lo que se denomina "valida total"....no me gusta las palabras válido o no válido pero es como los clasifican en estos lugares.
Teresa nos estuvo contando sobre su vida, su trabajo antes de hacerse mayor, y que voluntariamente se fué a esta residencia pues había trabajado en ella y sabía bién el terreno que pisaba.

Tiene el suficiente patrimonio para pagar un dineral por su estancia en una habitación individual, no obstante sin hijos para que quiere su dinero, además que sus familiares le animan a que se lo gaste y esté lo mas cómoda posible.

Cuca estaba muy bien, charlamos mucho ella y yo como siempre, y me vine a casa la mar de contento.

el gatufo

A SPANISH LEGEND "MOUNT OF SOULS"

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 28, 2018

A LEGEND "Mount de las Animas"

Dates are appropriate to post a letter written by the great Gustavo Adolfo Becquer legend, hopefully not have copyright, writer and Spanish poet of romanticism.


Mount of the Bores, of Gustavo Adolfo Becquer The night of the dead woke me to not know what time the bells twice; its monotonous and eternal clang brought me to mind this tradition that I heard recently in Soria. I tried to sleep again; impossible! Once stung, imagination is a horse that runs wild and that does not serve throw the reins. By hang I decided to write it, as indeed it did. I heard it in the same place where it happened, and I wrote back sometimes head in fear when I felt gnashing my balcony crystals, shaken by the cold night air. Be that what you want, there is, as the horse drinks. I -Atad dogs; Do signal with the tubes for hunters gather, and demos around the city. Night is coming, It is a day of All Saints and we are in Monte de las Animas. -As soon! -A be another day, do not let me conclude with this flock of wolves Moncayo snows have driven from their burrows; but today it is impossible. Shortly prayer will sound the Templars, and the souls of the dead will begin to ring his bell in the chapel of the mountain. -¡En the ruined chapel! Bah! You want to scare me? No, beautiful cousin; you ignore what is happening in this country because not yet a year ago that has come to him from afar. Restrain your mare, I will make mine the pass, and throughout the way you tell the story. The pages gathered in joyous and boisterous groups; the counts of Borges and Alcudiel mounted their magnificent horses, and together they followed their children Beatrice and Alonso, They are preceding the procession from a distance. For the duration of the way, Alonso told in these terms the promised story: That mountain is now called the Animas, belonged to the Templars, whose convent see there, at the river bank. Templar were warriors and religious at once. Soria conquered the Arabs, the king had come from distant lands to defend the city by the side of the bridge, making it noticeable injury to his nobles of Castile; so they had to defend themselves known as the conquered alone. Among the knights of the new and powerful Order and the nobles of the city fermented for a few years and finally exploded, a deep hatred. The former had bounded the mountain where abundant reserved to meet their needs and contribute to their pleasures hunting; the latter determined to organize a raid on the preserve, despite strict prohibitions of the clergy with spurs, as they called their enemies. The voice of challenge ensued, and nothing was party to stop one in his hobby of hunting and others in their efforts to hinder it. The proposed expedition was carried out. remembered not her beasts; before the present would have dragged many mothers mourning for their respective children. That was not a hunt, it was a gruesome battle: the mountain was littered with corpses, wolves who wanted to exterminate had a bloody feast. Finally, the king's authority intervened: Mount, damn occasion of so many misfortunes, was declared abandoned, and the chapel of religious, located in the same mountain and in whose court together friends and enemies were buried, He began to ruin. Since then say that when night comes departed alone hear bend the chapel bell, and that the souls of the dead, wrapped in shreds of their shrouds, run like a fantastic hunt among the bushes and brambles. Braman frightened deer, wolves howl, snakes give hideous whistles, and the next day have been printed in the snow traces of the fleshless feet of the skeletons. Soria why we call the Monte de las Animas, and so I Dear Alonso's relationship ended just when the two young men reached the end of the bridge that leads to the city on that side. There they waited the rest of the party, which, after the two riders incorporárseles, missed by the narrow and dark streets of Soria. II servers had just lifting the cloth; fireplace high Gothic palace of the Counts of Alcudiel live off a glow illuminating some groups of ladies and gentlemen around the fire talking familiarly, and the wind whipped the leaded glass warheads lounge. Solas two people appeared outside the general conversation: Beatriz Alonso: