ahora contaremos doce

Ahora contaremos doce
y nos quedamos todos quietos.
Por una vez sobre la tierra
no hablemos en ningun idioma,
por un segundo detengamonos,
no movamos tanto los brazos. 
Seria un minuto fragante,
sin prisa, sin locomotoras,
todos estariamos juntos
en una inquietud instantanea.    
Los pescadores del mar frio
no harian danio a las ballenas
y el trabajador de la sal
miraria sus manos rotas.   
Los que preparan guerras verdes,
guerras de gas, guerras de fuego,
victorias sin sobrevivientes,
se pondrian un traje puro
y andarian con sus hermanos
por la sombra, sin hacer nada.   
No se confunda lo que quiero
con la inaccion definitiva:
la vida es solo lo que se hace,
no quiero nada con la muerte.   
Si no pudimos ser unanimes
moviendo tanto nuestras vidas,
tal vez no hacer nada una vez,
tal vez un gran silencio pueda
interrumpir esta tristeza,
este no entendernos jamas
y amenazarnos con la muerte,
tal vez la tierra nos ensenie
cuando todo parece muerto
y luego todo estaba vivo.    
Ahora contare hasta doce
y tu te callas y me voy.
pablo neruda, "a callarse" 
img, silvia  bolognesi

la double vie

Eu não sou eu. 
Eu sou aquele que anda ao meu lado sem que eu o veja,
a quem, às vezes, visito e, às vezes, esqueço.
Sou aquele que cala quando falo, 
que mansamente perdoa quando odeio, 
que vagueia por onde não estou, 
que permanecerá de pé quando eu morrer."
Juan Ramon Jimenez

the chromatic diet

 An artistic creation of the writer Paul Auster and the visual artist Sophie Calle

o caderno do jardineiro

tudo no meu corpo é ânsia de colo 
sou a mãe e a criança misturadas no amor 
amo a mim mesma condoída
como a um próximo distante
amo o que neste corpo velho já fui
o bicho também 
e assim
o amor se estende às pedras
à árvore vergada de frutos e à água
e é tudo amor por mim mesma
ou será amor

Angela Lago vai lançar seu primeiro livro de poemas
Escritora, ilustradora e tradutora de Rainer Maria Rilke e Emily Dickson, a mineira Angela-Lago, conhecida por seus delicados livros para crianças, estreia na poesia com O Caderno do Jardineiro, no início de 2016, pela SM. Foram os novos ares – desde o ano passado, ela vive na pequena Vila do Biribiri, perto de Diamantina – que a inspiraram a experimentar o gênero. A obra traz 26 poemas sobre flores, com ilustrações que exploram a ideia de transparência e incompletude feitas com base em fotografias. Este poema chama-se "Árvore Vergada".
( via Babel )

drifting tonight

a silent love story ( to whisper )

THE CAT AND THE MOON
by: W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)

HE cat went here and there

And the moon spun round like a top,

And the nearest kin of the moon,

The creeping cat, looked up. 

 

Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,

For, wander and wail as he would,

The pure cold light in the sky

Troubled his animal blood.

Minnaloushe runs in the grass

Lifting his delicate feet. 

 

Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?

When two close kindred meet,

What better than call a dance?

Maybe the moon may learn,

Tired of that courtly fashion,

A new dance turn. 

 

Minnaloushe creeps through the grass

From moonlit place to place,

The sacred moon overhead

Has taken a new phase.

Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils

Will pass from change to change,

And that from round to crescent,

From crescent to round they range? 

 

Minnaloushe creeps through the grass

Alone, important and wise,

And lifts to the changing moon

His changing eyes. 

 

e o eleito foi ....

( ... ou como se explicam as eleições a quem acabou de fazer 5 anos ).

3 candidatos bonecos-bichos cá de casa, com discursos convicentes; 4 eleitores ( entre eles a vaca que ri do queijo de triângulos que estava a comer, por falta de quem desempatasse ); 4 boletins de voto preenchidos em -quase- segredo; uma bela e colorida caixa de tupperware com tampa a fazer de urna; uma muy solene contagem de votos. O cargo a concurso era o de presidente da casa que toma conta da Rosinha (a gata de verdade) quando nenhum de nós cá está. Foi por isso que o leão de tricot não pôde ir com ela à escola secundária onde, dentro da "casinha" com a mamã, fez uma cruz muito direitinha nuns desenhos "muito menos giros que os nossos".

If you want the life you have, don’t date a mystic woman

If you want the life you have, don’t date a mystic woman.

