Friday, May 6, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Someday RED
- Enough of blue...give me yellow, orange - red someday.
Esta foto de Snu Abecassis era a capa do suplemento Actual do Expresso de 30/4/2011
Esta foto de Snu Abecassis era a capa do suplemento Actual do Expresso de 30/4/2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
You promised me a thing that was hard for you
Isabella Augusta, Lady Gregory (trans.): Donal Óg
It is late last night the dog was speaking of you;
the snipe was speaking of you in her deep marsh.
It is you are the lonely bird through the woods;
and that you may be without a mate until you find me.
You promised me, and you said a lie to me,
that you would be before me where the sheep are flocked;
I gave a whistle and three hundred cries to you,
and I found nothing there but a bleating lamb.
You promised me a thing that was hard for you,
a ship of gold under a silver mast;
twelve towns with a market in all of them,
and a fine white court by the side of the sea.
You promised me a thing that is not possible,
that you would give me gloves of the skin of a fish;
that you would give me shoes of the skin of a bird;
and a suit of the dearest silk in Ireland.
When I go by myself to the Well of Loneliness,
I sit down and I go through my trouble;
when I see the world and do not see my boy,
he that has an amber shade in his hair.
It was on that Sunday I gave my love to you;
the Sunday that is last before Easter Sunday.
And myself on my knees reading the Passion;
and my two eyes giving love to you for ever.
My mother said to me not to be talking with you today,
or tomorrow, or on the Sunday;
it was a bad time she took for telling me that;
it was shutting the door after the house was robbed.
My heart is as black as the blackness of the sloe,
or as the black coal that is on the smith’s forge;
or as the sole of a shoe left in white halls;
it was you that put that darkness over my life.
You have taken the east from me; you have taken the west from me;
you have taken what is before me and what is behind me;
you have taken the moon, you have taken the sun from me;
and my fear is great that you have taken God from me!
Again found at the wonderful shigekuni. blog
It is late last night the dog was speaking of you;
the snipe was speaking of you in her deep marsh.
It is you are the lonely bird through the woods;
and that you may be without a mate until you find me.
You promised me, and you said a lie to me,
that you would be before me where the sheep are flocked;
I gave a whistle and three hundred cries to you,
and I found nothing there but a bleating lamb.
You promised me a thing that was hard for you,
a ship of gold under a silver mast;
twelve towns with a market in all of them,
and a fine white court by the side of the sea.
You promised me a thing that is not possible,
that you would give me gloves of the skin of a fish;
that you would give me shoes of the skin of a bird;
and a suit of the dearest silk in Ireland.
When I go by myself to the Well of Loneliness,
I sit down and I go through my trouble;
when I see the world and do not see my boy,
he that has an amber shade in his hair.
It was on that Sunday I gave my love to you;
the Sunday that is last before Easter Sunday.
And myself on my knees reading the Passion;
and my two eyes giving love to you for ever.
My mother said to me not to be talking with you today,
or tomorrow, or on the Sunday;
it was a bad time she took for telling me that;
it was shutting the door after the house was robbed.
My heart is as black as the blackness of the sloe,
or as the black coal that is on the smith’s forge;
or as the sole of a shoe left in white halls;
it was you that put that darkness over my life.
You have taken the east from me; you have taken the west from me;
you have taken what is before me and what is behind me;
you have taken the moon, you have taken the sun from me;
and my fear is great that you have taken God from me!
Again found at the wonderful shigekuni. blog
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Monotony
Monotony
One monotonous day follows another
equally monotonous. The same things
will happen again, and then will happen again,
the same moments will come and go.
A month passes by and brings another month.
Easy to guess what lies ahead:
all of yesterday’s boredom.
And tomorrow ends up no longer like tomorrow.
Translated by Edmund Keeley/Philip Sherrard
One monotonous day follows another
equally monotonous. The same things
will happen again, and then will happen again,
the same moments will come and go.
A month passes by and brings another month.
Easy to guess what lies ahead:
all of yesterday’s boredom.
And tomorrow ends up no longer like tomorrow.
Translated by Edmund Keeley/Philip Sherrard
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
dance of the spheres
"The image was captured on Dec. 17, 2010 with three colored filters in Hubble’s Wide Field Camera 3. Hubble’s 21st birthday is Sunday, Apr. 24."
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
RUN
"When I was a kid, I was told: Don't lie down when you can sit. Don't sit when you can stand. Don't stand when you can walk. Don't walk when you can run. Works for me.”
— Posted by Mini M.
seen at the NYT, 20/04/2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
nada fica igual
Um caminho movente, refulgente como prata
(mas não se consegue andar por ele...)
Um rapaz que toca com a guitarra do avô que morreu
(mas músicas diferentes...)
Este blusão que ainda cheira a ovelha
(mas nunca mais vai procurar erva pelos campos...)
Tudo continua,
mas nada fica igual.
(mas não se consegue andar por ele...)
Um rapaz que toca com a guitarra do avô que morreu
(mas músicas diferentes...)
Este blusão que ainda cheira a ovelha
(mas nunca mais vai procurar erva pelos campos...)
Tudo continua,
mas nada fica igual.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
The Second Coming
The Second Coming
by W. B. Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
A meu favor
A meu favor
Tenho o verde secreto dos teus olhos
Algumas palavras de ódio algumas palavras de amor
O tapete que vai partir para o infinito
Esta noite ou uma noite qualquer
A meu favor
As paredes que insultam devagar
Certo refúgio acima do murmúrio
Que da vida corrente teime em vir
O barco escondido pela folhagem
O jardim onde a aventura recomeça.
Alexandre O´Neill
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