Beatriz kept her eyes, lost in a vague thought, the whims of the flame. Alonso looked at the reflection of the fire sparkling in the blue eyes of Beatrice. Both save a deep silence not so many time ago. The owners concerned, regarding the night of the dead, dark stories that appeared spectra and represent the title role; and the bells of the churches of Soria bent far away with a monotonous and sad tolling. -Beautiful raw Alonso said finally breaking the long silence in which they got together,; soon we will separate ourselves perhaps forever; the arid plains of Castile, his rough and warlike customs, their simple habits and patriarchal know you do not like; I heard you sigh several times, perhaps for some distant heartthrob your lordship. Beatriz waved cold indifference; a whole woman character was revealed in that disdainful contraction of her thin lips. Perhaps by the pomp of the French court; where you've lived here he hastened to add the young man. In one way or another, I feel that I shall soon lose ... When we separated, I want llevases one of my memory ... Do you remember when we went to the temple to give thanks to God for having restored health you came for this land? The jewel that held the pen my cap captivated your attention. How beautiful it would be holding a veil over your dark hair! It has already lit the of a bride; My father gave it to who gave me being, and she took him to the altar ... You want it? I do not know yours in the beautiful- she said, but in my country received a pledge commits a will. Only one day a present of hands ceremony of a mourner must be accepted ... that can still go to Rome without returning empty-handed. Icy tone in which Beatriz spoke these words troubled a moment the young man calm after said sadly, I know premium; but today celebrated All Saints, and yours at all; Today is a day of ceremonies and present. Will you accept mine? Beatriz slightly bit her lips and reached out to take the jewel, without a word. The two young men fell silent again, and returned to hear the voice of old who spoke of witches and goblins and the hum of air rustled glasses warheads waterfall, and the monotonous sad tolling of bells. After a few minutes, the interrupted dialogue knotted around this: And before the end of the day of All Saints, that yours and mine is held, and can, without tying up your will, leave me a I remember, you will not? He said digging a look at her cousin, who shone like lightning, illuminated by a diabolical thought. -Why not? She said it was touching his right shoulder to find something among the folds of her wide sleeve velvet gold embroidery ... Then, with a childlike expression of feeling, added: 'Remember the blue band that took hunting today, and not know what color emblem told me it was the currency of your soul? -Yes. Well ... it is lost! He has been lost, and thought dejártela as a souvenir. -¡Se has lost !, and where? Alonso said getting up from his seat and with an indescribable expression of fear and hope. I do not know .... in the case mount. -¡En the Monte de las Animas pale and muttered flopping on sitial-; on the Mount of the Bores! Then he continued breathlessly and muffled voice: 'You know, because you've heard a thousand times; in the city, in Castile, They call me the king of the hunters. Not having been able to prove my strength in battle, as my ascendant, I have led this fun image of war, all the vigor of my youth, all the ardor, hereditary in my race. The carpet beneath their feet your feet are spoils of beasts that have died by my hand. I know their lairs and customs; and I fought with them day and night, on foot and on horseback, alone and whipped, and no one will say that he has seen me run away from danger at any time. Another night the band would fly, and fly joyful as a party; and yet, tonight ... tonight. What I ocultártelo ?, I have fear. Do you hear? The bells ring, prayer sounded in San Juan del Duero, the souls of Mount now begin to lift their yellowing skulls from weeds that cover their graves ... the souls !, whose mere sight of horror can freeze the blood of the bravest, turn white hair or steal in the whirlwind of his fantastic career as a leaf carried by the wind without knowing where. While she spoke, an imperceptible smile crossed the lips of Beatrice, that when he had finished said with an indifferent tone, while stoking the hearth where wood jumped and crackled, throwing sparks of many colors Oh! That in any way. What folly! To go to the mountain now for such a trifle! Such a dark night, night of the dead, and setting the path of wolves! Saying that last sentence, he leaned in such a special way that Alonso could not fail to understand all its bitter irony, he moved like a spring to his feet, ran his hand across his forehead, to tear the fear that was in his head and not his heart, and firm voice exclaimed, turning to the beautiful, which was still leaning over the hearth fire lingering in revolver Goodbye Beatriz, farewell ... See you soon . I -¡Alonso! Alonso! it