Yuvia's Page
Yuvia's Groups
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Pagan Teachers of the World
(111 members)
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Anything goes
(29 members)
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Fit As A Witch
(427 members)
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Occult & Fiction Writers
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Profile
- Relationship Status:
- Single
- Age
- 30
- Country
- Mexico
- Astrological Sign
- Virgo
- Website:
- http://yuvia.deviantart.com
- About Me:
- I'm 30 years old. I live in Juarez. I am a witch. Eclectic if you may. I like to write and read, I love to learn new things from others. I teach Biology at a high school. I love all kinds of music and animals, specially cats and horses. I have a fascination with the moon that I cannot bring into words -- maybe you can do it for me.
- Favorite Books
- Penzack's collection, Angels A to Z, Harry Potter series, Senora de los Suenos, Demasiado Amor, The Real America, Inconvenient Book, Grden Spells, Wednesday Letters, Cien Anos de Soledad, Del Amor y otros Demonios, La Noche de Tlatelolco, Los Trenes, 101 Night Spells...
- Beliefs / Practices
- Occultist, Pagan, Witch
- Hobbies
- reading, writing, listening to talk radio
- Heroes
- My mom...
- Likes
- Manga, Books, quills, inks, computers, people, cats, dolphins, to go out on sundays and take a very long drive across the borders, to come to the coffee place here and drink expensive coffee, to teach
- Dislikes
- people who hurt others
- How did you find PaganSpace?
- just a coincidence
Loco
David Lee Murphy
Little Hula girls on the shot glass.
All we need's a little salt and lime.
We can plug in the hot pepper lights and pretend,
That we're livin' on Key West time.
I can run to the store an' get some charcoal,
Buy a tikki torch an' fire up the grill.
The whole town wants to know when I'm gonna grow up,
But you know I never will.
Yeah, I might be a little bit loco,
But it keeps me from losin' my mind.
Oh, but half insane, that's ok, babe,
A little bit crazy's all right.
There's nothin' wrong with a little excitement;
No, it makes me forget about work.
'Cause I live by the rule that everything's cool,
Just as long as nobody gets hurt.
Hey, I feel like I'm on vacation.
Honey, you say the word and we'll go.
'Cause you're getting to me in those cut off jeans,
And that T-shirt from Sloppy Joe's.
Yeah, I might be a little bit loco,
But it keeps me from losin' my mind.
Oh, but half insane, that's ok, babe,
A little bit crazy's all right.
Yeah, the deep end might be so close,
Oh, that I'm hangin' on for dear life.
Yeah, I might be a little bit loco, baby,
But a little bit crazy's all right.
That's right.
Yeah, I might be a little bit loco,
But it keeps me from losin' my mind.
Oh, but half insane, that's ok, babe,
A little bit crazy's all right.
Yeah, the deep end might be so close,
Oh, that I'm hangin' on for dear life.
Yeah, I might be a little bit loco, baby,
But a little bit crazy's all right.
Yeah, I might be a little bit loco,
But it keeps me from losin' my mind.
Well, I might be a little bit loco, baby,
But, a little bit crazy's all right.
You're crazy, baby.
Might be a little bit loco, baby,
But, a little bit crazy's all right.
Yuvia's Blog
Barbwire and Roses
Posted on June 23rd, 2008 at 10:05pm —
No Comments (Add)
Loco
Posted on May 13th, 2008 at 11:30am —
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Feathers
Kalavan got a kick out of this one.
He woke up mind you -- frisky. He's been bugging me with wind and breeze, lifting my skirt and making me shiver. But, aside from all that, he's a good guardian.
As of lately, I've been looking back at the past. It's not something tha… Continue
Posted on April 25th, 2008 at 11:00am —
No Comments (Add)
It's a Fine Day
Today was a very nice day. Today was a good day.
I asked the Goddess and God for advice... and they looked down upon me and held my hand.
I had been feeling somewhat blue the past couple of weeks. Dunno why. Maybe it's the stress of having a humongous amount… Continue
Posted on April 11th, 2008 at 9:08pm —
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It's a bit new
Posted on April 8th, 2008 at 1:37pm —
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El tiempo,
el tiempo,
el tiempo se murió
y lo van a enterrar
dentro de un gran reloj
con las manos cruzadas
a las diez y a las dos;
que sí,
que no,
que el tiempo se murió
y nadie sabe, nadie,
a qué hora sucedió:
que sí,
que no,
que el tiempo se murió.
click the Picture
Besarse, mujer,
al sol, es besarnos
e toda la vida.
