Dreamwalkers the memory of the mirror vol v- poems by©claudio serrabrun

DREAMWALKERS - THE MEMORY OF THE MIRROR Volume V Poems by ©CLAUDIO SERRA BRUN, 2002-2014.(Argentina-
Spain)www.poesur.com 1
Poems of ClaudioSerraBrun and Music of Europe and America
ClaudioSerraBrun- The Argentine Spanish poet leads this collection of
CDs, cassettes, photos and video clips of his poems with composer's music
of the wide scope of the Americas and European Cultures.
THE MEMORY OF THE MIRROR - VOLUME 5
PRESS
Presentation of work: Friday, November 15, 2002. 1 PM, at the General
Association of Authors and Editors of Spain, (SGAE in Spanish), Manuel de
Falla Hall, Fernando VI St., 4 Madrid.
ClaudioSerraBrun: Phone – Press Release – CD Radio Difussion:
+34 630 365821, or also at poesur@gmail.com - www.poesur.com
THE MEMORY OF THE MIRROR
Volume V
Poems
CLAUDIO SERRA BRUN (Argentina-Spain)
and Record Music by the Maestros
ERNESTO CAVOUR (Bolivia)
DOMINGO CURA (Argentina)
Â©CLAUDIUS SERRA BRUN, 2002. Deposit Legal:V:62-2002, and V-4391-2002, Spain.
(During the act hearing will become of the subjects of the disc).

DREAMWALKERS
THE MEMORY OF THE MIRROR
Volume V
Poems by
CLAUDIO SERRA BRUN (Argentina-Spain)
and Music by Maestros
ERNESTO CAVOUR (Bolivia)
DOMINGO CURA (Argentina)
©CLAUDIO SERRA BRUN, 2002-2014. Copyright:V:62-2002.
(The tracks from the CD will be played during the act).
I thank all of you for attending the presentation of a new volume of
my series of poems and music, The Memory of the Mirror. In
addition, I would like to thank the Authors’ Society, which provides
us - the authors and members of this House - the unique possibility to
present our artistic works in Madrid, knowing how little is dedicated
to culture today.
This reception - made to authors, to all authors - differentiates in
fundament as well as in shape to those made for those riding “the
chariot of success and fame,” a chariot surrounded with a halo of
money, pushed by checks a priori and favors; a chariot that is
approached by mass media, attracted by the light like flies are…
Simple and democratic in its principle, this reception - which has
been made for people like us who do some type of cultural work - is
what makes me have the hope that in the near future, the fantastic
media that the Scientific and Technical Revolution has been able to
provide us with will be finally at the service of people and not of
interest groups, as it is happening now days.
We always should keep alive the vision of evidence: that the
summary of the work of the entire humanity gives us a positive result
and that it makes civilizations progress.
Getting back to the book/disk that gathers us all here, I must say that
it is the result of two years of reflection and maturation, but that its
genesis, its booster, traces back to a decade ago, to the days in which

I climbed the hills of the Andean Mountains, in the frontier between
Bolivia and Argentina, when I was doing an investigative report
about those peasants whose job was to cut the salt leafs, at heights as
much as 4500 meters above sea level; dried residue of an old sea
enclosed in geologic times, when the earth was growing, indefinitely,
towards the sky, and was raising an entire sea between its arms of
mountains, in a spectacle that is not within the reach of human time
and imagination.
Now, the only thing left are those enormous salt surfaces, brilliant
plaques that must look, from the heights of the sky, as silver
medallions on dark soil, within the eternal snow-like crowns of the
Andes. Up there, sheltered by the blinding light, work those peasants
with pickax and shovels, and at the end of a hard working day,
arrives, hardly, the old truck which will take down to the town all of
the accumulated leafs of salt…
Because of previous journeys, I had in mind the music of the great
Bolivian composer, Ernesto Cavour, the sound of the charango, acute
and pure like the air of the high plateau. Moreover, from Buenos
Aires, I also had in my collective memory the rhythm of the maestro,
Domingo Cura, the percussionist who made the sweltering wind from
the Pampa and the horses’ gallops enter the great city, conjuring
them with the steps on the paving stones with the infinite noise of
the urban iron factories. All of this so that we may remember that the
only and inevitable destine of the culture from the Pampa and from
the great Silver City is to live and grow in a fellowship of men.
This brotherhood of the voices and the arts, of apparently diverse
cultures, was my intention since many years ago, after my journeys
throughout America and Europe, and used to come to my over and
over as a recurrent dream, a dream that is trying to make itself be
heard and that is trying to get a life of its own. Long since my stances
in Madrid and Paris, I had knowledge of the profound friendship that
existed between the great Peruvian Poet, Cesar Vallejo, and the
Spaniard, Juan Larrea, a visionary poet which foresaw the change in