said, turning quickly; but when he wanted or pretended to want to stop him, the young man had disappeared. A few minutes later the sound of a horse galloping away heard. The beautiful, with a radiant expression of satisfied pride that colored her cheeks, lent attentive ear to the rumor that weakened, which was lost, which finally faded. Old, meanwhile, continued their tales appeared souls; The air hummed in the glasses of the balcony and the bells of the city bent in the distance. III had spent one hour, two, three; midnight was about to ring, and Beatriz retired to his oratory. Alonso did not return, not return, when in less than an hour could have done. -¡Habrá been afraid! She cried the young man closing his prayer book and heading to his bed after trying futilely mumbling some prayers that the church consecrated on the day of the dead that no longer exist. After turning the lamp and crossed double silk curtains, she slept; he slept with a restless, light, nervous sleep. Twelve sounded on the clock Postigo. Beatriz dreamily heard the vibrations of the bell, slow, deaf, very sad, and opened her eyes. I thought I had heard a couple of them say his name; but far, far away, and a muffled and mournful voice. The wind moaned in the windowpanes. It will be the said wind; and putting his hand over his heart, he tried to calm down. But his heart was beating with increasing violence. Larch doors of the oratory had crunch on its hinges with a high-pitched whine long and loud. A first and then the other closer, all the doors that gave way to his room were ringing in their order, these grave with a dull noise, those with a long crispador regret. Then silence, a silence full of strange rumors, the silence of midnight, with a monotonous murmur of distant water; distant barking of dogs, confused voices, unintelligible words; echoes of footsteps coming and going, rustling of clothes crawling, sighs drowning, tiring breaths almost feel, involuntary shudders that announce the presence of something unseen and whose approach is noticeable however in the dark. Beatriz, motionless, trembling, head forward out of the curtains and listened for a moment. Thousand different noises heard; the hand through the forehead, tornaba to listen: nothing, silence. He saw with the phosphorescence of the pupil in nervous crises, such as lumps moving in all directions; and when dilating the fixed at one point, nothing, dark, impenetrable shadows. -Bah! he exclaimed, turning to lay his head on the pillow beautiful blue satin of lecho-; I'm as scared as those poor people, whose heart throbs terror under armor, hearing a conseja of ghosts? And closing his eyes tried to sleep ...; but in vain he had made an effort on itself. He soon rejoined paler, more restless, more terrified. It was no longer an illusion: brocade draperies had touched the door to separate, and slow footsteps sounded on the carpet; the sound of those footsteps was deaf, almost imperceptible, but continuous, and his compass creak sounded something like wood or bone. And they approached, approached, and the kneeler was on the edge of his bed moved. Beatriz uttered a piercing scream, and snuggling on clothing that covered her, hid her head and held her breath. The air whipped glasses balcony; water from the distant source fell and fell with an eternal and monotonous sound; barking dogs dilate in gusty air, and the bells of the city of Soria, some near, some distant, bend sadly for the souls of the dead. This happened one hour, two hours, a century, because the night that seemed eternal Beatrice. Finally he blunted the dawn: return of his fear, he opened his eyes for the first rays of light. After a sleepless night and terrors, it's so beautiful the clear white light of day! He parted the curtains of silk bed, and was about to laugh at his past fears, when suddenly a cold sweat covered her body, her eyes became loose and deathly pale faded her cheeks on the kneeler had been bloody and torn the blue band that lost in the woods, the blue band that went looking for Alonso. When his servants came noticiarle terrified to death of the firstborn of Alcudiel that morning had appeared devoured by wolves among the weeds of Monte de las Animas, they found her motionless, contorted, clutching with both hands at one of the columns ebony bed, eyes bulging, mouth ajar; white lips, stiff limbs, dead; Dead horror! IV They say that after this event happened, a stray hunter who spent the night of the dead could not get out of Monte de las Animas, and that the day before he died, he could tell what he saw, said horrible things. Among others, he said he saw the skeletons of the ancient Templars and the nobles of Soria buried in the atrium of the chapel up to the point of prayer with a horrible crash, and gentlemen on the bones of horses, chasing her like a beast a beautiful, pale and disheveled woman with bare and bloody feet, and throwing cries of horror, circled around the tomb of Alonso. FINISH grasped with both hands to one of the columns ebony