.
.
Update December. 29, 2009
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PARK POETS
Overview
Overview
ZIBARA ANTONIO, ORIETTA LOZANO,
and CIRO AMPARO VASQUEZ EDGARDO ROMERO CORTES
RECITAL IN
FEBRUARY 29, 2008
promote and organize:
Cali Ministry of Culture and the Municipality of Cali *
in partnership with
VALLEY POETS FOUNDATION
Program: squares and parks. Meeting spaces for culture.
Photo: MIC NTC ...
(Click on images to enlarge. Click on "Back" on the toolbar to return to here)
PARK POETS: Isaccs Jorge Ricardo Nieto, Carlos Villafane, Antonio Llanos and Octavio Gamboa.
Information and PARK POETS:
http://parquedelospoetas-cali
http://parquedelospoetas-cali
http://www.caliescali.com/cms
= vistas/es_ES/pagina_8914.php
...
click on the title or at:
And there click on "faith 28 08.mp3 poets park"
Later, after photos The texts of the poems.
.
.
banner advertisement and the event --- 
ZIBARA ANTONIO, ORIETTA LOZANO, Carlos Villafañe ,
AMPARO VASQUEZ ROMERO, Antonio Llanos and EDGARDO CIRO CORTES + + +
poets participating in the event with the Secretary of Culture Cali Argemiro Cortés Buitrago + + + + 
Initiation recital. Presentations ---- 
Poet Antonio Zibara, read + + +
The Poet Orietta Lozano, read + + +
The Poet Amparo Romero Vásquez , President of the Poetry Foundation, read + + +
Ciro 
Some audience 
+ + +
peomas read the texts.
Reading Order in Round: Antonio
Zibara, Orietta Lozano, Amparo Romero
Ciro Vasquez Edgardo Cortes.
+ + +
poems read by
ZIBARA
ANTONIO (Coming Soon)
+ + +
poems read by
ORIETTA
LOZANO (Coming Soon)
+ + +
poems read by
AMPARO VASQUEZ ROMERO
.
an enormous whale eats MY STUFF
life in every cup of tea I drink in the morning
In memory of my father coins minted
In the joy of finding the keys
And find anyone beyond the disappointment
In the howl of dogs copulate
While love is another battle and the war
those afternoons where men dream of being heroes
and ash is becoming the smell of rain
Caravans of dust where the gods have been dying.
I remember when I read Socrates and felt that his death was my death
And he drank the hemlock burned my din. That armor
These men desert horsemen
That light at dusk
That smell of warm blood
And that day when God gives me death. The rickety marble
Dead
All the dead hunger hunger
All
The
crucified crucified because there is still land
Sad Moon
the whole garden pot falling on the pain of the world
All books cremation in that terrible shame gnawing
All unwavering line.
. Once I thought we had a homeland and dark animals
trod my tongue
And the wind swept through the vine that grew in the yard
house furrow my writing
a red sky and the sea was mine
My teeth of wolves
My fog.
A huge whale swallows
vacuum they leave behind things his way
And it is this October with its neon signs
and rainy streets.
earth trembles like a sick bird and I'm alone
More alone than death. ---
life in every cup of tea I drink in the morning
In memory of my father coins minted
In the joy of finding the keys
And find anyone beyond the disappointment
In the howl of dogs copulate
While love is another battle and the war
those afternoons where men dream of being heroes
and ash is becoming the smell of rain
Caravans of dust where the gods have been dying.
I remember when I read Socrates and felt that his death was my death
And he drank the hemlock burned my din. That armor
These men desert horsemen
That light at dusk
That smell of warm blood
And that day when God gives me death. The rickety marble
Dead
All the dead hunger hunger
All
The
crucified crucified because there is still land
Sad Moon
the whole garden pot falling on the pain of the world
All books cremation in that terrible shame gnawing
All unwavering line.
. Once I thought we had a homeland and dark animals
trod my tongue
And the wind swept through the vine that grew in the yard
house furrow my writing
a red sky and the sea was mine
My teeth of wolves
My fog.
A huge whale swallows
vacuum they leave behind things his way
And it is this October with its neon signs
and rainy streets.
earth trembles like a sick bird and I'm alone
More alone than death. ---
NIGHT BEGINS TO BE BORN IN THE EYE OF THE NEEDLE
you share my deep
My crying girl gagged
The rooms where smells like a thick wine.
