Cromofora La ( Paloma)Art Gallery showcases an amalgamation of new contemporary, emerging as well distinguished artists, focusing on the creation of future exhibitions from around the world, a Monthly Magazine all of which help to define the future of art in our culture.Supporting and representing artists, innovative exhibitions and programs. Beside provides Art Advisory Services. All image's rights are reserved by the artists who created the works reference herein
viernes, 11 de septiembre de 2015
IN THE PETALS...EN LA COROLA...
Poem by PALOMA de la Torre ( Cromofora La)©
Image NANOO G.
Model DARIA Endresen
Image NANOO G.
Model DARIA Endresen
IN THE PETALS...EN LA COROLA...
I am loving, despite the pain
Swallowed in the mouth of my chest
Furtive sunrises sunless
Exhausted And elastic hands ...
I love, though doll broken and sewed
Of restless mirrors by eyes, lips open ...
Tears dried in the breeze
of words spoken,
Your breeze,
I Loved, with pale eyelids
On the petals of a rose ...
Swallowed in the mouth of my chest
Furtive sunrises sunless
Exhausted And elastic hands ...
I love, though doll broken and sewed
Of restless mirrors by eyes, lips open ...
Tears dried in the breeze
of words spoken,
Your breeze,
I Loved, with pale eyelids
On the petals of a rose ...
Amando, a pesar del dolor
Tragado en la boca de mi pecho
Amaneceres furtivos sin sol
Manos exangües y elásticas…
Amar, aunque cosida muñeca rota
De inquietos espejos como ojos, labios abiertos…
Lágrimas secadas con la brisa
de palabras pronunciadas,
Tu brisa,
Amé, con los párpados lívidos
En la corola de una rosa...
Tragado en la boca de mi pecho
Amaneceres furtivos sin sol
Manos exangües y elásticas…
Amar, aunque cosida muñeca rota
De inquietos espejos como ojos, labios abiertos…
Lágrimas secadas con la brisa
de palabras pronunciadas,
Tu brisa,
Amé, con los párpados lívidos
En la corola de una rosa...
Translated to Hebrew by Avner Mart
אני אוהבת, למרות הכאב
נבלעת בפי חזי
זריחות חשאיות שלא ראו שמש
מותשת ידיים אלסטיות ...
אוהבת, אם כי הבובה נשברה ונתפרה
מראות חסרי מנוח לעיני, שפתי פתוחות ...
דמעות מיובשות ברוח
של מילים מדוברות,
רוח שלך,
אהבתי, עם עפעפיים חיוורות
על עלי כותרת של ורד ...
נבלעת בפי חזי
זריחות חשאיות שלא ראו שמש
מותשת ידיים אלסטיות ...
אוהבת, אם כי הבובה נשברה ונתפרה
מראות חסרי מנוח לעיני, שפתי פתוחות ...
דמעות מיובשות ברוח
של מילים מדוברות,
רוח שלך,
אהבתי, עם עפעפיים חיוורות
על עלי כותרת של ורד ...
Extracted from " Sin Azúcar"
jueves, 10 de septiembre de 2015
PATRICE MURCIANO
The Power of Love
Cyberpunk
See more at http://cromoforalapalomaonlinegallery.blogspot.com.es/2014/03/patrice-murciano.html
miércoles, 9 de septiembre de 2015
lunes, 7 de septiembre de 2015
The Kranzedan Tales- MICHAEL HUTTER
The last train
The Kranzedan’s search for the Museum of Extraterrestrial Cultures had, at last, led him to a small town, secluded high up in the mountains. The town was supposed to be abandoned soon after, and in the following days and weeks, whilst the Kranzedan sought in vain for the museum, the citizens were steadily leaving.
That is how the Kranzedan came to be sitting in the station building , shivering with cold and disappointment, waiting for the train that would take him and the last of the inhabitants down the mountain.
Then a curious little man, whom he had not seen before, came to him and offered to lead him to the museum that he was looking for.
The Kranzedan, however, shook his head sadly and said that it was too late now, the last train was about to arrive, and he had to leave. And indeed, the chugging of the engine could already be heard in the distance. The Kranzedan watched as the train came around the last corner and started to cross the stone viaduct that spanned the deep abyss that separated the town from the outside world. Mesmerized, he watched on as the engine swerved from its rails and, pulling the carriages with it, plunged, crashing and screeching, into the deep.
And when the noise had died down, the little man asked once more whether the gentleman would like to accompany him to the museum, now that the train would not be arriving. The Kranzedan took a long look at the smoldering debris, deep down in the gorge, then went with the stranger, never to been seen again.
ABOUT
A project yet unfinished, tentative title: „The Kranzedan Tales“ I started to write the stories about two years ago and finished 32 so far (I need at last one more, to get a better number). Nearly half of the tales are translated to English. We are still working on it. Simultaneous to the writing I painted the pictures that became, after reworked with photoshop, the illustrations for the tales. Or maybe, vice versa, the tales are additions to the pictures?
ROBERTO FERRI
"LA MORTE DELLA SFINGE" olio su tela 170 x 100 cm anno 2015
http://cromoforalapalomaonlinegallery.blogspot.com.es/2015/04/roberto-ferri.html
viernes, 4 de septiembre de 2015
miércoles, 2 de septiembre de 2015
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