bed, eyes bulging, mouth ajar; white lips, stiff limbs, dead; Dead horror! IV They say that after this event happened, a stray hunter who spent the night of the dead could not get out of Monte de las Animas, and that the day before he died, he could tell what he saw, said horrible things. Among others, he said he saw the skeletons of the ancient Templars and the nobles of Soria buried in the atrium of the chapel up to the point of prayer with a horrible crash, and gentlemen on the bones of horses, chasing her like a beast a beautiful, pale and disheveled woman with bare and bloody feet, and throwing cries of horror, circled around the tomb of Alonso. FINISH grasped with both hands to one of the columns ebony bed, eyes bulging, mouth ajar; white lips, stiff limbs, dead; Dead horror! IV They say that after this event happened, a stray hunter who spent the night of the dead could not get out of Monte de las Animas, and that the day before he died, he could tell what he saw, said horrible things. Among others, he said he saw the skeletons of the ancient Templars and the nobles of Soria buried in the atrium of the chapel up to the point of prayer with a horrible crash, and gentlemen on the bones of horses, chasing her like a beast a beautiful, pale and disheveled woman with bare and bloody feet, and throwing cries of horror, circled around the tomb of Alonso. FINISH bulging eyes, mouth ajar; white lips, stiff limbs, dead; Dead horror! IV They say that after this event happened, a stray hunter who spent the night of the dead could not get out of Monte de las Animas, and that the day before he died, he could tell what he saw, said horrible things. Among others, he said he saw the skeletons of the ancient Templars and the nobles of Soria buried in the atrium of the chapel up to the point of prayer with a horrible crash, and gentlemen on the bones of horses, chasing her like a beast a beautiful, pale and disheveled woman with bare and bloody feet, and throwing cries of horror, circled around the tomb of Alonso. FINISH bulging eyes, mouth ajar; white lips, stiff limbs, dead; Dead horror! IV They say that after this incident occurred, a lost hunter who spent the night of the dead could not get out of Monte de las Animas, and that the day before he died, he could tell what he saw, said horrible things. Among others, he said he saw the skeletons of the ancient Templars and the nobles of Soria buried in the atrium of the chapel up to the point of prayer with a horrible crash, and gentlemen on the bones of horses, chasing her like a beast a beautiful, pale and disheveled woman with bare and bloody feet, and throwing cries of horror, circled around the tomb of Alonso. FINISH Dead horror! IV They say that after this event happened, a stray hunter who spent the night of the dead could not get out of Monte de las Animas, and that the day before he died, he could tell what he saw, said horrible things. Among others, he said he saw the skeletons of the ancient Templars and the nobles of Soria buried in the atrium of the chapel up to the point of prayer with a horrible crash, and gentlemen on the bones of horses, chasing her like a beast a beautiful, pale and disheveled woman with bare and bloody feet, and throwing cries of horror, circled around the tomb of Alonso. FINISH Dead horror! IV They say that after this event happened, a stray hunter who spent the night of the dead could not get out of Monte de las Animas, and that the day before he died, he could tell what he saw, said horrible things. Among others, he said he saw the skeletons of the ancient Templars and the nobles of Soria buried in the atrium of the chapel up to the point of prayer with a horrible crash, and gentlemen on the bones of horses, chasing her like a beast a beautiful, pale and disheveled woman with bare and bloody feet, and throwing cries of horror, circled around the tomb of Alonso. FINISH before he died, he could tell what they saw, said horrible things. Among others, he said he saw the skeletons of the ancient Templars and the nobles of Soria buried in the atrium of the chapel up to the point of prayer with a horrible crash, and gentlemen on the bones of horses, chasing her like a beast a beautiful, pale and disheveled woman with bare and bloody feet, and throwing cries of horror, circled around the tomb of Alonso. FINISH before he died, he could tell what they saw, said horrible things. Among others, he said he saw the skeletons of the ancient Templars and the nobles of Soria buried in the atrium of the chapel up to the point of prayer with a horrible crash, and gentlemen on the bones of horses, chasing her like a beast a beautiful, pale and disheveled woman with bare and bloody feet, and throwing cries of horror, circled around the tomb of Alonso. FINISH pale and disheveled, with bare and bloody feet, and throwing cries of horror, circled around the tomb of Alonso. FINISH pale and disheveled, with bare and bloody feet, and throwing cries of horror, circled around the tomb of Alonso. FINISH

