Sunday, March 14, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Do say what you want to say
Diz o que quiseres,
Poderá ou não ser de ouro
Mas o teu silêncio não vale nada
Quando tudo falha à tua volta.
Este rapaz, 19 anos foi encurralado numa esplanada
Cinco homens numa missão de justiceiros
Pediram “bicas”
Acabaram com ele num instante
Quando o pai chegou à sua beira
Só teve tempo para dizer :
“- Olha o que me fizeram.”
Diz o que quiseres
É preciso.
Do say what you want to say
It may be golden or not
But your silence is worthless
When things fail around you.
This boy, 19 years of age he was trapped in a coffee shop
Five men come in a vigilante mission
Asked for coffees
Finished him up in no time
When his father come to him
All he could say was :
“-Father, look what they’ve done to me.”
Do say what you want to say
It is urgent.
Poderá ou não ser de ouro
Mas o teu silêncio não vale nada
Quando tudo falha à tua volta.
Este rapaz, 19 anos foi encurralado numa esplanada
Cinco homens numa missão de justiceiros
Pediram “bicas”
Acabaram com ele num instante
Quando o pai chegou à sua beira
Só teve tempo para dizer :
“- Olha o que me fizeram.”
Diz o que quiseres
É preciso.
Do say what you want to say
It may be golden or not
But your silence is worthless
When things fail around you.
This boy, 19 years of age he was trapped in a coffee shop
Five men come in a vigilante mission
Asked for coffees
Finished him up in no time
When his father come to him
All he could say was :
“-Father, look what they’ve done to me.”
Do say what you want to say
It is urgent.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Madonna
Já dormi assim, nos braços de uma mãe pensativa.
A carvalha dorme agora ao meu portão,
por si corre a seiva
alimentando os brotos que rebentarão
assim que o céu lhes permitir.
A carvalha trabalha,
em acordo com o céu e a terra.
A minha mãe compassiva,
olha por nós,
porque ela não é só minha, mas de todos.
Da carvalha, de mim e de ti também.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
A luz sobre as sombras
A luz sobre as sombras
Lourdes Castro dizia a Catarina Mourão, vou tentar citá-lo de memória : "As coisas precisam da escuridão, é na escuridão que tudo cresce, as coisas se preparam. depois trazemo-las para a luz e partilhamo-las", penso ser este pelo menos o sentido do seu trabalho...Como as plantas precisam de tempo, do ritmo das estações, as ideias também precisam de tempo para germinar...
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
coisas maravilhosas
um peixe
ou um pássaro
são decerto coisas maravilhosas
muito mais
do que uma pedra
ou um pau
(olho para trás e vejo
quão pouco fiz até agora)
ou um pássaro
são decerto coisas maravilhosas
muito mais
do que uma pedra
ou um pau
(olho para trás e vejo
quão pouco fiz até agora)
Disappearing Act
ELEANOR ROSS TAYLOR
Disappearing Act
No, soul doesn't leave the body.
My body is leaving my soul.
Tired of turning fried chicken and
coffee to muscle and excrement,
tried of secreting tears, wiping them,
tired of opening eyes on another day,
tired especially of that fleshy heart,
pumping, pumping. More,
that brain spinning nightmares.
Body prepares:
disconnect, unplug, erase.
But here, I think, a smallish altercation
arises.
Soul seems to shake its fist.
Wants brain? Claims dreams and nightmares?
Maintains a codicil bequeathes it shares?
There'll be a fight. A deadly struggle.
We know, of course, who'll win. . . .
But who's this, watching?
Disappearing Act
No, soul doesn't leave the body.
My body is leaving my soul.
Tired of turning fried chicken and
coffee to muscle and excrement,
tried of secreting tears, wiping them,
tired of opening eyes on another day,
tired especially of that fleshy heart,
pumping, pumping. More,
that brain spinning nightmares.
Body prepares:
disconnect, unplug, erase.
But here, I think, a smallish altercation
arises.
Soul seems to shake its fist.
Wants brain? Claims dreams and nightmares?
Maintains a codicil bequeathes it shares?
There'll be a fight. A deadly struggle.
We know, of course, who'll win. . . .
But who's this, watching?
Topaz
Pablo Neruda
Sonnet XVII (100 Love Sonnets, 1960)
I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that I close.
Sonnet XVII (100 Love Sonnets, 1960)
I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that I close.
ganhar ao Benfica
Lembro a primeira vez que jogámos contra o Benfica. Foi manhã cedo, éramos os mais novos, cabia-nos assim ser os primeiros a jogar.
Estava frio, mas seco, um pouco de nevoeiro, o campo tinha sido gradado, estava impecável dava gosto pisar, as bancadas e o peão cheios, o que era raro num jogo nosso. Ouvia-se o ruído das conversas, mas quando aquelas camisolas vermelhas entraram, foi como se um silêncio se abatesse e depois um entusiasmo.
Nós ficámos de mesma forma, em pasmo, não podíamos nada contra aquelas camisolas de vermelho glorioso. Quando demos por nós já estávamos a levar cinco, quando acabou ficou em 8 a zero.
Nem soubemos o que nos aconteceu, o que podíamos fazer contra as nossas inclinações naturais, se não aplaudir também ?
