A tale by Pedro Emilio Coll   At the age of twelve, stragelling the boy Juan Peña with some rascals received a pebble over one of his teeth, the blood ran over cleaning his dirthy face, and the teeth broke down like a saw shape.  Since that day, the golden age of Juan Peña began.   With the tip of the tongue, Juan touched constantly his broken teeth; the rest of his body still, with a lost look, witouth thinking.   Thereby, from rowdy and quarrelsome became quiet and calm. Juan’s parents, tired of listening to the neighbors and the passersby’s camplaints, all victims from the boy perversities, and exhausted from all kind of   unsuccessful reprimands and punishments, were now astonished and anguished with the sudden transformation of Juan. Juan stood still and he stayed the whole hours in hieratic attitude, like in ecstasy or something; meanwhile, in there, inside the darkness of his closed mouth, the toungue stroke the broken teeth withouth thinking. - The boy is fine, Pabl

                          Juan Antonio Pérez Bonalde   To my sister Elodia   Ey Land!, screams the navigator from the bow and confused and distant so a very indecisive line between the mists and the waves is spied; Little by Little the breast all over the horizon is standing, above the quiet ether, blue summit of a mountain; and just as our ship is getting closer; the hills for me streches and some different shapes takes a new order; ways that I have seen just when I dreamed in exile about hapiness. The eye discern a distance just in the riverside drawn by palm trees and the awesome breeze flooded with the escence of wild violets and orange blossoms seen, in my memory enlighten the joyful memory of my inocence, when poor of years and sorrows, and rich of greace and joy under all the palms aroused I used to enjoy listening the doves’ lull I always asume that drinking all the light are breathing perfumes.   There is this something