To all of you who like the Spanish-Castilian sure this story or legend will be liked. Gustavo Adolfo Dominguez Bastida Claudio (Sevilla, February 17, 1836 Madrid, December 22, 1870), better known as Gustavo Adolfo Becquer ...

Movements: Romanticism , Symbolism

Cause of death: Tuberculosis

Birth name: Gustavo Adolfo Claudio ...

Nationality: Spanish

Legends of Becquer  · Category: Gustavus Adolphus ...  · Rimas  ·

To me the author Gustavo Adolfo Becque, Rimas y Leyendas, I love it. I hope you pique curiosity and can be an incentive to read this author born in the beautiful Spanish city of Sevilla. 

the gatufo

QUIERES ASUSTARME?

Las fechas son apropiadas para postear una leyenda escrita por el gran Gustavo Adolfo Becquer, esperemos que no tenga derechos de autor, escritor y poeta del romanticismo español.


El monte de las ánimas, de Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer La noche de difuntos me despertó a no sé qué hora el doble de las campanas; su tañido monótono y eterno me trajo a las mientes esta tradición que oí hace poco en Soria. Intenté dormir de nuevo; ¡imposible! Una vez aguijoneada, la imaginación es un caballo que se desboca y al que no sirve tirarle de la rienda. Por pasar el rato me decidí a escribirla, como en efecto lo hice. Yo la oí en el mismo lugar en que acaeció, y la he escrito volviendo algunas veces la cabeza con miedo cuando sentía crujir los cristales de mi balcón, estremecidos por el aire frío de la noche. Sea de ello lo que quiera, ahí va, como el caballo de copas. I –Atad los perros; haced la señal con las trompas para que se reúnan los cazadores, y demos la vuelta a la ciudad. La noche se acerca, es día de Todos los Santos y estamos en el Monte de las Ánimas. –¡Tan pronto! –A ser otro día, no dejara yo de concluir con ese rebaño de lobos que las nieves del Moncayo han arrojado de sus madrigueras; pero hoy es imposible. Dentro de poco sonará la oración en los Templarios, y las ánimas de los difuntos comenzarán a tañer su campana en la capilla del monte. –¡En esa capilla ruinosa! ¡Bah! ¿Quieres asustarme? –No, hermosa prima; tú ignoras cuanto sucede en este país, porque aún no hace un año que has venido a él desde muy lejos. Refrena tu yegua, yo también pondré la mía al paso, y mientras dure el camino te contaré esa historia. Los pajes se reunieron en alegres y bulliciosos grupos; los condes de Borges y de Alcudiel montaron en sus magníficos caballos, y todos juntos siguieron a sus hijos Beatriz y Alonso, que precedían la comitiva a bastante distancia. Mientras duraba el camino, Alonso narró en estos términos la prometida historia: –Ese monte que hoy llaman de las Ánimas, pertenecía a los Templarios, cuyo convento ves allí, a la margen del río. Los Templarios eran guerreros y religiosos a la vez. Conquistada Soria a los árabes, el rey los hizo venir de lejanas tierras para defender la ciudad por la parte del puente, haciendo en ello notable agravio a sus nobles de Castilla; que así hubieran solos sabido defenderla como solos la conquistaron. Entre los caballeros de la nueva y poderosa Orden y los hidalgos de la ciudad fermentó por algunos años, y estalló al fin, un odio profundo. Los primeros tenían acotado ese monte, donde reservaban caza abundante para satisfacer sus necesidades y contribuir a sus placeres; los segundos determinaron organizar una gran batida en el coto, a pesar de las severas prohibiciones de los clérigos con espuelas, como llamaban a sus enemigos. Cundió la voz del reto, y nada fue parte a detener a los unos en su manía de cazar y a los otros en su empeño de estorbarlo. La proyectada expedición se llevó a cabo. No se acordaron de ella las fieras; antes la tendrían presente tantas madres como arrastraron sendos lutos por sus hijos. Aquello no fue una cacería, fue una batalla espantosa: el monte quedó sembrado de cadáveres, los lobos a quienes se quiso exterminar tuvieron un sangriento festín. Por último, intervino la autoridad del rey: el monte, maldita ocasión de tantas desgracias, se declaró abandonado, y la capilla de los religiosos, situada en el mismo monte y en cuyo atrio se enterraron juntos amigos y enemigos, comenzó a arruinarse. Desde entonces dicen que cuando llega la noche de difuntos se oye doblar sola la campana de la capilla, y que las ánimas de