Ascienden los labios
eléctricamente
vibrantes los rayos,
con todo el fulgor
de un sol entre cuatro.
Besarse a la luna,
mujer, es besarnos
en toda la muerte.
Descienden los labios
con toda la luna
pidiendo su ocaso,
gastada y helada
y en cuatro pedazos.
click the Pictures
Esos ojos que he besado
se fijan en otros ojos
y de mi sólo despojos
pues marchaste de mi lado
La cama luce vacía
pues extraña tu presencia
no se acostumbra a tu ausencia
tristeza de cada día
Todo silencio el ambiente
de tu voz falta el sonido
ese decir se ha perdido
no sabes como se siente
Mi mente siempre obstinada
me recuerda tu figura
y tu piel y su tersura
y tu perfume en la almohada
click the Pictures
Susúrrame mientras despierto,
con delicadeza.
Que quiero sentirme repleta,
de tu dulce amor.
Que ardan deseos inmersos,
en tiernas caricias.
Que cubran y llenen mi cuerpo,
de voraz pasión.
Susúrrame mientras me duermo,
con suma ternura.
Que quiero soñar en tus brazos,
hasta ver el sol.
Amarte y saciar por completo,
mi piel con la tuya.
Sentir que me llenas la vida.
Que vivo…… tu amor.
Clik en la Imagen
Esa mujer tan soñada
intenso verde sus ojos
brillante sus labios rojos
y que pretendo mi amada
Es más que una fantasía
es mi preciada ilusión
la que nubla la razón
noche a noche, día a día
Ya turba mi corazón
también alteró mi alma
por ella extravié la calma
quizás pierda la razón
Una pizca de atención
un cruce de su mirada
una cita concertada
contentarán mi pasión
click the Pictures
Te regalo un beso, pero no un beso cualquiera sino un beso de amor…
Alguna vez me preguntaste que ¿cuál sería el regalo que yo quisiera recibir? Pues me puse a pensar y la imaginación comenzó a volar: Yo no quiero que me regales, solo quiero que me correspondas, si, simplemente que cuando llegue el día que te pueda besar, ese beso se convierta en un beso de amor, el regalo que yo quiero es que me correspondas a mi regalo: ¡un beso de amor!
Un beso que comience tímidamente, que nuestros labios apenas se rocen, se acaricien. Un beso en el que ese primer momento genere un intenso deseo. Un beso donde la caricia se convierta en fusión. Un beso el que tus labios se acaricien con los míos y se friccionen más fuertemente, esa fricción que produce reacción química, conexión de sentimiento, donde la saliva lubrica el roce, donde su sabor termina siendo un licor que embriaga que provoca seguir saboreándolo desde de adentro. Ese beso donde nuestras lenguas comienzan a empalagarse de nuestros fluidos. Donde se quieren conocer, tocarse devorarse.
Quiero regalarte esa pasión correspondida, que hace que los labios míos se coman los tuyos, que mi lengua te acaricie el paladar y la tuya se mueva en mi boca como la de una serpiente que quiere inyectar un líquido que solo produce placer.
Y mientras nuestra lengua y labios descubren los secretos y puntos sensuales se dispara un mecanismo que hace que nuestras manos no se queden quietas, comienzan a moverse para acariciar abrazar y apretarnos. Esas manos hacen que nos entrelacemos, que nuestros cuerpos se junten y cada parte de nuestro cuerpo quiera hacer lo mismo que hacemos con la boca y los labios. Que el deseo, el sudor, las pulsaciones se generen de ambos lados.
En realidad, el único regalo que quiero es que me dejes amarte… aunque sea en mi imaginación!
click the Pictures
Regálame un poco de ese amor
Ese amor que tanto escondes.
Se mía, ven a mi
Ven pues te necesito
Necesito sentir tus suaves manos
Necesito sentir tus suaves labios
Necesito sentir tus hermosos senos
Necesito sentir que solo a mi me perteneces...
click the Pictures
This legend of vampires is 125 A.C. was originally written in Greek.
The vampire legends originated from east to west in bars of caravans along the Silk Road through the Mediterranean.
From there spread to Asia and then to land Slavonic and Carpathians.
