Oersted behind Maxwell's theory

Oersted behind Maxwell's theory

It takes place in Denmark in 1820 ... In an old shack lost in the forest ... It is night ... The storm brewing in the distance and the wind blows ... In this house, a man dealing with his work table: it is Hans Christian Oersted. What is it? Unspeakable experiences? 

No. He simply pass current in son, as do some time since a lot of physicists on the planet. But for him, this cold stormy night, these experiences will have an insignificant effect unexpected, a mysterious effect, whose impact on our civilization will be huge! He realizes indeed a compass placed not far away sees the needle deviate from its position, highlighting a remote influence. 

I'm desperate.

I'm desperate.

I loved very strong today ...Not like I used to.It becomes increasingly heavy, scary, scary ...My night is long ... very long and I feel through the passing of time and taunting me intense pain that breaks my senses.I do nothing but think of you constantly.Think ... without hope, without measure, in a desert of loneliness, uncertainty and anxiety.You're so far away, the distance but also by the inability to reach you, because you're not with me ... and you'll never be mine, certainly. It is this thought that torture me and makes my pain more unbearable increasingly heavy.

An hour to live (second act)

If you have not read the first act of the novel, click this link:  http://kamelspace.blogspot.com/2012/09/an-hour-to-live.html

An hour to live

Second act:

I have depression. I've taken three glasses of vodka with me ... I shut off my computer and go the intention to stretch my legs stiff from hours spent in front of my pc.

It is 23: 00

My campaign, Lottie, works in the office that we share. It does not concern me.

I do not watch it. She said, only when I open the door:

- Hej! George Stanna inte länge!

I do not answer, the waving and fate in the light mist that covers the area. Fresh air is good for me and I feel better already. I head to the 62, Norra Vallgatan a pub open until four in the morning. I meet a friend for a long time, Jimmie. I have not seen for some time. It is accompanied by two girls I do not know. He presents: Madlen and Edith ...

I lost you.

Poem, written October 14, 2012 at five o'clock in the morning, after a severe depression, to the memory of my great friend, Edith Brönwiski, died in 2007.at the age of 30 years.


''Jag älskar dig, min Edith!...Jag tänker på dig ... mycket stark''

I lost you.

You are the light, the rising sun and hope

My crazy dreams, my fantasies and my fiction.

You are the pearl of the desert, sapphire distant countries,

The morning dew of Eden, nirvana my eyes.

I lost you.

My heart, you're an ocean of love and bliss.

My soul belongs to me and you make it more

A reserve alacrity of spirit and beauty.

I feel that my energy through your divine breath.

I lost you.

In the evening of my life you take me in your arms velvet

Offer me your sun, your coolness, thy pomp

Your charm and grace.

You're bewitching beauty and elegance.

I lost you.

Mamãe

"Mom" ,poema traducido de Inglés a mis amigos, Portugués
escrito a la memoria de mi madre y todas las madres del mundo!

Mamãe

Eu quero dizer Olá para você, mamãe,
Eu choro no momento
Eu sinto sua falta tanto ...
Olá mãe ...
Eu te amo mamãe!

Você apareceu no meu sonho noite passada
E eu ver você sorrindo e bonito como antes
Como sempre ...
E eu choro em seus braços
Sim eu choro ... E chorar de novo.

Na bela casa de campo, onde deu à luz a mim
Muitas vezes eu ...
Mas há mais cottage ...
Somente oliveiras
E a sua memória, a sua inesquecível.

mom

To the memory of my mother, which I think with all my love for her
mom

I want to say hello to you, Mom
I cry at the moment
I miss you so much ...
Hello mom ...
I love you Mom!

Are you appeared in my dream last night
And I see you smiling and lovely as before
As always ...
And I cry in your arms
Yes I cry ... And cry again.

In the beautiful cottage where you gave birth to me
I often go ...
But there is more cottage ...
Only olive trees
And your memory, your unforgettable.

The edge of the world, a wonderful country: India.

The edge of the world, a wonderful country: India.

Populated by 1 billion 210 million souls, India is a great economic power. However, its population is deeply rooted in its traditions.
Khumbha Mela, a marvelous city with 50 million Hindu pilgrims. At the heart of Mumbai, megalopolis of 23 million inhabitants, the Dharavi slum is the city of untouchables. The state of Kerala is a haven of peace: Beaches of coconut tangle of navigable canals, deep jungle and lush, misty mountains covered with tea plantations, spectacular Kathakali dance, martial arts ancestors.Rajasthan is the land of lords and maharajas. Its medieval towns, small isolated villages of the Thar desert, making it one of the most beautiful destinations in the country. In the city of Mathura thousands of devotees celebrate a collective madness of spring in overlapping colored powders.
With a population of 1 billion 210 million souls, India after China, the most populous country in the world. Fascinating for some, disturbing to others, India is exuberant in its colors, in its boundless wealth, its poverty unbearable, ardent in its festivals.If the Indian sub-continent is becoming an economic superpower, which in the future will have as well as the United States of America or China, the vast majority of men and women very attached to their traditions and their way of life for centuries.

Do not be sad

Do not be sad

You're crying because you miss him
The flame of life is love,
The love of a friend, without a friend,
The love of a land ...
Love simply.
And you cry alone in your solitude
Men in misunderstanding
The misunderstanding of God.
In the fire of hatred, often war
You refugees in the desert of sorrow
In memory of the past.

Scrisoare către un prieten drag inimii mele.

"Letter to a friend dear to my heart," translated into Romanian for a friend.