(Na Luz o efeito camisola já não funcionou e o tamanho desmesurado do espaço isolou-nos do resto, ficámos só com o jogo e aí empatámos. O nosso velho treinador no fim, dizia com alguma amargura : - Podíamos ter-lhes ganho hoje, podíamos ter-lhes ganho, era só vocês terem acreditado um bocado mais...Era assim o velho "Sesimbra", só sabia jogar para ganhar)
Friday, March 5, 2010
Sol
It starts with the scream of a passing train
Then the constant buzz of a domestic appliance
Topped by the mind-boggling sound of an alarm
You just feel like stopping everything, move away
Leave these dark rainy days
To go and look for the sun and the heat.
Começa com o grito de um comboio que passa,
o ruído constante de um qualquer electrodoméstico
depois o ensurdecedor alarme da loja lá em baixo
só pensas em saír, fugir daqui.
Deixar estes dias sombrios e chuvosos,
rumar ao sol e ao calor.
Then the constant buzz of a domestic appliance
Topped by the mind-boggling sound of an alarm
You just feel like stopping everything, move away
Leave these dark rainy days
To go and look for the sun and the heat.
Começa com o grito de um comboio que passa,
o ruído constante de um qualquer electrodoméstico
depois o ensurdecedor alarme da loja lá em baixo
só pensas em saír, fugir daqui.
Deixar estes dias sombrios e chuvosos,
rumar ao sol e ao calor.
.jpg)
Praise The Rain
Beloved, Let Us Once More Praise The Rain
Conrad Aiken
Beloved, let us once more praise the rain.
Let us discover some new alphabet,
For this, the often praised; and be ourselves,
The rain, the chickweed, and the burdock leaf,
The green-white privet flower, the spotted stone,
And all that welcomes the rain; the sparrow too,—
Who watches with a hard eye from seclusion,
Beneath the elm-tree bough, till rain is done.
There is an oriole who, upside down,
Hangs at his nest, and flicks an orange wing,—
Under a tree as dead and still as lead;
There is a single leaf, in all this heaven
Of leaves, which rain has loosened from its twig:
The stem breaks, and it falls, but it is caught
Upon a sister leaf, and thus she hangs;
There is an acorn cup, beside a mushroom
Which catches three drops from the stooping cloud.
The timid bee goes back to the hive; the fly
Under the broad leaf of the hollyhock
Perpends stupid with cold; the raindark snail
Surveys the wet world from a watery stone...
And still the syllables of water whisper:
The wheel of cloud whirs slowly: while we wait
In the dark room; and in your heart I find
One silver raindrop,—on a hawthorn leaf,—
Orion in a cobweb, and the World.
Conrad Aiken
Beloved, let us once more praise the rain.
Let us discover some new alphabet,
For this, the often praised; and be ourselves,
The rain, the chickweed, and the burdock leaf,
The green-white privet flower, the spotted stone,
And all that welcomes the rain; the sparrow too,—
Who watches with a hard eye from seclusion,
Beneath the elm-tree bough, till rain is done.
There is an oriole who, upside down,
Hangs at his nest, and flicks an orange wing,—
Under a tree as dead and still as lead;
There is a single leaf, in all this heaven
Of leaves, which rain has loosened from its twig:
The stem breaks, and it falls, but it is caught
Upon a sister leaf, and thus she hangs;
There is an acorn cup, beside a mushroom
Which catches three drops from the stooping cloud.
The timid bee goes back to the hive; the fly
Under the broad leaf of the hollyhock
Perpends stupid with cold; the raindark snail
Surveys the wet world from a watery stone...
And still the syllables of water whisper:
The wheel of cloud whirs slowly: while we wait
In the dark room; and in your heart I find
One silver raindrop,—on a hawthorn leaf,—
Orion in a cobweb, and the World.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Water cascading
Water is cascading down from the next building,
They’re washing it, you see…giving it a make over
I guess they’re increasing its market value
then let it go for the best price.
Water is cascading, like in a downpour
Heavy and fast, taking all the dirt away
The fumes of days and days in the city
Water is cascading down, like my days
Here seated by this window, at this desk
My days cascading away from me.
They’re washing it, you see…giving it a make over
I guess they’re increasing its market value
then let it go for the best price.
Water is cascading, like in a downpour
Heavy and fast, taking all the dirt away
The fumes of days and days in the city
Water is cascading down, like my days
Here seated by this window, at this desk
My days cascading away from me.
Winter Night
Winter Night by Boris Pasternak
It snowed and snowed ,the whole world over,
Snow swept the world from end to end.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
As during summer midges swarm
To beat their wings against a flame
Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed
To beat against the window pane
The blizzard sculptured on the glass
Designs of arrows and of whorls.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
Distorted shadows fell
Upon the lighted ceiling:
Shadows of crossed arms,of crossed legs-
Of crossed destiny.
Two tiny shoes fell to the floor
And thudded.
A candle on a nightstand shed wax tears
Upon a dress.
All things vanished within
The snowy murk-white,hoary.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
A corner draft fluttered the flame
And the white fever of temptation
Upswept its angel wings that cast
A cruciform shadow
It snowed hard throughout the month
Of February, and almost constantly
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
It snowed and snowed ,the whole world over,
Snow swept the world from end to end.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
As during summer midges swarm
To beat their wings against a flame
Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed
To beat against the window pane
The blizzard sculptured on the glass
Designs of arrows and of whorls.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
Distorted shadows fell
Upon the lighted ceiling:
Shadows of crossed arms,of crossed legs-
Of crossed destiny.
Two tiny shoes fell to the floor
And thudded.
A candle on a nightstand shed wax tears
Upon a dress.
All things vanished within
The snowy murk-white,hoary.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
A corner draft fluttered the flame
And the white fever of temptation
Upswept its angel wings that cast
A cruciform shadow
It snowed hard throughout the month
Of February, and almost constantly
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