A mystic woman is a wild creature. She spends all her life seeking, for there is nothing else worth doing. She peers and gazes until she falls from the edge of the world, and into the next. Over and over. Each time she returns, she is a little different. What she sees must change her. She dies every moment. She is reborn every day. Can you even begin to fathom the terror and the faith commanded from such a being? Can you even begin to understand what such a life can do?

If you want the life you have, don’t date a mystic woman.

If you are comfortable and cozy, stay away. Whatever you have built around yourself to create comfort: it cannot stand in the blazing fire of a mystical woman. She is no trophy. She is no bodily pleasure-maker. She is the seer of souls. She is the womb that births the divine into the flesh and bone of matter. She doesn’t mean to burn your village to the ground, but she has seen what you are meant to become. You are not a peasant shearing sheep, as you have thought. You are a king dressed in rags who has amnesia.

If you want the life you have, don’t date a mystic woman.

If she touches you, and all the voices on the wind go silent, if you feel you are in a snow globe when you embrace her, she is your destroyer. She will destroy the false idol you see in the mirror. She will smash it open because it is your prison. If you wish to stay there, she will shatter you another way. She will leave.

If you want the life you have, don’t date a mystic woman.

Everybody wants the magic, but nobody wants the Mystery, the schooling: a thing that must be lived in a place where book knowledge has no meaning, for all books are manuals to the world you already know. That means, the well-honed intellect — the masculine theory of reason — will not save you, cannot free you. It is for a world whose time is over. The Mystery, by its very nature, must show you what has never been seen, never been written, never been known, because before you were forged, it was impossible. The arts of women have been called the dark arts for too long, and they are the keys to infinity. Infinite form. Infinite being. Infinite life.

If you want the life you have, don’t date a mystic woman.

If your dreams are not filled with the Mystery, you are better off with a normal life, because she will see things that are invisible to you. She will feel things that you cannot feel beneath the layers of numbness you have wrapped yourself in. She will call upon your true self, your real soul, and she will sing it down into you, into herself and life will open up, for this very moment...

Alison Nappi

img. bianca brunner

loba & lorca

a r l e q u í n

Teta roja del sol
Teta azul de la luna
Torso mitad coral,
mitad plata y penumbra

"Uma viagem entre o dia e a noite, através do corpo, do amor e da morte. Leitura iniciática que abrirá uma nova porta à beleza tanto aos que saboreiam o seu primeiro poema, bebés e crianças, como aos consolidados amantes da arte." 
tradução do texto da editora barbara fiore 

Federico García Lorca. Arlequín.
TresBrujas; ilustrações de André da Loba. 
Granada: Barbara Fiore, 2015
Parabéns André. É Magnifico !

Pós-Graduação em Livro Infantil: nova edição

Outras informações académicas e contactos encontram-se no site da Universidade Católica.

"the first time I saw susie..."

 20,000 Days On Earth - 2014 (Nick Cave on the first time he saw his wife)

 

 ... or the most wonderful love at the first sight declaration:

The first time I saw Susie was at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. And when she came walking in, all the things that I have obsessed over for all the years, pictures of movie stars, Jenny Agutter in the billabong, Anita Ekberg in the fountain … Miss World competitions, Marilyn Monroe and Jennifer Jones and Bo Derek … Bolshoi ballerinas and Russian gymnasts … the young girls at the Wangaratta pool lying on the hot concrete, all the stuff I had heard and seen and read … all the continuing never-ending drip-feed of erotic data … came together at that moment, in one great big crash bang, and I was lost to her. And that was that.

wor(l)d

" How close up to the world can we get with our words? 
  How close to us can the world get with its words? "
Paul Matthews

 img. emily hughes  

"if something burns your soul 
with purpose 
and desire, 
it's your duty to be reduced to ashes by it."
Charles Bukowski
img. mary margaret briggs

her very first dive

my other alice

"Look, can I ask you a question?                 
Sure.           
What?               
Are you happily married?
Or is that tactless?
No. Yes. Yes, I...
Gosh, I've been married
almost 16 years now.           
   years.
Oh. Well, that... that's great.
Yeah.               
No, really.
- Well, a good marriage, it's a rare thing.
- Yeah.
Why did you get divorced?
Well, my wife and I,
we were both too opinionated.
She's... very brilliant.
Uh-huh. And attractive?
Yes.
- And very sexy.
- Uh-huh.
And when you're with her, do you...
...do you still have the urge to be with her?
- No.
- No?
No? You never have the urge to...
to grab her?                 
Like, you know, if the two of you
are in her office or something?
Or, I don't know, you know, just... throw
her down on the couch or something?
For old times' sake?
God, you are interesting."