The myths were originally more closely associated with Iran, then migrated around the eighth century, where they are now. Almost as soon as arrived, the process of Christianization began vampire legends and myths as survived.
Later Gypsies migrated from the north west of India (where they have several myths of vampires), their myths and there were mixed with those of the Slavic people.
The Gypsies came to Transylvania briefly before Vlad Dracula was born in 1431.
The vampire here was the ghost of a dead person, which in most cases had been a witch, wizard.
There is fear of vampires, because they kill people but at the same time resemble them. But there are certain things that differentiate them from a living being, can not projecting any shade or can be reflected in any mirror. Besides the vampires can change shape, like a bat and that makes it extremely difficult to capture.
When you start a new day vampires have to sleep in their coffins by the rays of the sun kill, but awake at night bloodthirsty.
The most common form of flying is nurtured by a window in the form of a bat and then bite the victim in the neck and sucking all the blood.
The vampire can not enter a house without being invited, but as with a permit, may enter as often as they want.
The vampire is dangerous not only because it kills people but because they killed their victims after they become vampires.
The strongest side of vampires is that they are almost immortal, but a few very special rites could kill as: put a stake in his heart, cut his head or burn his body.
In the fifteenth century, one of the princes of Wallachia, the province under Turkish rule, located between the Transylvanian Alps and the Danube, is known as Vlad Dracula, the latter term means dragon, the king's emblem. When his son Vlad IV, born in 1430, what happens at the age of twenty-five years, received the title of Dracula, ie son of the Dragon.
Since his childhood, Vlad Tepes is confronted with violence. Go to his father murdered and his older brother buried alive.
He was educated as a Christian in Transylvania, but his father left him hostage between the Turks when I was only thirteen years, and suddenly the young Dracula was found surrounded by people whose language and religion did not understand. The father and mother Dracula returned home leaving the boy abandoned in Turkey, and the sultan held him there as a sort of human security which assured him that the father of Dracula not attack him. The couple Dracula was sent by boat until Egrigoz Castle, a fortress that was high in the inaccessible mountains of Asia Minor. Dracula was a prisoner hallo from 1444 to 1448, when she received the terrible news that her father had violated the pledge and the sultan had declared war on the Turks ... being fully agree that doing so endangered the life of his son. The father went so far to talk about it in a letter to several towns and cities in Transylvania. This terrible betrayal due Dracula teach that life is not worth much. Fortunately-but not thanks to his father - the sultan decided not to replicate killing Dracula, and continued to use it as a pawn in their plans and diplomatic negotiations. Vlad Dracula finally getting to seize power in southern Romania thanks to support from the Turks.
Vlad Tepes despite its grim personality, is still considered by many Romanians as a national hero for having attempted to liberate the Romanian provinces of Wallachia, Moldavia and Transylvania the demon of turkish invader. He is one of the most feared warriors heads by the occupation troops of Sultan Mehmed the Conqueror. However, in 1462, is defeated and must refugiace in Hungary, where he was again taken prisoner for political reasons until 1473.
Dracula did not want around any potential heir who might challenge its absolute power. On one occasion it was very bad temper, his lover committed the imprudence of believing that might encourage him by saying that she was pregnant because it assumed that Dracula was glad to hear this good news.
Dracula was not happy told him, and took a knife and opened a channel to . Dracula used all sorts of procedures to eliminate any young rival to the throne: Dracula's father had been illegitimate and managed to prevail, so that Dracula sought to get rid of both legitimate and illegitimate children.
The stake impalement on a wooden or iron, is his favorite method for desacerce of Turkish prisoners or their opponents-hence if nickname. In the fifteenth century, its cruelty and is known German engraving of 1499 is shown celebrating amid the corpses impalement. An estimated 50,000 to 100,000 the number of its victims impalement, burned or even skinned alive during his short reign of a dozen years. As subtle refinement Prince often sends oil or blunt the tip of the stakes to prolong the agony of their execution.
Its sadism knows no limits: local chronicles that have to punish some non-Turkish emissaries were discovered in his presence, orders that were key fez in the skull. On another occasion, gathering sends a large number of poor and handicapped in a large hall closed on the pretext of inviting them to a banquet and ordered burned. One day Vlad asks a friend who thinks Forest, which were an endless number of people impalement.
And the friend replied: "Well, somewhat smells bad ..." Then Vlad the impalement and asked, "Does being up there makes it smell better?".
