Wednesday, September 27, 2006

À Beira de Água

Photo by: Luis de Brito

Estive sempre sentado nesta pedra
escutando, por assim dizer, o silêncio.
Ou no lago cair um fiozinho de água.
O lago é o tanque daquela idade
em que não tinha o coração
magoado. (Porque o amor, perdoa dizê-lo,
dói tanto! Todo o amor. Até o nosso,
tão feito de privação.) Estou onde
sempre estive: à beira de ser água.
Envelhecendo no rumor da bica
por onde corre apenas o silêncio.



Eugénio de Andrade
''Os Sulcos da Sede''

Monday, September 25, 2006

A Carta da Paixão

Photo by: Ricardo Costa
...
Tu és o nó de sangue que me sufoca.
Dormes na minha insónia como o aroma entre os tendões
da madeira fria. És uma faca cravada na minha
vida secreta. E como estrelas
duplas
consanguíneas, luzimos de um para o outro
nas trevas.



Herberto Helder
PHOTOMATON & VOX
Assírio & Alvim
1995

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Poema

Photo by: Fritsh

Chegar de longe, de tão longe…
E esquecer de onde se chega.
E esquecer que foi ausência,
O tempo em que fomos dois.
E querer-te meu poema.
Inteiro, descoberto, completo
Corpo nu que reinvento
Corpo nu que alimento
Poema amor, poema afecto
Ternura guardada em mim.
E nos gestos de hoje,
Sem passado.
E nos gestos de desejo,
Adiados.
Descubro os meus
Secretos, calados.
Descubro os teus
Que sonhei em mim.
Chegar de longe,
De tão longe…
E querer-te meu poema
E saber-te minha rima
E amar-te corpo meu.

Encandescente

Saturday, September 23, 2006

It's Raining :)

Photo by: Pedro Ryder

The Rain


I love the rain

It takes away the pain.

Slowly but surley it goes away.

I listen and listen on my window paine,

The rain the rain it takes my breath away.

The rain the rain,

I wish to be kissed in the rain,

Kissing his lips without thinkin of anything.

The rain the rain I love the rain.

Dominique Gray

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Las puertas del espacio


No escribo sobre aquello que pasa por mi cabeza.
Más bien escribo sobre aquello por lo que mi cabeza pasa.
Vivo solo, encerrado en mi cuerpo.
Yo soy mi universo y mi solo firmamento.
A veces desde afuera una corriente de aire entra
cuando se abre la puerta y un montón de cosas viene
a instalarse en mi mesa.
!Cuánto desearía yo que como la puerta
mi cabeza pudiera abrirse siempre!
Pero, ay, esto ocurre sólo algunas veces.


Juan Calzadilla

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Pequenas Coisas


Falar do trigo e não dizer
o joio. Percorrer
em voo raso os campos
sem pousar
os pés no chão. Abrir
um fruto e sentir
no ar o cheiro
a alfazema. Pequenas coisas,
dirás, que nada
significam perante
esta outra, maior: dizer
o indizível. Ou esta:
entrar sem bússola
na floresta e não perder
o rumo. Ou essa outra, maior
que todas e cujo
nome por precaução
omites. Que é preciso,
às vezes,
não acordar o silêncio.

Albano Martins
Escrito a vermelho Campo das Letras 1999
1ª edição
Photo by: Susana Ferreira

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Belives...

Photo by: Ricardo Tavares

What I Believe About You

I believe that I can conquer my fears.
I believe that I can walk out the door.
I believe I can wipe away my tears.
Because now I don’t need you anymore.

I believe that I can be just as strong.
I believe that I can find someone true.
I have my friends to carry me along.
I can not wait to get away from you.

I believe you believe you’ve done no wrong.
I believe you’ll continue down your path.
The time to replace you will not take long.
I’m sick of dirty lies, time to take a bath.

And I believe one day you’ll come to see,
How ugly you have truly come to be.

Benjamin A. Wellman

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

This Woman

This Woman...

This Woman

This morning she woke up and found
All of the thousand tears that she had cried
A million times, they all had dried
The moment she got out of bed
There was no voice inside her head that said
"I'm falling down, this can't be right"

refren':
This woman's gonna rise
She's only getting stronger before his eyes
She holds a strength that he didn't know
But she knows, now she knows
That she's worth so much more

He only seem to let her down
He told her that she was never worth this while
She fell apart with a broken heart
But after all the pain is gone
She knew that what doesn't kill you makes you strong
And after all she's standing tall

refren':

But after all the pain is gone
She knew that what doesn't kill you makes you strong
And after all she's standing tall
This woman's gonna rise

refren'

This woman
This woman's gonna rise
Yeah

dedico ao meu AMIGO Luis do Porto que me enviou esta musica, obrigada ;)

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

DA VOZ DAS COISAS





Só a rajada de vento
dá o som lírico
às pás do moinho.

Somente as coisas tocadas
pelo amor das outras
têm voz.



© 2002, Fiama Hasse Pais Brandão
From: As Fábulas
Publisher: Relógio d'Água, Lisbon

Saturday, September 09, 2006

Wine of lovers!

Photo by:Manuel António Cruz

RAIN

Rain...Rain...
how sweet and lovely is a water from sky..
Rain..Rain..
it`s a wine of lovers...
Rain.. Rain..
it`s a lovers` pain...
Rain..Rain..
my misses and longing to you as a desert...
Rain..Rain..
aren`t you coming back again to me, as a rain..
come back to me as a coming rain..
come to wash my soul with a waters` sky..
with your hands...
hug me to you...
my heart become sick from a sadness and pains..
Rain..Rain..
it's been so long for waiting..
untill, i become addicted to your waiting and a patience..
Rain..Rain..
aren`t you coming back..
a rain already here..
please don`t let me alone with a rain...

hazem al jaber

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

A poem should be...


photo by:Ricardo Tavares

Ars Poetica

A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit
Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb
Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown -
A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs
Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,
Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
Memory by memory the mind -
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs
A poem should be equal to:
Not true
For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf
For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea -
A poem should not mean
But be

Archibald MacLeish