"Alice" by Woody Allen (1990) - the circus scene (script extract).

abrazo

"Oriol Vall, que se ocupa de los recién nacidos en un hospital de Barcelona, dice que el primer gesto humano es el abrazo. Después de salir al mundo, al principio de sus días, los bebés manotean, como buscando a alguien. 

Otros médicos, que se ocupan de los ya vividos, dicen que los viejos, al fin de sus días, mueren queriendo alzar los brazos. Y así es la cosa, por muchas vueltas que le demos al asunto, por muchas palabras que le pongamos. A eso, así de simple, se reduce todo: entre dos aleteos, sin más explicación, transcurre el viaje." 
"El viaje" . Galeano.  by Calle 13

solstício *

(poema de antónio torrado)

onde o fogo

de um verão

muito antigo

cintila,

a boca espera

(que pode uma boca

esperar

senão outra boca?)

espera o ardor

do vento

para ser ave,

e cantar.  

eugénio de andrade 

the world as a polka dot

Yayoi Kusama (b 1929) is the most important contemporary artist living in Japan today:
Alice in a polka dot world:

things we (don't) see

by kery smith

no sex last night

( trust... )

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted
a time to kill and a time to heal
a time to break down and a time to build up
a time to weep, and a time to laugh
a time to mourn, and a time to dance
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing
a time to seek, and a time to lose
a time to keep, and a time to cast away
a time to tear, and a time to sew
a time to keep silent, and a time to speak
a time to love, and a time to hate
a time for war, and a time for peace.

- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

img. mandana sadat

le livre d'artiste n'est pas un livre d'art

Le livre d'artiste n'est pas un livre d'art.
Le livre d'artiste n'est pas un livre sur l'art.
Le livre d'artiste est une oeuvre d'art.

Guy Schraenen

images from: A Moon or a Button? 
Ruth Krauss with Remy Charlip (images), 1959

moon !

A Moon or a Button?
Ruth Krauss with Remy Charlip (images), 1959

spring

para a tristeza...

“Decía mi abuela que cuando una mujer se sintiera triste lo mejor que podía hacer era trenzarse el cabello; de esta manera el dolor quedaría atrapado entre los cabellos y no podría llegar hasta el resto del cuerpo; había que tener cuidado de que la tristeza no se metiera en los ojos pues los harìa llover, tampoco era bueno dejarla entrar en nuestros labios pues los obligaría a decir cosas que no eran ciertas,  que no se meta entre tus manos -me decía-  porque puedes tostar de más el café o dejar cruda la masa; y es que a la tristeza le gusta el sabor amargo. Cuando te sientas triste niña, trénzate el cabello; atrapa el dolor en la madeja y déjalo escapar cuando el viento del norte pegue con fuerza.
Nuestro cabello es una red capaz de atraparlo todo, es fuerte como las raíces del ahuehuete y suave como la espuma del atole.
Que no te agarre desprevenida la melancolía mi niña, aun si tienes el corazón roto o los huesos fríos por alguna ausencia. No la dejes meterse en ti con tu cabello suelto, porque fluirá en cascada por los canales que la luna ha trazado entre tu cuerpo. Trenza tu tristeza, decía,  siempre trenza tu tristeza…
Y mañana que despiertes con el canto del gorrión la encontrarás pálida y desvanecida entre el telar de tu cabello.” 
"Trenzaré mi Tristeza", Paola Klug.

Foto:  Candelaria Rivera (in Niqueragua)

to make everything you need a cloud.... or a flower

If you are a poet, you will see clearly
that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper.
Without a cloud, there will be no rain;
without rain, the trees cannot grow:
and without trees, we cannot make paper.
The cloud is essential for the paper to exist.
If the cloud is not here, the sheet of paper cannot
be here either.

-Thich Nhat Hanh -

         To make a table you need wood, 
         to make wood you need a tree
 
         to make a tree you need a seed, 
         to make a seed you need a fruit
 
         to make a fruit you need a flower, 
         to make a table you need a flower.

 
         To make a flower you need a branch, 
         to make a branch you need a tree
 
         to make a tree you need a forest, 
         to make a forest you need a mountain
 
         to make a mountain you need earth, 
         to make the earth you need a flower
 
         to make everything you need a flower.
 

         - Gianni Rodari -

as traseiras do nosso prédio...

       orientado por richard câmara . informações aqui .

mutazione silente

  by Roberto Kusterle.

( Photographer, born in Italy, 1948. At the end of the 80's, his interest in photography begins, focusing in a research of the human representation in connection with nature around it. The images of the themes tackled tell us about a unique time where separations between dreams, reality, Men and animal melt down and uprise into a form of tight cohabitation thus transforming vital energy into ethic tension ).

data

" Mamã, qual é a morada deste dia? "

  ema, 4 anos