Impalement usually the infidels and promiscuous women, not just Vlad impalement also killed people by cutting their sexual organs or being skinned alive and then exposing them in public.
Vlad enjoyed mass executions. On another occasion, ordered Vlad put a table with a banquet in front of their victims impalement, to enjoy a slow dinner in the midst of this landscape of agony and death.
Having invaded the province of Cinibio, fire muchisimos very inhabited villages and, with this spirit, dragged up Valašsko many men
Chained to those who did impalement.
Some merchants, who felt attracted by the promise of protection by the state, were stripped of all their property and killed while crossing Valašsko loaded with precious goods.
I direct that take you from Vurcia 400 children to teach the language of Wallachia, instead, made them lock in a furnace to be burned.
He who murdered the most noble men of his ilk and all his close relatives, along with their wives and children. He bury some
its servers until the navel and went through with his arrows; many others skinned.
Battle to capture in a certain Daymara, son of another Daymara voi-voda; while he was still alive and conscious, build him a tomb and ordered the
priests to conduct their funerals; once they were completed, the severed head of the prisoner. Fifty-three ambassadors who had been invited by transilvanos were thrown into prison and, after having invaded their land, taking advantage of the fact that they could not take any hostile attitude, decimating everything in the iron and fire. He impalement to Ceilino, head of its troops, because he had not managed to meet its monstrosity.
He impalement Vurcia men, who had fallen into their hands while en route to another province. At one Zegano, which rejected hang with their own hands to a thief who had been taken prisoner, he did cook in a large boiler and gave it to eat their fellow citizens. He came to boot from the womb of their mothers to babies who were sucking for stars against a rock to them. At the province of Transylvania, summoned all Vlachs that live there, offering their friendship; once had gathered, the soldiers launched against them and exterminated, then burned their villages. It is said that with these methods killed more than 30,000 people.
In the year 1462, the emperor of the Turks, whose power was subject, asked him a tribute. Answering that would go personally to take up Adrianópolis, then requested a letter to show that the prefects of the place to travel, killed prefects Turks who went to meet them and, after making real massacres in the towns that stood in its path, killed more than 25,000 people of both sexes, even among those who perished some beautiful virgins, although as wives had been ordered by the Vlachs. It took until Valašsko a large number of prisoners, some of whom were skinned, others were roasted on the fire crossed by iron rods and other facts were in boiling oil, the rest were impalement, the area where these events occurred seemed a jungle of sticks. L. J Having committed such misdeeds, was finally caught by Matias, king of Hungary, the same winter in which Pope Pius returned to Rome from Todi. [...]
During a battle with Turkish that tubo place in late 1476, Dracula became the uniform of a soldier turkish order to better inspect the battlefield. He found few soldiers theirs, and they're not recognized because of the disguise of turkish arrows and shot him. Dracula kill five or six soldier with his spear, but the numerical inferiority was overwhelming: the soldiers fired more arrows and killed him. After he cut off his head and was handed over to the Turks as a trophy of victory because the Turkish troops still have a terrible fear the man who called the . The sultan showed the head of Dracula's castle walls in the Topkapi in Istanbul.
click the Pictures
El presidente de los Estados Unidos, Franklin Pierce, envía en 1854 una oferta al jefe Seattle, de la tribu Suwamish, para comprarle los territorios del noroeste de los Estados Unidos que hoy forman el Estado de Wáshington. A cambio, promete crear una "reservación" para el pueblo indígena. El jefe Seattle responde en 1855.
El Gran Jefe Blanco de Wáshington ha ordenado hacernos saber que nos quiere comprar las tierras. El Gran Jefe Blanco nos ha enviado también palabras de amistad y de buena voluntad. Mucho apreciamos esta gentileza, porque sabemos que poca falta le hace nuestra amistad. Vamos a considerar su oferta pues sabemos que, de no hacerlo, el hombre blanco podrá venir con sus armas de fuego a tomar nuestras tierras. El Gran Jefe Blanco de Wáshington podrá confiar en la palabra del jefe Seattle con la misma certeza que espera el retorno de las estaciones. Como las estrellas inmutables son mis palabras.
¿Cómo se puede comprar o vender el cielo o el calor de la tierra? Esa es para nosotros una idea extraña.
Si nadie puede poseer la frescura del viento ni el fulgor del agua, ¿cómo es posible que usted se proponga comprarlos?