writing that was about to come, years before the Spaniard generation
of ’27. Embellished was Larrea with the Chilean, Vicente Huidobro,
the precursor of creationism – the great aesthetic change in the
Spanish poetry – and one of the main cultural promoters of the
Hispanic American poetry in France. The friendship that united
Larrea to the great Vallejo, and the combined experience of the
edition of the vanguardist magazine Favorables-Paris-Poema, led
Larrea to make a journey in 1930 to get to know more about the
country from which his friend was. He traveled to the great heights of
the Peruvian Andes. It was there where Larrea conceived the
luminous idea of the New World, of the union of the culture in
Spanish, of its immense American potentialities.
Thus was I going through those mountains, as I was saying, with the
sight lost in the horizon’s crystalline line, with the secret intuition of
having crossed the threshold of a new vision; of having found the
sudden and flashing bond of odd facts, lengthily meditated in
previous years. There are times in which chances shows us the vivid
face of our thoughts, the driving thread of our dreams. Hazard
wanted my adventure at the high plateau to coincide with the festival
of Asunción, on august 15, at a town by the name of Tumbaya, at the
Salinas Grandes. Suddenly, the empty streets were filled with women,
fried food, cheese balls, and turnovers, kids with colorful ponchos,
and images of the Virgin carried on a procession up to the hermitage,
the peasants playing and dancing to the charango, the erke, the bass
drum, and the siku….
After that day, I finally understood the cosmic experience poet Juan
Larrea experienced in front of immensity itself, at Peru’s highest
point, and his firm conviction of the renovating dawn of the Hispanic
world, which announces America to Spain. Years after his first trip
for America, Juan Larrea, like many other Spaniards, found refugee
there, since they were fleeing the Spanish Civil War. He then would
live in Buenos Aires, and in Cordoba, Argentina, for the rest of his life.
And from there, it will be dedicated during all its life to spread its

Hispano-American ideas, its fidelity to the work of its friend Caesar
Vallejo, with that Spanish old nobility, that is now vanishing, as much
here as in America, and that characterizes itself by the austerity and
the scorn of the brass foil, of the offensive ostentation of the false
monedero, of the new petulance of the rich one, attitudes that today,
unfortunately, have rooted themselves in the scope of the culture,
and more specifically, in culture that approaches the mass media. The
work of its Peruvian friend Cesar Vallejo illuminates since then our
letters, not only by the universality of its poetry, also by the work and
the attitude of its pairs, by Juan Larrea’s fraternal fidelity. Let us
remember, on the contrary, the imposed forgetfulness to Gabriela
Mistral and Vicente Huidobro, by an ideologized and fomented
cultural current even by some great name of poetry.This spirit of
collaboration of the letters American-Spaniards was inaugurated by
the great Rubén Darío, the poet-traveller, the ambassador of the
culture by all America and Spain, the one who renewed Spanish
poetry at the beginning of the XX Century.
Perhaps it must today say more than then, than now, in the dawn of
century XXI, it is still more necessary than before, that the prophetic
words of Larrea flourish in a new conscience of the culture of Spain,
of the Spanishness, the Americanness of that which is Hispanic. It is
because of America that the culture of Spain recovers and revives
incessantly, and is based on this great continental and peninsular
perspective, reason why Hispanic America is constructed as well, in
all the points of its geography.
That day, at a town located in the Andes, and enlivened by the color
and music of the people, I understood that life was concocted with
the threads of chance. In addition, I understood that the bridges
between men are built with threads of words, threads that join their
hearts in far away parables, encouraged to fly by the music found
inside all of us and that feeds us and accompanies us always. With
these words, I wanted to bring to you the silence of the heights, to

retain, for the future, a chord, the whispering of the wind through the
tree-lined avenues, a voice, some written lines, and a thought.
With humility, I dedicate these poems and music
To my fellow countrymen from Jujuy, from La Pampa,
from Bolivia, to my fellow countrymen from the eternal Plateau, of
Castilla.
Also, to Juan Larrea and César Vallejo, to their fraternal conception of
our culture. And to all the dreamwalkers of a better world.
©CLAUDIO SERRA BRUN, 2002-2014 www.poesur.com (Read during the presentation
of the CD: Friday, November 15, 2002, at the General Association of Authors and
Editors of Spain, SGAE (in Spanish), Manuel de Falla Hall, Fernando VI St., 4 Madrid.)
ClaudioSerraBrun Contact:Phone Press Release – CD Radio Difussion: +34 630
365821,poesur@gmail.com - www.poesur.com -
Friday, November 15, 2002, at the General Association of Authors and Editors of
Spain, SGAE (in Spanish), Manuel de Falla Hall, Fernando VI St., 4 Madrid.

Dreamwalkers the memory of the mirror vol v- poems by©claudio serrabrun

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