The first cry of the world was your cry
And you were the miracle to fill my thing. The city remains
This beautiful woman like a dream
That bird that swallows the earth.
I hope that come the devils
A sawing trees to pluck the nails
To pretend that love me.
I keep losing all the battles
Extraviada as always on my lips moist in the syllable
Exhausted
Waiting for the heart burn the stone
talk to me. Start
born overnight in the eye of the needle
A home made fog
And the words are in purple
kisses And a flood of children being drawn into the pumpkins
And I am the great flood of the
The All arms crossed my blood
illuminating sad eyes of cats
The dark silence of the cathedral.
Teach me that my side is not injured in the wall
Adivíname
The red barbed fence the crack of dawn.
Tell me the story of the goods
And listen as it falls on the ash mud
cement from the root
on birds darken the sky
you and me and neglect
And we're sailing alone our own fog.
not call death because I do not know who I understand
Because nothing like rain If you were
If your feet were my feet under the aroma
And it was the poem the thickness
And I've lost everything
to silence.
you share my deep
My crying girl gagged
The rooms where smells like a thick wine.
The first cry of the world was your cry
And you were the miracle to fill my thing. The city remains
This beautiful woman like a dream
That bird that swallows the earth.
I hope that come the devils
A sawing trees to pluck the nails
To pretend that love me.
I keep losing all the battles
Extraviada as always on my lips moist in the syllable
Exhausted
Waiting for the heart burn the stone
talk to me. Start
born overnight in the eye of the needle
A home made fog
And the words are in purple
kisses And a flood of children being drawn into the pumpkins
And I am the great flood of the
The All arms crossed my blood
illuminating sad eyes of cats
The dark silence of the cathedral.
Teach me that my side is not injured in the wall
Adivíname
The red barbed fence the crack of dawn.
Tell me the story of the goods
And listen as it falls on the ash mud
cement from the root
on birds darken the sky
you and me and neglect
And we're sailing alone our own fog.
not call death because I do not know who I understand
Because nothing like rain If you were
If your feet were my feet under the aroma
And it was the poem the thickness
And I've lost everything
to silence.
--- NO MORE LIVES OF MIRRORS
With this feeling of not belonging anywhere
That the other side of the chasm
Oblivion randomly ignores the steel tempered in vain
What I look for voices of my dead.
Nothing has changed since that woman in the most remote
blood
I spoke of the happiness and men
of the meat will one day be dust
The talisman that inhabits the eyes of cats. She was
wind
He looked the morning
As one who evokes a promised heaven.
With this feeling of being lost still
growing between my fingernails
That knot of men and their ephemeral pyramids
Tigers
perfumed flesh eating this dead god of syllables
smell with knives after the battle. I've seen
I bleed the ancient heart of stone
The intricate sea gulls
not forget that my hand can be cruel and the sword
I can measure the moon and drunk The terrible insomnia
clarity that separates me
nothing I imagine me as inexhaustible
The street traffic.
That circle is God continues
wandering among my things in my bed It tends
solitary is the twilight Endless
The dice game.
God and I ordered the fog sometimes
The infinite love of the little hyenas.
him as I know we are not that soft
That smell of empty afternoon that no one else lives
mirrors. ---
With this feeling of not belonging anywhere
That the other side of the chasm
Oblivion randomly ignores the steel tempered in vain
What I look for voices of my dead.
Nothing has changed since that woman in the most remote
blood
I spoke of the happiness and men
of the meat will one day be dust
The talisman that inhabits the eyes of cats. She was
wind
He looked the morning
As one who evokes a promised heaven.
With this feeling of being lost still
growing between my fingernails
That knot of men and their ephemeral pyramids
Tigers
perfumed flesh eating this dead god of syllables
smell with knives after the battle. I've seen
I bleed the ancient heart of stone
The intricate sea gulls
not forget that my hand can be cruel and the sword
I can measure the moon and drunk The terrible insomnia
clarity that separates me
nothing I imagine me as inexhaustible
The street traffic.
That circle is God continues
wandering among my things in my bed It tends
solitary is the twilight Endless
The dice game.