los muertos, envueltas en jirones de sus sudarios, corren como en una cacería fantástica por entre las breñas y los zarzales. Los ciervos braman espantados, los lobos aúllan, las culebras dan horrorosos silbidos, y al otro día se han visto impresas en la nieve las huellas de los descarnados pies de los esqueletos. Por eso en Soria le llamamos el Monte de las Ánimas, y por eso he querid La relación de Alonso concluyó justamente cuando los dos jóvenes llegaban al extremo del puente que da paso a la ciudad por aquel lado. Allí esperaron al resto de la comitiva, la cual, después de incorporárseles los dos jinetes, se perdió por entre las estrechas y oscuras calles de Soria. II Los servidores acababan de levantar los manteles; la alta chimenea gótica del palacio de los condes de Alcudiel despedía un vivo resplandor iluminando algunos grupos de damas y caballeros que alrededor de la lumbre conversaban familiarmente, y el viento azotaba los emplomados vidrios de las ojivas del salón. Solas dos personas parecían ajenas a la conversación general: Beatriz y Alonso: Beatriz seguía con los ojos, absorta en un vago pensamiento, los caprichos de la llama. Alonso miraba el reflejo de la hoguera chispear en las azules pupilas de Beatriz. Ambos guardaban hacía rato un profundo silencio. Las dueñas referían, a propósito de la noche de difuntos, cuentos tenebrosos en que los espectros y los aparecidos representaban el principal papel; y las campanas de las iglesias de Soria doblaban a lo lejos con un tañido monótono y triste. –Hermosa prima –exclamó al fin Alonso rompiendo el largo silencio en que se encontraban–; pronto vamos a separarnos tal vez para siempre; las áridas llanuras de Castilla, sus costumbres toscas y guerreras, sus hábitos sencillos y patriarcales sé que no te gustan; te he oído suspirar varias veces, acaso por algún galán de tu lejano señorío. Beatriz hizo un gesto de fría indiferencia; todo un carácter de mujer se reveló en aquella desdeñosa contracción de sus delgados labios. –Tal vez por la pompa de la corte francesa; donde hasta aquí has vivido –se apresuró a añadir el joven–. De un modo o de otro, presiento que no tardaré en perderte... Al separarnos, quisiera que llevases una memoria mía... ¿Te acuerdas cuando fuimos al templo a dar gracias a Dios por haberte devuelto la salud que viniste a buscar a esta tierra? El joyel que sujetaba la pluma de mi gorra cautivó tu atención. ¡Qué hermoso estaría sujetando un velo sobre tu oscura cabellera! Ya ha prendido el de una desposada; mi padre se lo regaló a la que me dio el ser, y ella lo llevó al altar... ¿Lo quieres? –No sé en el tuyo –contestó la hermosa–, pero en mi país una prenda recibida compromete una voluntad. Sólo en un día de ceremonia debe aceptarse un presente de manos de un deudo... que aún puede ir a Roma sin volver con las manos vacías. El acento helado con que Beatriz pronunció estas palabras turbó un momento al joven, que después de serenarse dijo con tristeza: –Lo sé prima; pero hoy se celebran Todos los Santos, y el tuyo ante todos; hoy es día de ceremonias y presentes. ¿Quieres aceptar el mío? Beatriz se mordió ligeramente los labios y extendió la mano para tomar la joya, sin añadir una palabra. Los dos jóvenes volvieron a quedarse en silencio, y volviose a oír la cascada voz de las viejas que hablaban de brujas y de trasgos y el zumbido del aire que hacía crujir los vidrios de las ojivas, y el triste monótono doblar de las campanas. Al cabo de algunos minutos, el interrumpido diálogo tornó a anudarse de este modo: –Y antes de que concluya el día de Todos los Santos, en que así como el tuyo se celebra el mío, y puedes, sin atar tu voluntad, dejarme un recuerdo, ¿no lo harás? –dijo él clavando una mirada en la de su prima, que brilló como un relámpago, iluminada por un pensamiento diabólico. –¿Por qué no? –exclamó ésta llevándose la mano al hombro derecho como para buscar alguna cosa entre las pliegues de su ancha manga de terciopelo bordado de oro... Después, con una infantil expresión de sentimiento, añadió: –¿Te acuerdas de la banda azul que llevé hoy a la cacería, y que por no sé qué emblema de su color me dijiste que era la divisa de tu alma? –Sí. –Pues... ¡se ha perdido! Se ha perdido, y pensaba dejártela como un recuerdo. –¡Se ha perdido!, ¿y dónde? –preguntó