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Guardianes del Memorial(1)
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His Children
Rafael E. Silva, M.D.
4 de marzo de 1921 - 21 de agosto de 2020
4 de marzo de 1921 - 21 de agosto de 2020
Eventos
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Homenajes
Comparte un recuerdo favorito, envía condolencias y honra la vida de Rafael con un mensaje sincero.
His Children
A Favorite Poem of Rafael that he would recite to his children. Annabel Lee BY EDGAR ALLAN POE It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love- I and my Annabel Lee- With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me- Yes!-that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we- Of many far wiser than we- And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling-my darling-my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea- In her tomb by the sounding sea.
His Children
A Favorite Poem of Rafael that he recited to his oldest daughter, Lourdes, as a child. Los Zapaticos de Rosa Jose Marti Hay sol bueno y mar de espumas, Y arena fina, y Pilar Quiere salir a estrenar Su sombrerito de pluma. "¡Vaya la niña divina!" Dice el padre, y le da un beso, "Vaya mi pájaro preso A buscarme arena fina!". "Yo voy con mi niña hermosa", Le dijo la madre Buena, "¡No te manches en la arena Los zapaticos de rosa!" Fueron las dos al jardín Por la calle del laurel: La madre cogió un clavel Y Pilar cogió un jazmín. Ella va de todo juego, Con aro, y balde y paleta: El balde es color violeta, El aro es color de fuego. Vienen a verlas pasar, Nadie quiere verlas ir, La madre se echa a reír, Y un viejo se echa a llorar. El aire fresco despeina A Pilar, que viene y va Muy oronda:"¡Dí, mamá! ¿Tú sabes qué cosa es reina?"
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