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MEMORIES IN SPACE

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The end of time
The start of life
Are topics left in space
far from our minds

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I REMEMBER

As I look at your pictures
I remember those years
When we talked
About life

They’re memories in space
Sounds that float in air
And fade away
In the infinity of time

Your memory is alive
In the world inside me
And in the universe
I see at night

Your words I hear
Like echoes from the past
Flowing through my soul
And reaching for the stars



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YO ME ACUERDO

Cuando miro tus fotos
Yo me acuerdo de otros tiempos
Son memorias en el espacio

Imagenes que van al viento
Y ruedan por el infinito
Tu memoria esta viva

En el mundo mio
Y en el universo
De la noche indefinida

Tus palabras son ecos del pasado
Que entran a mi alma
Y se van a las estrellas

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SIETE MINUTOS

Tu vives en mi alma
Y en el infinito
Mientras el tiempo pasa

Y las estrellas siguen
Su carrera
Por el espacio indefinido

Donde los siete minutos
Llegaran un dia
Que no esperamos

Cuando todo se acaba
El fuego llueve del cielo
Y la tierra se mueve

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NO HISTORY

I want to find

The path of your life

As memories get erased

With the passage of time


I must uncover

The trail of you

Across the years

Where you’ve dissolved


With no past

Disappearing into infinity

Leaving my time

And the world of life


Without any traces

Of that instant

As we’ve known it

When you made history

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SEVEN MI NUTES

Fog has invaded my world
Since I awoke this morning
And the sun has swollen

I see a hazy land
Out of my window
As planes fall off the sky

And the northern lights
Dance up in the clouds
I have seven minutes

To prepare myself
For the end
Of life as we know it

Light gets more intense
Two minutes are left
Preceding Armageddon

One minute more
Before we see the sun blown apart
By forces unknown to me

The time has come
I say my farewells
As the end gets nearer

It’s time zero
As you hold my hand
And kiss me Good Bye



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SEVEN MINUTES

Homer, money you chased
From babyhood to old age
Then Mario wrote those letters
Of sweet, funny scenes

Throughout a country gone mad
While bureaucrats swam in an orgy
Of blocked roads and crumbling buses
And ghosts danced frantically

At the sound of drums
Homer, you’ve changed my life
With your yacht
And women

All false
And full of appeal
Until the most famous people
Gathered in that ship

To see the end of the world
As the Beatles played
Their melodious songs
And the sun exploded

In a big bang
Homer the clever
Dreamed by a glorious mind
Interred in the depths of a book

Never published to the world
Sulking in the midst of time
Buried in an orgy of dust
Under a bed

Homer you’re my hero!

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BY NEXT SUMMER

I’m translating your work
Published long ago
In a book
With yellowing pages

Dotted here and there
With dark spots
Of old age
Remembering you

In your words
I hope to publish
Before the summer ends
I will give you

The glory
You wanted
For your novel






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THE UNIVERSE

I wish I had been there
At the beginning of time
To stop you from blowing yourself up
And producing all of these worlds

Full of beings
Who think they’re intelligent
But start wars without a cause
Filled with misery

You should have thought of a plan
Before your Big-Bang
Sending us into a relativity confusion
Of black holes

Denying the rules of physics
Where not even light can escape
Let alone our molecules
Of carbon life

Are you open or closed
Either way we’ll face a bad end
In a few billion years
Where we’ll either freeze or get crunched

Back to a pulp
If mathematic calculations
Prove to be right
And we’re heading towards

A catastrophic climax
Worse than many black holes
Or countless illegal wars
Invented by our leaders

AMEN

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I THINK OF YOU

You’re always in my mind
As I look at the skies
And at the wonders of life

You told me of galaxies
In far away places
And how their light journeyed

Throughout space
To come to us
You’ve become a star

Far and remote
In the heavens of my soul
As the years continue

Their relentless march
Through time
You’ll always live in my mind



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IN MEMORY OF DAD

I have memories of you

Happy events of my childhood

Shrouded in fog

Dimmed by the years



As I remember you

I dissolve in tears

A proud man

Has been reduced to dust



What lies under the mud

It’s not my dad

He’s gone forever

And only lives in my mind

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SEVEN MINUTES

Homer, money you chased
From babyhood to old age
Then Mario wrote those letters
Of sweet, funny scenes

Throughout a country gone mad
While bureaucrats swam in an orgy
Of blocked roads and crumbling buses
And ghosts danced frantically

At the sound of drums
Homer, you’ve changed my life
With your yacht
And women

All false
And full of appeal
Until the most famous people
Gathered in that ship

To see the end of the world
As the Beatles played
Their melodious songs
And the sun exploded

In a big bang
Homer the clever
Dreamed by a glorious mind
Interred in the depths of a book

Never published to the world
Sulking in the midst of time
Buried in an orgy of dust
Under a bed

Homer you’re my hero

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I THINK OF YOU

You’re always in my mind
As I look at the skies
And at the wonders of life

You told me of galaxies
In far away places
And how their light journeyed

Throughout space
To come to us
You’ve become a star

Far and remote
In the heavens of my soul
As the years continue

Their relentless march
Through time
You’ll always live in my mind

Writer's page

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Rain splatters on the windows
As my soul feels lonely

I chose a path
To take me to glory

But it failed
I’m at the mercy of intolerance

And the bad spirits
Who haunt me

Amidst the debris of time
And the end of reason

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JOSE ISMAEL CAMACHO

A LIFE

I’m sharing with you the life of a clever, funny and gifted writer, a man who could talk about any topic and knew everything. A father that I miss and wished he could have been preserved for eternity.