Cada pedazo de esta tierra es sagrado para mi pueblo. Cada rama brillante de un pino, cada puñado de arena de las playas, la penumbra de la densa selva, cada rayo de luz y el zumbar de los insectos son sagrados en la memoria y vida de mi pueblo. La savia que recorre el cuerpo de los árboles lleva consigo la historia del piel roja.
Los muertos del hombre blanco olvidan su tierra de origen cuando van a caminar entre las estrellas. Nuestros muertos jamás se olvidan de esta bella tierra, pues ella es la madre del hombre piel roja. Somos parte de la tierra y ella es parte de nosotros. Las flores perfumadas son nuestras hermanas; el ciervo, el caballo, el gran águila, son nuestros hermanos. Los picos rocosos, los surcos húmedos de las campiñas, el calor del cuerpo del potro y el hombre, todos pertenecen a la misma familia.
Por esto, cuando el Gran Jefe Blanco en Wáshington manda decir que desea comprar nuestra tierra, pide mucho de nosotros. El Gran Jefe Blanco dice que nos reservará un lugar donde podamos vivir satisfechos. Él será nuestro padre y nosotros seremos sus hijos. Por lo tanto, nosotros vamos a considerar su oferta de comprar nuestra tierra. Pero eso no será fácil. Esta tierra es sagrada para nosotros. Esta agua brillante que se escurre por los riachuelos y corre por los ríos no es apenas agua, sino la sangre de nuestros antepasados. Si les vendemos la tierra, ustedes deberán recordar que ella es sagrada, y deberán enseñar a sus niños que ella es sagrada y que cada reflejo sobre las aguas limpias de los lagos hablan de acontecimientos y recuerdos de la vida de mi pueblo. El murmullo de los ríos es la voz de mis antepasados.
Los ríos son nuestros hermanos, sacian nuestra sed. Los ríos cargan nuestras canoas y alimentan a nuestros niños. Si les vendemos nuestras tierras, ustedes deben recordar y enseñar a sus hijos que los ríos son nuestros hermanos, y los suyos también. Por lo tanto, ustedes deberán dar a los ríos la bondad que le dedicarían a cualquier hermano.
Sabemos que el hombre blanco no comprende nuestras costumbres. Para él una porción de tierra tiene el mismo significado que cualquier otra, pues es un forastero que llega en la noche y extrae de la tierra aquello que necesita. La tierra no es su hermana sino su enemiga, y cuando ya la conquistó, prosigue su camino. Deja atrás las tumbas de sus antepasados y no se preocupa. Roba de la tierra aquello que sería de sus hijos y no le importa.
La sepultura de su padre y los derechos de sus hijos son olvidados. Trata a su madre, a la tierra, a su hermano y al cielo como cosas que puedan ser compradas, saqueadas, vendidas como carneros o adornos coloridos. Su apetito devorará la tierra, dejando atrás solamente un desierto.
Yo no entiendo, nuestras costumbres son diferentes de las suyas. Tal vez sea porque soy un salvaje y no comprendo.
No hay un lugar quieto en las ciudades del hombre blanco. Ningún lugar donde se pueda oír el florecer de las hojas en la primavera o el batir las alas de un insecto. Mas tal vez sea porque soy un hombre salvaje y no comprendo. El ruido parece solamente insultar los oídos.
¿Qué resta de la vida si un hombre no puede oír el llorar solitario de un ave o el croar nocturno de las ranas alrededor de un lago?. Yo soy un hombre piel roja y no comprendo. El indio prefiere el suave murmullo del viento encrespando la superficie del lago, y el propio viento, limpio por una lluvia diurna o perfumado por los pinos.
El aire es de mucho valor para el hombre piel roja, pues todas las cosas comparten el mismo aire -el animal, el árbol, el hombre- todos comparten el mismo soplo. Parece que el hombre blanco no siente el aire que respira. Como una persona agonizante, es insensible al mal olor. Pero si vendemos nuestra tierra al hombre blanco, él debe recordar que el aire es valioso para nosotros, que el aire comparte su espíritu con la vida que mantiene. El viento que dio a nuestros abuelos su primer respiro, también recibió su último suspiro. Si les vendemos nuestra tierra, ustedes deben mantenerla intacta y sagrada, como un lugar donde hasta el mismo hombre blanco pueda saborear el viento azucarado por las flores de los prados.