Alonso incorporándose de su asiento y con una indescriptible expresión de temor y esperanza. –No sé.... en el monte acaso. –¡En el Monte de las Ánimas –murmuró palideciendo y dejándose caer sobre el sitial–; en el Monte de las Ánimas! Luego prosiguió con voz entrecortada y sorda: –Tú lo sabes, porque lo habrás oído mil veces; en la ciudad, en toda Castilla, me llaman el rey de los cazadores. No habiendo aún podido probar mis fuerzas en los combates, como mis ascendentes, he llevado a esta diversión, imagen de la guerra, todos los bríos de mi juventud, todo el ardor, hereditario en mi raza. La alfombra que pisan tus pies son despojos de fieras que he muerto por mi mano. Yo conozco sus guaridas y sus costumbres; y he combatido con ellas de día y de noche, a pie y a caballo, solo y en batida, y nadie dirá que me ha visto huir del peligro en ninguna ocasión. Otra noche volaría por esa banda, y volaría gozoso como a una fiesta; y, sin embargo, esta noche... esta noche. ¿A qué ocultártelo?, tengo miedo. ¿Oyes? Las campanas doblan, la oración ha sonado en San Juan del Duero, las ánimas del monte comenzarán ahora a levantar sus amarillentos cráneos de entre las malezas que cubren sus fosas... ¡las ánimas!, cuya sola vista puede helar de horror la sangre del más valiente, tornar sus cabellos blancos o arrebatarle en el torbellino de su fantástica carrera como una hoja que arrastra el viento sin que se sepa adónde. Mientras el joven hablaba, una sonrisa imperceptible se dibujó en los labios de Beatriz, que cuando hubo concluido exclamó con un tono indiferente y mientras atizaba el fuego del hogar, donde saltaba y crujía la leña, arrojando chispas de mil colores: –¡Oh! Eso de ningún modo. ¡Qué locura! ¡Ir ahora al monte por semejante friolera! ¡Una noche tan oscura, noche de difuntos, y cuajado el camino de lobos! Al decir esta última frase, la recargó de un modo tan especial, que Alonso no pudo menos de comprender toda su amarga ironía, movido como por un resorte se puso de pie, se pasó la mano por la frente, como para arrancarse el miedo que estaba en su cabeza y no en su corazón, y con voz firme exclamó, dirigiéndose a la hermosa, que estaba aún inclinada sobre el hogar entreteniéndose en revolver el fuego: –Adiós Beatriz, adiós... Hasta pronto. –¡Alonso! ¡Alonso! –dijo ésta, volviéndose con rapidez; pero cuando quiso o aparentó querer detenerle, el joven había desaparecido. A los pocos minutos se oyó el rumor de un caballo que se alejaba al galope. La hermosa, con una radiante expresión de orgullo satisfecho que coloreó sus mejillas, prestó atento oído a aquel rumor que se debilitaba, que se perdía, que se desvaneció por último. Las viejas, en tanto, continuaban en sus cuentos de ánimas aparecidas; el aire zumbaba en los vidrios del balcón y las campanas de la ciudad doblaban a lo lejos. III Había pasado una hora, dos, tres; la media noche estaba a punto de sonar, y Beatriz se retiró a su oratorio. Alonso no volvía, no volvía, cuando en menos de una hora pudiera haberlo hecho. –¡Habrá tenido miedo! –exclamó la joven cerrando su libro de oraciones y encaminándose a su lecho, después de haber intentado inútilmente murmurar algunos de los rezos que la iglesia consagra en el día de difuntos a los que ya no existen. Después de haber apagado la lámpara y cruzado las dobles cortinas de seda, se durmió; se durmió con un sueño inquieto, ligero, nervioso. Las doce sonaron en el reloj del Postigo. Beatriz oyó entre sueños las vibraciones de la campana, lentas, sordas, tristísimas, y entreabrió los ojos. Creía haber oído a par de ellas pronunciar su nombre; pero lejos, muy lejos, y por una voz ahogada y doliente. El viento gemía en los vidrios de la ventana. –Será el viento –dijo; y poniéndose la mano sobre el corazón, procuró tranquilizarse. Pero su corazón latía cada vez con más violencia. Las puertas de alerce del oratorio habían crujido sobre sus goznes, con un chirrido agudo prolongado y estridente. Primero unas y luego las otras más cercanas, todas las puertas que daban paso a su habitación iban sonando por su orden, éstas con un ruido sordo y grave, aquéllas con un lamento largo y crispador. Después silencio, un silencio lleno de rumores extraños, el silencio de la media noche, con un murmullo monótono de agua distante; lejanos ladridos