Santander del Norte was a quiet province in northern Colombia at the beginning of the twentieth century. It had been rocked a few times by the wars between the liberales and the conservadores during the last century. In a quiet village called Lebrija an hour away from Bucaramanga, a young woman (Josefina Camacho) went in labour. She already had two other children and had lost a few others at birth.

Little Horacio Camacho was five years old and his sister Lijia, three years old when they waited with their father outside the room. As Josefina pushed for a last time, a rose faced child appeared in the world with locks of fair hair.

The two children heard the baby crying and pushed the door as the father- Ismael Camacho- admired the new addition to the family. The midwife cleaned the child and cut the umbilical cord.

She didn’t let her Ismael hold the child as Josefina had lost another baby during the previous year. He led his two other children out of the room and gave them some lunch, while the midwife made sure mother and baby were all right.

That evening little Jose Ismael slept in a small cot by his mother’s side. The sound of the cockerels singing woke them up the next morning. As the child cried, Josefina put him to her breast. The memory of the other children who had died young was fresh in her mind.

Jose Ismael grew up into a chubby child with golden curls. He played with his brother and sister in the countryside around their home. His peaceful childhood was shattered when his father died. Jose Ismael was five years old while Ligia and Horacio were six and eight years old.

They travelled on the back of a few mules, to a town where Josefina's uncles lived. That journey across the mountains must have been exciting for a five year old boy.

It was the ninety thirties and the country didn’t have many roads. Jose Ismael didn’t remember much of his trek through the countryside. Josefina was a young woman who had just lost her husband. She wanted to give her children a better life and education.

Little Horacio did recall the slow pace of the mules along the path. A friend travelled with them on another mule. He had a map of the region where the path sneaked through the mountains and towards the next province.

They stopped to rest and ate their food in a lay by. Josefina had brought boiled eggs, potatoes and water bottles. It was a big adventure for the children who had never left the town where they had been born.

They slept in a tent by a river that evening as the mules munched the grass. Their friend got up early next morning to saddle the mules in preparation for the journey.

The children ran in the field in the morning. It was a great adventure for them all, even if the weather was a bit cold and they felt tired.

They played hide and seek while their mother and friend got ready to leave.

Jose Ismael hid behind a bush as Horacio looked for him but then a fox frightened him.

Josefina put the child on the mule as the man helped the other two children on the other one. She was a strong woman who had chosen to trek across the mountains to find her family. She needed their support in this stressful time.

The mountains followed each other like an immense kaleidoscope as they went in their journey. They had left the province of Santander behind and the lush grass had given way to the plains where cows lay by rivers and ravines.

The mules moved through the landscape of green vegetation and steep fields while nature rejoiced in life.

As they went deeper inside the Boyaca Province, they saw small houses while children wearing colourful ruanas looked at them. A dog barked at the mules and a woman appeared at a door.

“We are on our way to Choconta,” Josefina said.

The woman invited them to go in her house to rest. It had started to rain and Josefina was glad to wait in the hut until the weather cleared.

The woman offered them hot chocolate while puppies ran by their feet. Then she gestured at Josefina’s friend.

“You’re very brave to travel across the country with your husband and children, on the back of mules.”

“He’s just a friend,” Josefina said. “My husband died a few weeks ago. My uncles live in Choconta.”

“I’m sorry about your husband,” the woman said.

The sun was shining a few minutes later.

“Thanks for the drink,” Josefina said. “We must go now.”

They went back on the mules while the dog barked. The animals trotted on the muddy path as the sun shone in the sky and the vegetation changed. They saw coffee plantations in the fields stretching to the horizon.

They arrived at Choconta later. The town had small houses but the church tower was then tallest building of them all. The mules sensed the end of their journey and trotted towards their goal.

Josefina with little Ismael were the first ones to enter the town and people looked at them from their houses as children played in the streets.

They found the church behind the park and the sound of the choir spilled into the surrounding streets.

The man helped them to dismount from their donkeys and they entered the church as Father Ricardo read the sermon.

He was a little man, who pushed his big glasses up his nose as he talked. He paused to look at the new arrivals but then he resumed his speech.

Father Ricardo hugged Josefina and the children after mass.

“I was expecting you,” he said.

He was a catholic priest who believed in the kingdom of God, and helped to bring their belongings inside the church.

The man who had accompanied the family to Choconta stayed in the house that night. He would go back to Lebrija in Santander the next day.

Josefina and her children were tired after the long journey. Father Ricardo took them to their rooms at the back of a house after they had their dinner.

His brother- Father Felipe- met the family that evening. He had only seen Josefina once before. He admired the young widow who had journeyed through the mountains to come to Choconta.

The uncles taught the children all about religion and the bible. The family had to move a few more times, but they paid for the children’s education.

My father was 14 years old when the second war world started. He used to read everything about the conflict. He liked going to the movies to see films and the trailers of the time.

He was a clever boy, who did very well in the school. He had inherited his mother’s blond hair and fair skin. His sister Ligia and his brother Horacio looked more like their father.

Jose Ismael finished school and studied medicine at the Universidad Nacional of Bogota. He got his degree in medicine and married his second cousin, Cecilia Mogollon, on the 14 of February 1952.

Maria Cecilia Camacho (The writer of this page) was born on the fifteenth of February1953. My brother Ismael Hernando Camacho was born onthe thirty first of May 1954

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