Por lo tanto, vamos a meditar sobre la oferta de comprar nuestra tierra. Si decidimos aceptar, impondré una condición: el hombre blanco debe tratar a los animales de esta tierra como a sus hermanos.
Soy un hombre salvaje y no comprendo ninguna otra forma de actuar. Vi un millar de búfalos pudriéndose en la planicie, abandonados por el hombre blanco que los abatió desde un tren al pasar. Yo soy un hombre salvaje y no comprendo cómo es que el caballo humeante de hierro puede ser más importante que el búfalo, que nosotros sacrificamos solamente para sobrevivir.
¿Qué es el hombre sin los animales? Si todos los animales se fuesen, el hombre moriría de una gran soledad de espíritu, pues lo que ocurra con los animales en breve ocurrirá a los hombres. Hay una unión en todo.
Ustedes deben enseñar a sus niños que el suelo bajo sus pies es la ceniza de sus abuelos. Para que respeten la tierra, digan a sus hijos que ella fue enriquecida con las vidas de nuestro pueblo. Enseñen a sus niños lo que enseñamos a los nuestros, que la tierra es nuestra madre. Todo lo que le ocurra a la tierra, le ocurrirá a los hijos de la tierra. Si los hombres escupen en el suelo, están escupiendo en sí mismos.
Esto es lo que sabemos: la tierra no pertenece al hombre; es el hombre el que pertenece a la tierra. Esto es lo que sabemos: todas la cosas están relacionadas como la sangre que une una familia. Hay una unión en todo.
Lo que ocurra con la tierra recaerá sobre los hijos de la tierra. El hombre no tejió el tejido de la vida; él es simplemente uno de sus hilos. Todo lo que hiciere al tejido, lo hará a sí mismo.
Incluso el hombre blanco, cuyo Dios camina y habla como él, de amigo a amigo, no puede estar exento del destino común. Es posible que seamos hermanos, a pesar de todo. Veremos. De una cosa estamos seguros que el hombre blanco llegará a descubrir algún día: nuestro Dios es el mismo Dios.
Ustedes podrán pensar que lo poseen, como desean poseer nuestra tierra; pero no es posible, Él es el Dios del hombre, y su compasión es igual para el hombre piel roja como para el hombre piel blanca.
La tierra es preciosa, y despreciarla es despreciar a su creador. Los blancos también pasarán; tal vez más rápido que todas las otras tribus. Contaminen sus camas y una noche serán sofocados por sus propios desechos.
Cuando nos despojen de esta tierra, ustedes brillarán intensamente iluminados por la fuerza del Dios que los trajo a estas tierras y por alguna razón especial les dio el dominio sobre la tierra y sobre el hombre piel roja.
Este destino es un misterio para nosotros, pues no comprendemos el que los búfalos sean exterminados, los caballos bravíos sean todos domados, los rincones secretos del bosque denso sean impregnados del olor de muchos hombres y la visión de las montañas obstruida por hilos de hablar.
¿Qué ha sucedido con el bosque espeso? Desapareció.
¿Qué ha sucedido con el águila? Desapareció.
La vida ha terminado. Ahora empieza la supervivencia.
The U.S. president, Franklin Pierce, sent in 1854 a bid to head Seattle, the tribe Suwamish to buy the Northwest Territories of the United States which today form the State of Washington. In return, promises to create a "reservation" for indigenous people. The head responds Seattle in 1855.
The Great White Chief of Washington has ordered us to know that we want to buy land. The Grand Chief White also has sent us words of friendship and goodwill. Much appreciate this kindness, because we know that little absence makes our friendship. We will consider their offer because we know that failure to do so, the white man may come to their firearms to take our lands. The Great White Chief Washington may rely on the word of the Chief Seattle with the same certainty that the expected return of the seasons. As the stars are immutable my words.
How can buy or sell the sky or the heat of the earth? That is for us a strange idea.
If anyone can own the freshness of the wind nor the radiance of water, how can you intend to buy?
Each piece of this land is sacred to my people. Each branch of a pine brilliant, every handful of sand from the beaches, the penumbra of the dense jungle, every ray of light and the buzzing of insects are sacred in the memory and lives of my people. The sap that runs the body of the trees carries the history of red skin.
The dead man's white forget their homeland when they go to walk among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful land, since she is the mother of the man red skin. We are part of the land and it is part of us. The fragrant flowers are our sisters, deer, horse, the great eagle are our brothers. The rocky peaks, the furrows in the wet countryside, body heat of the foal and men, all belonging to the same family.
