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The riding was smooth, over undulating knolls. Every once in a while passing through a "puerto suelo," he looked on either side to tiny green meadows, from which streams were born. Occasionally he saw a deer, or more likely small bands of the wild mountain cattle that swung along before him, heads held high, eyes staring, nostrils expanded.
And the remedy is not that suggested in the quatrain that runs Cada vez que considero que me tengo de morir, tiendo la capa en el suelo y no me harto de dormir. No! The remedy is to consider our mortal destiny without flinching, to fasten our gaze upon the gaze of the Sphinx, for it is thus that the malevolence of its spell is discharmed. If we all die utterly, wherefore does everything exist?
the very beautiful and justly renowned Virgen que el sol mas pura, with its heart-rending supplication: los ojos vuelve al suelo y mira un miserable en cárcel dura cercado de tinieblas y tristeza: possibly the song Del conocimiento de si mismo, with its significant simile: el gusanillo de la gente hollado un rey era, conmigo comparado;
The Virgin is always ready to befriend her devotees, and in the cathedral near that beautiful choir screen she has a shrine above the stone where she alighted when she brought a chasuble to St. The fact is attested by the very simple yet absolute inscription: Quando la Reina del Cielo Puso los pies en el suelo, En esta piedra los puso,
Coda vez que considero que me tengo de morir, tiendo la capa en el suelo y no me harto de dormir. But no, not sleeping, but dreaming dreaming life, since life is a dream. Among us Spaniards another phrase has very rapidly passed into current usage, the expression "It's a question of passing the time," or "killing the time." And, in fact, we make time in order to kill it.
"Patrona la mas amada De nuestro suelo Espanol Nuestro mas luciente sol En la noche desgraciada Pues para ser proclamada Con el voto mas cordial Sois Maria concebida Sin pecado original." "Concede en fin Madre amada A tus hijos este dia La mas cristiana alegria Y la muerte deseada Para que seas cantada En la patria celestial Sois Maria concebida Sin pecado original."
There, the richest soil is the least productive. Along the banks of the Guadalquiver, where once twelve thousand villages existed, there are now not eight hundred; and they are full of beggars. A Spanish proverb says, "El cielo y suelo es bueno, el entresuelo malo" The sky is good, the earth is good; that only is bad which lies between the sky and the earth.
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