cold it can not play worse

cold it can not play worse

It is the first time I post something and although I have a lot of time with the text now I share

Happy New Year to those who cultivate the child that you live, play on the slide of the rainbow, the moon cut into slices of cheese and giant round play around the Sun, because they know that life is short and annoying attachments.
Happy New Year to the liberators of stuffed birds, believing in the miracle of the resurrection and despise the signs of death, convinced that love overcomes the pain and makes life on the concept.

Happy New Year to those who make the shelter alone, a source and exercise of flight, know the value of each word and the importance of the jump back up to speed, convinced that we must learn to close my eyes to see better.
Happy New Year to those who cultivate the paradoxes and it bears no certainty, only faith, and never raises his voice to imcolocar reason, or considered the lord of all truths, in your soul the lessons of suffering and provides to such a mystery and a passion.

Happy new year man, at the end of each evening, turn on the lights of the city, taking care not to turn off the shadows and does not allow the noise to invade the night the day, causing the distraction of the owls.
Happy new year to collectors of memories, which do not allow the time off, reinventing the past disguised future, photos and paintings included in the landscape that no longer exists, revive memories of the old and do not support or stifle melancholy blood hope.

Happy New Year to those who exceed the loaded word of bitterness, balanced offense and has no pleasure in the misfortune of others, empty his heart of all pride, arrogance never puts his voice and becomes united with those who have these small disagreements that human inflate as major problems.
Happy New Year to those that increase their research steps out, and keep your answers in the garden where they plant utopias, never despise the wisdom of the poor, the direction of the wind and the morning of Sunday, confident that there is gout of rain, offered between thunder and lightning, then heated by the sun dry

Happy New Year to those who applauded, above the orchards, the prophets, who come into the city disguised as beggars and prefer judgments contrary to the logic of war, overriding all dislike arguments and uncovering the cynical face of people who make a podium to his unbridled narcissism.
Happy new year to paint butterflies color the sky of our dreams, and turtles that mature, calm, over time, and the fish that never had the curiosity to know the surface of the water, and mules in the bottom of the mines, what blind drag full brightness the human eye.

Happy New Year to whom he never disowned his family and does not bloody ink recorded the feelings counted. Before, transubstantiation in love kinship ties, bread and wine in food for the table, weaving unforgettable party and affection, invisible wire, the complicity of the tribe.
Happy new year hands of everyday cooking, the smell of flavored coffee at dawn, the skin of milk taken in cream, beans tasted one by one as rosary beads, rice reheated in the tenderness and sweet tea on the afternoon of Sighs.
Happy New Year to those who dare plunge into the fountain itself and bring in left swallowed by the Ineffable, transmuted into the being that in fact are.

Frei Betto is a writer, author of "Gosto grape" (Garamond), among other books.
Ramírez led to Ada.