I only recently (last six or seven years) learned to read Spanish. It is an excellent exercise for one’s brain. El Jarama is written almost entirely in dialogue, much. About Rafael Sánchez Ferlosio: Hijo del escritor y uno de los principales ideólogos del falangismo Rafael Sánchez Mazas y de la italiana. 1 quote from El Jarama: ‘Nosotros estamos enseñados a que son malas ciertas cosas y de ahí que las aborrecemos y nos da asco de ellas; pero igual podíamo.

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Esas Yndias Equivocadas Y Malditas: Margaret Jull Costa Translator. This lady was waiting for a husband. El testimonio de Yarfoz 3. Topics Mentioning This Author.

Don Zana said to her, ‘You don’t pay for art, kid. He wore a white shirt, a jacket of green flannel, a bow tie, light trousers, and shoes of Corinthian red on his little dancing feet.

Then, then was the story of Don Zana ‘The Marionette.

It was when there were geraniums on the balconies, sunflower-seed stands jraama the Moncloa, herds of yearling sheep in the vacant lots of the Guindalera. His chest was a trapezoid. Comentarios A La Historia 4. A rose and mauve lady that had not yet gathered her flesh and her beauty into dark clothes, and still waited, like a rose stripped of its petals, with her faded colors and her artificial smile, bitter as a grimace.

Discover new books on Goodreads. Or they stepped on the spread-out sheets, undershirts, or pink chemises clinging to the ground like the gay shadow of a handsome young girl. Many felt his dry, wooden ferloio many listened to his odious songs, and all saw him dance fer,osio the tables. He would breakfast on a large cup of chocolate and he would not return until night or dawn.


Rafael Sánchez Ferlosio – Wikipedia

The fruitseller’s daughter, with her quince-lips, still bloodless, ingenuously kissed that slice-of-watermelon laugh. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars. It was that time, the story of Don Zana ‘The Marionette,’ he with the hair of cream-colored string, he with the large and empty laugh like a slice of watermelon, the one of the Tra-kay, tra-kay, tra-kay, tra-kay, tra-kay, tra on the tables, on the coffins.

They were dragging their heavy wool, eating the grass among the rubbish, bleating to the neighborhood. He would dance in the elevators and on the landings, spill ink wells, beat on pianos with his rigid little gloved hands. One day he took her out for a walk. He awoke one morning, hanging in the dusty storeroom of a theater, next to a lady of the eighteenth century, with many white ringlets and a cornucopia of a face.

Want to Read saving… Error rating book. Sign in with Facebook Sign in options. She returned home crying and, without saying anything to anyone, died of bitterness. Want to Read saving….

This was Don Zana ‘The Marionette,’ the one who used marama dance on the tables and the coffins. He slept in a pension where no one else stayed. He liked to argue, to go visiting in houses.

Don Zana broke the flower pots with his hand and he laughed at everything. Refresh and try again. Don Zana kept the pits to make her believe he loved her. Her flesh was slack and she was some forty-five years old.


Every morning he would put on his bright red shoes and have them cleaned. Don Zana used to walk through the outskirts of Madrid and catch small dirty fish in the Manzanares. The girl cried when days passed without Don Zana’s going by her street. Just a moment while we sign you in to your Goodreads account.

He had a disagreeable voice, like the breaking of dry reeds; he jxrama more than jarwma, and he got drunk at the little tables in the taverns. The fruitseller’s daughter fell in love with him and gave him apricots and plums. Then he would light a fire of dry leaves and fry them.

Perhaps she had been waiting since she was fifteen.

Rafael Sánchez Ferlosio

He would throw the cards into the air when he lost, and he didn’t stoop over to pick them up. Sometimes they stole into the patios; they ate up the parsley, a little green sprig of parsley, in the summer, in the watered shade of the patios, in the jaraam windows of the basements at foot level.

Mientras no cambien los dioses, nada ha cambiado 4. Want to Read Currently Reading Read.