God and I ordered the fog sometimes
The infinite love of the little hyenas.
him as I know we are not that soft
That smell of empty afternoon that no one else lives
mirrors. ---
Greedy
WIRE
That my voice penetrate your body
And that is the poem
thirst That God inhabits your dark abyss.
imagine my mouth
inside your own mouth
And my tears to encompass the infinite
to blend the water with the water
to multiply on the world
to found a new kingdom. My voice
invisible as a child to miss
Playing between the doors
The
knows they are like a trap
eyelids
milky owls that there is no abyss
That blind eyes of the poem.
Before oblivion
moon shred of my soul We spoliation
shred my flesh of your flesh
Unravel one hundred ties that hold the pyramid.
You'll never hear the roar of the tigers
Digging the hole deeper
not know the fate of baby leopard
His death ration in my bowl of jade
Neither beetles
sleeping under the pillow. I give back the coveted
threads
And every drop of blood I shed for you
and birds sounding
to see distilling wine.
I caught between my hands Quartz Butterfly
Unicorns made of mirrors my door keys
My hourglass hourglass
And that was never mine.
Everything else is yours
Bombay Black Cat with gold nails are yours
the holder Yours Pictures
the sick man's oils
painted for me the other deaths.
Yours forever and forever and ever
tonight's monologue.
WIRE
That my voice penetrate your body
And that is the poem
thirst That God inhabits your dark abyss.
imagine my mouth
inside your own mouth
And my tears to encompass the infinite
to blend the water with the water
to multiply on the world
to found a new kingdom. My voice
invisible as a child to miss
Playing between the doors
The
knows they are like a trap
eyelids
milky owls that there is no abyss
That blind eyes of the poem.
Before oblivion
moon shred of my soul We spoliation
shred my flesh of your flesh
Unravel one hundred ties that hold the pyramid.
You'll never hear the roar of the tigers
Digging the hole deeper
not know the fate of baby leopard
His death ration in my bowl of jade
Neither beetles
sleeping under the pillow. I give back the coveted
threads
And every drop of blood I shed for you
and birds sounding
to see distilling wine.
I caught between my hands Quartz Butterfly
Unicorns made of mirrors my door keys
My hourglass hourglass
And that was never mine.
Everything else is yours
Bombay Black Cat with gold nails are yours
the holder Yours Pictures
the sick man's oils
painted for me the other deaths.
Yours forever and forever and ever
tonight's monologue.
+ + +
.
poems read by
CIRO EDGARDO VILLEGAS CORTES
.
STARS FIRE
Give me your lips to ignite the stars. Show me your body
and Seduce with the frenzy of your hips.
My eyes and my hands a thorough scouring
deliriously me feel the glory of your kisses
To receive you with your emergency runaway
want to be the custodian of your poems and your body in agony
every drop of your sweet
spring and the beast that you have in your tongue to devour.
I plunge into your little wood to burn your pubic
and listen to the melody of your sobs
amid the tremors of your volcanoes on.
I own and I love you like a sweet little
untamed beast for the rest that do not
and all the rainbow colors are for you.
enrutarte If you want to host my heart
my silence as yours let me enter all your secrets
and drink the elixir that comes from my skin
because after your kiss
ignite the stars ....
Give me your lips to ignite the stars. Show me your body
and Seduce with the frenzy of your hips.
My eyes and my hands a thorough scouring
deliriously me feel the glory of your kisses
To receive you with your emergency runaway
want to be the custodian of your poems and your body in agony
every drop of your sweet
spring and the beast that you have in your tongue to devour.
I plunge into your little wood to burn your pubic
and listen to the melody of your sobs
amid the tremors of your volcanoes on.
I own and I love you like a sweet little
untamed beast for the rest that do not
and all the rainbow colors are for you.
enrutarte If you want to host my heart
my silence as yours let me enter all your secrets
and drink the elixir that comes from my skin
because after your kiss
ignite the stars ....
...
WHAT GOD THINKS OF WOMEN?
cares what God thinks of women
if their legs are tattooed honey
milestones of history?
If you have been alone in his silent struggle
and anguish of the lash?
If the fury of her hips
with the passion and the eagerness of his kisses
and fertility of their wombs
have given life to the universe?
As God they are everywhere
with the obstinacy of their dreams
combined with other dreams with the strength of its fragility
have faced the world like angels
transcending death. Creative and resourceful
literate or illiterate and proud
presumed
thoughtful and refined sound crazy or indecent
chaste or holy or unholy fortune tellers and witches
feminist or sexist
exploited and deceived
are willing to fight rhythmic
alongside their men.
