The Crisis

"I do not pretend that things will change if you always do the same. The crisis is the best blessing that can happen to people and countries that the crisis brings progress. Creativity is born of anxiety as the day comes from the dark night. 

It is in the crisis born inventiveness, discoveries and major strategies. Whoever overcomes the crisis is overcome himself without being "overcome." Who gives the crisis its failures and hardships violent and respects its own talent more problems than to solutions. 

The real crisis is the crisis of incompetence. 

The disadvantage of the people and countries is laziness and exits to find solutions. there is no crisis challenges without challenges life is routine, a slow death. No crisis no merit. It emerges in the crisis where the best of each, because wind is not all crisis caress. 

Talk of crisis is to promote and silent in the crisis is to exalt conformism. 

Instead of this hard work. We have a After the only crisis that is threatening the tragedy of not wanting to fight for it. "

Albert Einstein

The New Colossus

(Fotografia arxiu Isalguer Almenara)

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

—Emma Lazarus, 1883

El nou colós

No com l'altiu gegant grec de bronze,
amb les extremitats a cavall de la terra en senyal de conquesta;
s’alçarà aquí, a les portes del ponent banyades per la mar,
una poderosa dona amb una torxa, la flama de la qual
és llum de presoners, i el seu nom
Mare dels exiliats. Des del far de la seva mà
il·lumina la benvinguda a tot el món; els seus tebis ulls dominen
l’aire del port amb ponts que uneixen les ciutats bessones.
“Guardeu-vos, terres antigues, la vostra pompa llegendària!” plora
amb els llavis en silenci. "Doneu-me els vostres cansats, els vostres pobres,
les vostres turbes amuntegades que anhelen respirar la llibertat,
el rebuig desvalgut de les vostres curulles platges.
Envieu-me aquests, els desvalguts, sacudits per les tempestes,
que al costat de la porta daurada, hi alço la meva flama!”

(Traducció, M. Miró)

CLICK HERE FOR THE MUSIC

Stand by me

When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we see
No I won't be afraid
No I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

So darling, darling stand by me
Oh, now, now, stand by me
Stand by me, stand by me

If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
And the mountain should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry
No I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

And darling, darling stand by me
Oh, stand by me
Stand by me, stand by me, stand by me

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