de perros, voces confusas, palabras ininteligibles; ecos de pasos que van y vienen, crujir de ropas que se arrastran, suspiros que se ahogan, respiraciones fatigosas que casi se sienten, estremecimientos involuntarios que anuncian la presencia de algo que no se ve y cuya aproximación se nota no obstante en la oscuridad. Beatriz, inmóvil, temblorosa, adelantó la cabeza fuera de las cortinillas y escuchó un momento. Oía mil ruidos diversos; se pasaba la mano por la frente, tornaba a escuchar: nada, silencio. Veía, con esa fosforescencia de la pupila en las crisis nerviosas, como bultos que se movían en todas direcciones; y cuando dilatándolas las fijaba en un punto, nada, oscuridad, las sombras impenetrables. –¡Bah! –exclamó, volviendo a recostar su hermosa cabeza sobre la almohada de raso azul del lecho–; ¿soy yo tan miedosa como esas pobres gentes, cuyo corazón palpita de terror bajo una armadura, al oír una conseja de aparecidos? Y cerrando los ojos intentó dormir...; pero en vano había hecho un esfuerzo sobre sí misma. Pronto volvió a incorporarse más pálida, más inquieta, más aterrada. Ya no era una ilusión: las colgaduras de brocado de la puerta habían rozado al separarse, y unas pisadas lentas sonaban sobre la alfombra; el rumor de aquellas pisadas era sordo, casi imperceptible, pero continuado, y a su compás se oía crujir una cosa como madera o hueso. Y se acercaban, se acercaban, y se movió el reclinatorio que estaba a la orilla de su lecho. Beatriz lanzó un grito agudo, y arrebujándose en la ropa que la cubría, escondió la cabeza y contuvo el aliento. El aire azotaba los vidrios del balcón; el agua de la fuente lejana caía y caía con un rumor eterno y monótono; los ladridos de los perros se dilataban en las ráfagas del aire, y las campanas de la ciudad de Soria, unas cerca, otras distantes, doblan tristemente por las ánimas de los difuntos. Así pasó una hora, dos, la noche, un siglo, porque la noche aquella pareció eterna a Beatriz. Al fin despuntó la aurora: vuelta de su temor, entreabrió los ojos a los primeros rayos de la luz. Después de una noche de insomnio y de terrores, ¡es tan hermosa la luz clara y blanca del día! Separó las cortinas de seda del lecho, y ya se disponía a reírse de sus temores pasados, cuando de repente un sudor frío cubrió su cuerpo, sus ojos se desencajaron y una palidez mortal descoloró sus mejillas: sobre el reclinatorio había visto sangrienta y desgarrada la banda azul que perdiera en el monte, la banda azul que fue a buscar Alonso. Cuando sus servidores llegaron despavoridos a noticiarle la muerte del primogénito de Alcudiel, que a la mañana había aparecido devorado por los lobos entre las malezas del Monte de las Ánimas, la encontraron inmóvil, crispada, asida con ambas manos a una de las columnas de ébano del lecho, desencajados los ojos, entreabierta la boca; blancos los labios, rígidos los miembros, muerta; ¡muerta de horror! IV Dicen que después de acaecido este suceso, un cazador extraviado que pasó la noche de difuntos sin poder salir del Monte de las Ánimas, y que al otro día, antes de morir, pudo contar lo que viera, refirió cosas horribles. Entre otras, asegura que vio a los esqueletos de los antiguos templarios y de los nobles de Soria enterrados en el atrio de la capilla levantarse al punto de la oración con un estrépito horrible, y, caballeros sobre osamentas de corceles, perseguir como a una fiera a una mujer hermosa, pálida y desmelenada, que con los pies desnudos y sangrientos, y arrojando gritos de horror, daba vueltas alrededor de la tumba de Alonso. FIN

A todos vosotros que os gusta el Español-Castellano seguro que este relato o leyenda os habrá gustado.


Gustavo Adolfo Claudio Domínguez Bastida (Sevilla, 17 de febrero de 1836-Madrid, 22 de diciembre de 1870),​ más conocido como Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer, ...

Movimientos‎: ‎Romanticismo‎, ‎Simbolismo

Causa de la muerte‎: ‎Tuberculosis

Nombre de nacimiento‎: ‎Gustavo Adolfo Claudio ...

Nacionalidad‎: ‎Española

‎Leyendas de Bécquer · ‎Categoría:Gustavo Adolfo ... · ‎Rimas · ‎

A mi el autor Gustavo Adolfo Becque, Rimas y Leyendas, me encanta. Espero que os pique la curiosidad y pueda ser un aliciente para leer a este autor Español nacido en la maravillosa ciudad de Sevilla. 

el gatufo