But who can defend their covens?
who can overcome their atavistic
pains?
do not want them as nightmares lurking
not want their indolence or cruel revenge
like Lorena Bobbit and his paranoia
as Juana la Loca
nor his messianism
like that with Judith
beauty of her face and deception
cut the head of Holofernes and his betrayal
like that
Delilah Samson gave gifts to the enemy.
But if we as a whisper of such
to ignite our skin and are
the fire and wet moan
that copulations are burning
that as wine and as a source
become light to the abyss.
Many seek peace of loose ropes or peace
frenzy
loved the bed and some have built their own heaven
others their own hell.
cares what God thinks of women
if from the depths of history
a new woman is emerging. Blessed or unlucky
All fit into the realm of men.
cares what God thinks of women
if their legs are tattooed honey
milestones of history?
If you have been alone in his silent struggle
and anguish of the lash?
If the fury of her hips
with the passion and the eagerness of his kisses
and fertility of their wombs
have given life to the universe?
As God they are everywhere
with the obstinacy of their dreams
combined with other dreams with the strength of its fragility
have faced the world like angels
transcending death. Creative and resourceful
literate or illiterate and proud
presumed
thoughtful and refined sound crazy or indecent
chaste or holy or unholy fortune tellers and witches
feminist or sexist
exploited and deceived
are willing to fight rhythmic
alongside their men.
But who can defend their covens?
who can overcome their atavistic
pains?
do not want them as nightmares lurking
not want their indolence or cruel revenge
like Lorena Bobbit and his paranoia
as Juana la Loca
nor his messianism
like that with Judith
beauty of her face and deception
cut the head of Holofernes and his betrayal
like that
Delilah Samson gave gifts to the enemy.
But if we as a whisper of such
to ignite our skin and are
the fire and wet moan
that copulations are burning
that as wine and as a source
become light to the abyss.
Many seek peace of loose ropes or peace
frenzy
loved the bed and some have built their own heaven
others their own hell.
cares what God thinks of women
if from the depths of history
a new woman is emerging. Blessed or unlucky
All fit into the realm of men.
...
GOD OF
Malaventurados
"The contempt of God afflicts world
Piedad Bonnett
Poem 1
Today with sadness in my eyes When death
round my side
When dreams are made of ash. Reflective
as in the days of my childhood
When everything was chirping of birds
And the waters of the water stroked my hands.
Today I feel an anguished cry for the pain
A dagger world of burning my insides.
I believe in you God of the unlucky
Lost in the abyss of your designs
For the tears and pain are one
And is your answer to the prayers inclement
of lips Claiming
life.
Poem 2
of the mouths of the oppressors
emanate praise Psalms and incense
I ask forgiveness for their blessing and protection
ignominy
To continue sinning
As heard from the abyss
The lament of the bones of your unlucky
which cry to heaven for divine justice
they never knew.
Poem 3
You focus on your hand that all the powers
forgives all sins and bless the swords,
Grant me the grace not to be in your plans
Protect me yourself and have me
Best of all silence. Although fear
makes me names Do not get me
exorcises
This river of blood that crosses me. It only takes a gesture
yours
To clear the darkness of the universe. Poem 4
Manifiéstanos Lord
If you're tired of your eternity
And if you are unable to quiet the beast
That inhabits the soul of men
And if so your desolation
exempt you from the world's salvation Abandon thy kingdom
Let us create
Another God redeem us. Poems
5
How
God you believe in the unlucky
If you have deleted the child's face
joy And you off in flight
light and has Dragonflies
everyday fact
The
unusual realm of faith and fanaticism
Overwhelmed by your name. How
If you believe in the messengers of death And we've done stoned
constant pain
exclusions have perpetuated on earth
And with fire spewing man
have silenced the birdsong in the mornings We've taken
day colors of the rainbow at the end rain has immortalized
And death in life of your children
unlucky.
I believe in you Lord
If you never overlooks a tear in your eyes?
Poem 6
Malaventurados
"The contempt of God afflicts world
Piedad Bonnett
Poem 1
Today with sadness in my eyes When death
round my side
When dreams are made of ash. Reflective
as in the days of my childhood
When everything was chirping of birds
And the waters of the water stroked my hands.
Today I feel an anguished cry for the pain
A dagger world of burning my insides.
