I don,t know what made me more excited, whether to know that Marisol was Jose luis Perales´sister or to know she was the author of the lyrics of my favorite children song including "Once upon a time a sad and dark planet ..", by the way, I have realized that in 1979, when the television series premiered, I was 17 years old! Obviously not a child anymore, but my childlike spirit was still intact.
The fact, it was at that moment when I learned that the poet Jesús Urceloy presented the first book of poetry for adults by Marisol Perales. And there I was, ready to enjoy the event, and I did it .
First of all I enjoyed a pleasant morning breeze and the warmth September sunshine, having a coffee (with Lotus cookies included) on the corner of Calle Mayor and Bailén. I took some notes letting my head fly a little towards my next children's book of poems, and also enjoying Sacramento Street with its houses and coats of arms attached to its facades.
The Iván de Vargas Municipal Library, where the book in question was presented, is a unique building, with a glazed patio in which you are surprised by two impressive magnolias that according to their appearance would have preferred to be palm trees. I leave you a link to inform you of this little library jewel, its history and uses. There are guided tours of the library.
Coming down from the magnolia, I always beat around the bush , I will look for some flower in the work of Marisol Perales. Flowers. If you look for them you always find them, especially in the voice of the poet, there is no poet who claims to call himself that and has never written a poem where the flower appears, being born, growing, dying or resurrecting.
And indeed in the poetry book of Marisol Perales they are present, it could not be otherwise.
That is why I have chosen the title of this entry among one of his verses:
I wanted to decorate the morning with roses, that's what she does, decorate the morning with "verses".
In the poem "Return" the flowers are present again:
"...Y vuelvo al mes de mayo con flores a MarÃa
"y al corro chirimbolo y a la pata coja".
Vuelvo al nido de abeja al festón y al pespunte,
al tÃtulo de un libro..."
Jesús Urceloy tells us in the book's prologue that "... Marisol constructs the verse with millimeter thoroughness but with such simplicity that seems that the verse is so natural like breath.
Sentimentality and work. Life and memory. The condition that makes us human and not just pass through the dull corridor of life, that corridor that needs the small light of each one turned on for the others..."
This Air, is like opening a chest and finding pieces, pieces of paper ordered by dates, by experiences, by vital stages, it is an orderly transit, because Marisol must have a head where everything takes its place. If her "head" was dirty and not very clean and tidy, there are her childhood memories, which have helped to forge a character that does not let itself be overcome by heartbreak or the vicissitudes of life. I know, I know, I'm putting Marisol through the roof, but it's what I feel after reading and listening her, because actually...! it's the first time I've seen it in my life! But as I think that she leaves the door open and tells me "come in , come in,you are at home" I do it. The love for her children and the pride for her grandchildren, by the way, all handsome, in short, it is noticeable that here is someone who has dedicated a lot of time to family"
In this work, Marisol collects the harvest of a full life, each poem is a spike and thus the verse is born. His poems arrive without torment, in the words of St. John of the Cross "being already my house calm", they are words ruminated over time until they have managed to become a good food for the soul and arrive in peace, without great noise or like Profesor Urceloy would say "it,s no necesary punish yourself "
Save me.
From a night without stars
Of the four colors of the atmosphere
From the bathroom mirror
Of the flowers that never rise
but... do not be fooled here you will not find simplicity here you find deep and delicious verses.