I do not know if the translation is perfect.
The comments tell.
Kamel Heriouil.

Scrisoare către un prieten drag inimii mele.

Draga mea, sufletul meu!

Tu aduci bucurie și fericire în sufletul meu ofilit,
De ani de mizerie și dispreț
Și eu nu te mulțumi îndeajuns.
Îmi pare foarte rău ...
Eu nu merită, probabil, o atenție atât de mult și de iubire,
De tine, tu, care este un înger din cer,
Adu-mi ceea ce am dorit mereu: dragoste.
Nevoia de a scrie te văd mă luați
Fața ta întuneca în timp ce sunteți lumină.
De aer, îmi pare rău
Printr-o eroare pe care am comis împotriva ta
Și eu regret profund.
Sufletul tau este perfect si deja ma iertat deja,
Știu.

Letter to a friend dear to my heart.

Letter to a friend dear to my heart.

My darling, my soul!
You bring joy and happiness to my soul withered,
By years of misery and contempt
And I do not thank you enough.
I'm really sorry ...
I do not deserve, perhaps, so much attention and love,
Of you, you, who is an angel from heaven,
Bring me what I always wanted: Love.
The urge to write you seeing me taking
Your face darken while you are light.
Your air, sorry
By a fault that I committed against you
And I deeply regret.
Your soul is perfect and has already forgiven me already,
I know.

No meio da noite

Para o meu Lusófona amigos

No meio da noite

A compostura eo medo da solidão

Meu coração persiste e resiste.

Eu não tenho tempo para amar

E você já está tão longe

Criatura maravilhosa, objeto dos meus sonhos.

No silêncio da noite austera

Eu arriscaria sem delírio e encontrar uma saída

No exílio infernal da minha existência,

Minha deriva, minha descida ao inferno.

Minha estrela vai virar um golpe do destino.

In the night

In the night

The composure and the fear of loneliness

My heart persists and endures.

I have no time to love

And you're already so far

Wonderful creature, object of my dreams.

In the austere silence of the night

I would venture without delirium and find an outlet

At the infernal exile of my existence,

My drift, my descent into hell.

My star is going to turn a stroke of fate.

Dans la nuit

Dans la nuit

Dans l’impassibilité et la peur de la solitude

Mon cœur s’acharne et endure.

Je n’ai plus le temps d’aimer

Et tu es déjà si loin,

Merveilleuse créature, objet de mes rêves.

Dans l’austère mutisme de la nuit

Je délire  et me risque sans trouver d’exutoire

A l’infernal exil de mon existence,

Ma dérive, ma descente aux enfers.

Mon étoile s’en va au détour d’un coup du sort.

The red moon

The red moon

During my long winter night, I lost hope,

The hope to find you ... someday.

In my journey towards the unknown, I have not met

That frustration and despair ...

Thorns and around destroyed.

My path was strewn with thorns and blood

I screamed my pain and the sky, the sky ...,

No one tends me a hand caressing

A sign of fortune ... a smile.

All was consternation and exile.

La luna roja

La luna roja

Durante mi larga noche de invierno, he perdido la esperanza,

La esperanza de encontrarte ... algún día.

En mi viaje hacia lo desconocido, no he conocido a

Esa frustración y la desesperación ...

Espinas y todo destruido.

Mi camino estaba sembrado de espinas y sangre

Grité y mi dolor ..., el cielo firmamento

Nadie me tiende una mano acariciando

Un signo de la fortuna ... una sonrisa.

Todo era consternación y el exilio.

Um amor louco ..

Seu rosto, a cor dos seus olhos, a tez de sua pele,

Eu não sei, eu só posso imaginar,

Em meus sonhos, minhas fantasias e minha loucura.

Eu delírio de um ícone, um cara de anjo

Eu tenho você.

Tudo começou com uma troca de palavras,

Sobre as gentilezas, olhares e fixações

Em uma imagem que você fez de si mesmo,

Em uma visão que eu queria que você.

Isto é como tudo começou.

A mad love ...

Your face, the color of your eyes, the complexion of your skin,

I do not know, I can only imagine,

In my dreams, my fantasies and my madness.

I delirium of an icon, a angel face

I got you.

It all began with an exchange of words,

On the pleasantries, glances and fixations

On an image that you've made ​​of yourself,

In a vision I wanted you.

This is how it all began.

My lovely unknown

My lovely unknown

I am no longer the man who loves you still
I am no longer the absolute you famous
I'm not the passion that ever fell asleep
I'm not reflect that tracks death

I'm an outlaw crying time
I'm forgetting the old beggar hopes
I am mystified dust long ago
I saw a shadow into nothingness.

Frumoasa mea străin

Frumoasa mea străin

Nu mai sunt omul care te iubește încă

Nu mai sunt ideal care te iubesc

Eu nu sunt pasiunea, care nu, doarme

Eu nu sunt lumina care urmărește moartea

Sunt un exilat, care regreta timpul său

Eu sunt proscris, uitarea vechi așteaptă

Mi-am pierdut cenușa, acolo a fost mult timp

Am văzut o umbră în vid

Estoy esperando

Estoy esperando

Cruzada con corte azul

El corazón palpitante de placer,

Estoy esperando!

A la orilla del mar al atardecer,

Capaz en el aire esta noche fresca

Estoy esperando!

Con la paciencia de los ojos de un loco, a veces, fijados en la orilla,

A veces las luces parpadeantes de la ciudad,

Estoy esperando!

Con la aparición de un buen príncipe agradable, hermoso,

Indulgente, considerado y un poco inquieto,