I believe in you God of the unlucky
Lost in the abyss of your designs
For the tears and pain are one
And is your answer to the prayers inclement
of lips Claiming
life.
Poem 2
of the mouths of the oppressors
emanate praise Psalms and incense
I ask forgiveness for their blessing and protection
ignominy
To continue sinning
As heard from the abyss
The lament of the bones of your unlucky
which cry to heaven for divine justice
they never knew.
Poem 3
You focus on your hand that all the powers
forgives all sins and bless the swords,
Grant me the grace not to be in your plans
Protect me yourself and have me
Best of all silence. Although fear
makes me names Do not get me
exorcises
This river of blood that crosses me. It only takes a gesture
yours
To clear the darkness of the universe. Poem 4
Manifiéstanos Lord
If you're tired of your eternity
And if you are unable to quiet the beast
That inhabits the soul of men
And if so your desolation
exempt you from the world's salvation Abandon thy kingdom
Let us create
Another God redeem us. Poems
5
How
God you believe in the unlucky
If you have deleted the child's face
joy And you off in flight
light and has Dragonflies
everyday fact
The
unusual realm of faith and fanaticism
Overwhelmed by your name. How
If you believe in the messengers of death And we've done stoned
constant pain
exclusions have perpetuated on earth
And with fire spewing man
have silenced the birdsong in the mornings We've taken
day colors of the rainbow at the end rain has immortalized
And death in life of your children
unlucky.
I believe in you Lord
If you never overlooks a tear in your eyes?
Poem 6
Lord
not drag me away I've built this faith in me faith in
not my biggest
Neither the touch of the woman I love.
God of
unlucky not let be forgotten
of beings who love me and do not delete
smiling face of my beloved Del
me not away the frenzy of love kiss
not paradise I've built for me.
pray to God today I can not write a sentence
Not a single psalm
For my soul have indolent
The greatness of your glory.
+ + +
.
Now in Cali, Fridays are cultural rumba
eltiempo.com TIME / tiempoimpreso / edicionimpresa / Nation March 10, 2008
http://www.eltiempo.com/tiempoimpreso/edicionimpresa/nacion/2008 -03-10/ARTICULO-WEB-NOTA_INTERIOR-3994439.html
Photo: http://www.eltiempo.com/tiempoimpreso/edicionimpresa/nacion/2008-03-10/IMAGEN/IMAGEN-3994444 -2.jpg Juan Carlos Quintero / TIME The Departmental Banda played Cayzedo Square. Who walked in the place were the first to be surprised.
Photo: http://www.eltiempo.com/tiempoimpreso/edicionimpresa/nacion/2008-03-10/IMAGEN/IMAGEN-3994445-2.jpg
Juan Carlos Quintero / TIME. POETS. The idea of \u200b\u200brescuing squares and parks to become cultural spaces born of the secretariats of Culture in Cali and Valle.
On Sunday, in the gazebo, where a statue of Sebastian de Belalcazar, a symbol of the Sultana del Valle, the cultural program begins at five in the afternoon. For many years
not seen people walking on a Friday night along Cayzedo Square, the Park of the Poets, the plaza of City Hall and Sixth Avenue, the traditional Zona Rosa in Cali.
Those who work in downtown Cali were surprised when the offices were found close to Banda Departamental playing in the Plaza de Cayzedo.
The eagerness to get home or go for drinks was postponed to the tune of Cali Pachanguero beginning to interpret.
About 100 yards ahead, in the Park of the Poets, were Orieta Lozano, Amparo Romero, Antonio Cortes Zibara and Cyrus with his recital and move another 200 meters, in the plaza of City Hall, were presented Intimujmallu children's dances, and Jocaycu Folk Revival.
"These spaces are what we need to take different attitudes Cali. Is a new way of living and feeling the city," said the professor at the Normal, Alfonso Sanchez.
500 yards from there on Sixth Avenue, Valley Philharmonic Orchestra played the overture to Johann Strauss's bat and Radesky Progress.
Then came the Pacific with a masterful performance of 'Makerule' and 'Mi Buenaventura' and departed with three classic salsa 'My Valle del Cauca', 'Hey look and see pachanguero Cali. "
"You are going to restaurants because we had a space like this, much less a cultural option in full Sixth," said Mauricio Perez, a marketing manager who decided to walk the avenue with the family. After the Philharmonic
came the dances of the Universidad del Valle and on one side of the deck was installed Mecatero group offering shampoos, wafers and empanadas. Gladys Barrera was happy because that night was sold four packages of wafers of 25 units each.