That is why, when the Great White Chief in Washington sends say you want to buy our land, asks much of us. The Grand Chief White said that we set aside a place where we can live happy. Being our father and we will be their children. Therefore, we will consider its offer to buy our land. But that will not be easy. This land is sacred to us. This brilliant water that is drained by creeks and runs through rivers is not just water but the blood of our ancestors. If they sell the land, you must remember that it is sacred and should teach their children that it is sacred and that every reflection on the clean waters of lakes speak of events and memories of the lives of my people. The murmur of rivers is the voice of my ancestors.
The rivers are our brothers, quench our thirst. Rivers loaded our canoes and feed our children. If we sell them our lands, you must remember and teach their children that the rivers are our brothers, and yours too. Therefore, you must give the rivers the kindness that he would devote to any brother.
We know that the white man does not understand our customs. For him a piece of land has the same meaning as any other, it is a stranger who arrives in the evening and extracted from the ground what they need. The earth is not his sister but his enemy, and when the conquered, continues its path. Leave behind the graves of their ancestors and not be concerned. Steals of land what would be their children and do not care.
The burial of his father and their children's rights are neglected. He treats his mother, land, his brother and the sky as things that can be bought, looted, sold as rams or colorful ornaments. His appetite will devour the earth, leaving behind only a desert.
I do not understand, our customs are different from theirs. Maybe because I am a savage and do not understand.
There is still a place in the cities of the white man. No place could hear the flourish of leaves in the spring or the beating wings of an insect. But perhaps because I am a wild man and I do not understand. The noise only seems to insult the ears.
What remains of life if a man can not hear the lonely mourn a bird or nocturnal croaking of frogs around a lake?. I am a man red skin and do not understand. The Indian prefers the soft murmur of the wind encrespando the surface of the lake, and the wind itself, clean by a rain day or scented by pine trees.
The air is much value to man red skin, because all things share the same air-animal, tree, man-all share the same breath. It seems that the white man does not feel the air we breathe. As a person dying, is insensitive to bad smell. But if we sell our land to the white man, he must remember that the air is valuable to us, that the air shares its spirit with the life that remains. The wind that gave our grandparents its first breath, also received his last breath. If we sell them our land, you should keep it intact and sacred, as a place where even the same white man can taste the sweet wind by meadows of flowers.
Therefore, we will reflect on the offer to buy our land. If we decide to accept, imposed one condition: the white man should treat animals in this land as their brothers.
I am a wild man and I do not understand any other way to act. I saw a thousand buffalo rotting in the plains, abandoned by the white man that hit from a train to pass. I am a wild man and I do not understand how the horse is steaming iron may be more important than the buffalo, we sacrifice just to survive.
What is man without the animals? If all animals were, men would die from a great loneliness of spirit, because what happens with animals soon happen to men. There is a union at all.
You must teach your children to the floor beneath your feet is the ashes of his grandparents. To respect the land, tell their children that she was enriched the lives of our people. Teach your children what we teach our own, that the earth is our mother. Everything that happens to land, you happen to the children of the earth. If men spit on the floor, they are spitting in themselves.
This is what we know: the earth does not belong to man, is the man who belongs to the earth. This is what we know: all things are connected like the blood that unites one family. There is a union at all.
What happens to land lie with the sons of the soil. The man did not weave the web of life; he is simply one of its threads. Anything that causes the tissue, it must do so himself.
Even the white man, whose God walks and talks like him, from friend to friend, can not be exempt from common destiny. It is possible that we are brothers, despite everything. See. Of one thing we are sure that the white man will discover someday: our God is the same God.
You may think that we have, as you would like to hold our ground, but it is not possible, he is the man of God, and his compassion is the same for men as for the skin red skin white man.
The land is precious, is scorn and contempt to its creator. Targets will also, perhaps faster than all other tribes. And their Contamin beds a night will be suffocated by their own waste.
When we offal of this land, you shine intensely illuminated by the power of God that brought these lands and for some special reason given dominion over the earth and man skin red.
This fate is a mystery to us, because we do not understand that the buffalo are exterminated, the horses are all Bravia Sun, the secret corners of the dense forest are impregnated odor of many men and vision of mountains blocked by wires to speak.
What has happened to the thick forest? Missing.
What has happened with the eagle? Missing.
Life is over. Now begins survival.
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