The idea of \u200b\u200brescuing the plazas and parks of the city to become entertainment venues was the secretariats of Culture in Cali and Valle. Retretas
The first deals with the programming of the parks and the second of the retreats on Sixth Avenue and in the various municipalities in the department.
Sundays at the gazebo where the statue of Sebastian de Belalcazar, a symbol of the city, the cultural program starts at 5:00 pm. The slope of bringing the film to the Loma de la Cruz on Friday night and hanging on the pedestrian bridge from Paseo Bolívar paintings by local artists. Argemiro
Cortés, Secretary of Culture in Cali, said the program is ready for the first half in all these public spaces.
"Through art and culture are transformed peoples," the official said Cortés convinced.
eltiempo.com TIME / tiempoimpreso / edicionimpresa / Nation March 10, 2008
http://www.eltiempo.com/tiempoimpreso/edicionimpresa/nacion/2008 -03-10/ARTICULO-WEB-NOTA_INTERIOR-3994439.html
Photo: http://www.eltiempo.com/tiempoimpreso/edicionimpresa/nacion/2008-03-10/IMAGEN/IMAGEN-3994444 -2.jpg Juan Carlos Quintero / TIME The Departmental Banda played Cayzedo Square. Who walked in the place were the first to be surprised.
Photo: http://www.eltiempo.com/tiempoimpreso/edicionimpresa/nacion/2008-03-10/IMAGEN/IMAGEN-3994445-2.jpg
Juan Carlos Quintero / TIME. POETS. The idea of \u200b\u200brescuing squares and parks to become cultural spaces born of the secretariats of Culture in Cali and Valle.
On Sunday, in the gazebo, where a statue of Sebastian de Belalcazar, a symbol of the Sultana del Valle, the cultural program begins at five in the afternoon. For many years
not seen people walking on a Friday night along Cayzedo Square, the Park of the Poets, the plaza of City Hall and Sixth Avenue, the traditional Zona Rosa in Cali.
Those who work in downtown Cali were surprised when the offices were found close to Banda Departamental playing in the Plaza de Cayzedo.
The eagerness to get home or go for drinks was postponed to the tune of Cali Pachanguero beginning to interpret.
About 100 yards ahead, in the Park of the Poets, were Orieta Lozano, Amparo Romero, Antonio Cortes Zibara and Cyrus with his recital and move another 200 meters, in the plaza of City Hall, were presented Intimujmallu children's dances, and Jocaycu Folk Revival.
"These spaces are what we need to take different attitudes Cali. Is a new way of living and feeling the city," said the professor at the Normal, Alfonso Sanchez.
500 yards from there on Sixth Avenue, Valley Philharmonic Orchestra played the overture to Johann Strauss's bat and Radesky Progress.
Then came the Pacific with a masterful performance of 'Makerule' and 'Mi Buenaventura' and departed with three classic salsa 'My Valle del Cauca', 'Hey look and see pachanguero Cali. "
"You are going to restaurants because we had a space like this, much less a cultural option in full Sixth," said Mauricio Perez, a marketing manager who decided to walk the avenue with the family. After the Philharmonic
came the dances of the Universidad del Valle and on one side of the deck was installed Mecatero group offering shampoos, wafers and empanadas. Gladys Barrera was happy because that night was sold four packages of wafers of 25 units each.
The idea of \u200b\u200brescuing the plazas and parks of the city to become entertainment venues was the secretariats of Culture in Cali and Valle. Retretas
The first deals with the programming of the parks and the second of the retreats on Sixth Avenue and in the various municipalities in the department.
Sundays at the gazebo where the statue of Sebastian de Belalcazar, a symbol of the city, the cultural program starts at 5:00 pm. The slope of bringing the film to the Loma de la Cruz on Friday night and hanging on the pedestrian bridge from Paseo Bolívar paintings by local artists. Argemiro
Cortés, Secretary of Culture in Cali, said the program is ready for the first half in all these public spaces.
"Through art and culture are transformed peoples," the official said Cortés convinced.
+ + +
updated: NTC ... / gra March 11, 2008.
