tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-813319074012337252024-03-13T10:09:28.360+00:00Triskel.... de BreizhOs meus poemas preferidos. Os que fazem parte da minha vida... ou fizeramAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-72715938519056038602014-12-08T21:03:00.001+00:002014-12-08T21:03:26.681+00:00A tua voz de primavera<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Florbela Espanca</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> (</span><a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vila_Vi%C3%A7osa" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Vila Viçosa">Vila Viçosa</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">, </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/8_de_Dezembro" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="8 de Dezembro">8 de Dezembro</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> de </span><a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/1894" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="1894">1894</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> — </span><a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matosinhos" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Matosinhos">Matosinhos</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">, </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/8_de_Dezembro" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="8 de Dezembro">8 de Dezembro</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> de </span><a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/1930" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="1930">1930</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">)</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">foi uma </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poetisa" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Poetisa">poetisa</a> <span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"></span><a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Portugal" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Portugal">portuguesa</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">. A sua vida, de apenas trinta e seis anos, foi plena, embora tumultuosa, inquieta e cheia de sofrimentos íntimos que a autora soube transformar em poesia da mais alta qualidade.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Manto de seda azul, o céu </span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small;">reflecte</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Quanta alegria na minha alma vai!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Tenho os meus lábios húmidos: tomai</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">A flor e o mel que a vida nos promete!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Sinfonia de luz meu corpo não repete</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">O ritmo e a cor dum mesmo beijo... olhai!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Iguala o sol que sempre às ondas cai,</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Sem que a visão dos poentes se complete!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Meus pequeninos seios cor-de-rosa,</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Se os roça ou prende a tua mão nervosa,</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Têm a firmeza elástica dos gamos...</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Para os teus beijos, sensual, flori!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">E amendoeira em flor, só ofereço os ramos,</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: small; text-align: start;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small; text-align: start;">Só me exalto e sou linda para ti!</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-55111511983013157532013-10-11T23:22:00.004+01:002013-10-11T23:22:52.949+01:00eu sei...<div style="text-align: center;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-82011640435099621392013-01-04T22:40:00.000+00:002013-01-04T22:41:56.927+00:00Florbela Espanca - mais triste<span class="userContent"></span><br />
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mais triste... <br />
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Florbela Espanca<br />
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É triste, diz a gente, a vastidão<br />
Do mar imenso! E aquela voz fatal<br />
<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> Com que ele fala, agita o nosso mal!<br /> E a Noite é triste como a Extrema-Unção!<br /> <br /> É triste e dilacera o coração<br /> Um poente do nosso Portugal!<br /> E não vêem que eu sou ... eu ... afinal,<br /> A coisa mais magoada das que são?! ...<br /> <br /> Poentes de agonia trago-os eu<br /> Dentro de mim e tudo quanto é meu<br /> É um triste poente de amargura!<br /> <br /> E a vastidão do Mar, toda essa água<br /> Trago-a dentro de mim num mar de Mágoa!<br /> E a noite sou eu própria! A Noite escura!!</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-11460639279362675172012-01-06T21:14:00.003+00:002012-01-06T21:14:55.809+00:00Dunas<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_ohyDuEaFJo" width="420"></iframe></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-60613586103602711122011-10-31T21:01:00.000+00:002011-10-31T21:01:00.731+00:00Lady... Kenny Rogers<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/3of2F1QXtKo" width="420"></iframe></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-89078577946651102972011-10-09T17:25:00.002+01:002011-10-09T17:25:35.129+01:00" Os Caminhos do Silêncio" de Eduardo Aleixo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTjnGr057Sq0aGf9l8aSp5WF9ENIypnn4iNkomiauVlrRJHQVtyqasnhzq7bowq825n4Nc1_ZRmu5RwrCwOfbIc3Fdl9r1JWa27CJBpfYlOPf4gCvFEsi4ABKwqD2ogo1hyphenhyphentej-hvZid8/s1600/CAPA+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTjnGr057Sq0aGf9l8aSp5WF9ENIypnn4iNkomiauVlrRJHQVtyqasnhzq7bowq825n4Nc1_ZRmu5RwrCwOfbIc3Fdl9r1JWa27CJBpfYlOPf4gCvFEsi4ABKwqD2ogo1hyphenhyphentej-hvZid8/s320/CAPA+2.jpg" width="204" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-family: arial;">Prefaciado por Isabel Mendes Ferreira, o livro, " Os caminhos do silêncio " ,será apresentado no dia 5 de novembro, pelas 15 horas, na Livraria/Bar, Les Enfants Terribles, Rua Bulhão Pato nº 1, em Lisboa ( ao lado do Teatro Maria Matos, junto à Av. de Roma ).</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-62959611167055311212011-08-07T11:25:00.000+01:002011-08-07T11:25:52.514+01:00Fado da Vida - Filipe Santos<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/s8JMZCeoyJw" width="560"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-32672315108245550362011-06-13T23:15:00.000+01:002011-06-13T23:15:48.246+01:00Wish you were here<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/QCQTr8ZYdhg" width="640"></iframe><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Wish You Were Here (Waters, Gilmour)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So, so you think you can tell </div><div style="text-align: center;">Heaven from Hell, </div><div style="text-align: center;">Blue skys from pain. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Can you tell a green field </div><div style="text-align: center;">From a cold steel rail? </div><div style="text-align: center;">A smile from a veil? </div><div style="text-align: center;">Do you think you can tell? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And did they get you to trade </div><div style="text-align: center;">Your heros for ghosts? </div><div style="text-align: center;">Hot ashes for trees? </div><div style="text-align: center;">Hot air for a cool breeze? </div><div style="text-align: center;">Cold comfort for change? </div><div style="text-align: center;">And did you exchange </div><div style="text-align: center;">A walk on part in the war </div><div style="text-align: center;">For a lead role in a cage? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">How I wish, how I wish you were here. </div><div style="text-align: center;">We're just two lost souls </div><div style="text-align: center;">Swimming in a fish bowl, </div><div style="text-align: center;">Year after year, </div><div style="text-align: center;">Running over the same old ground. </div><div style="text-align: center;">What have we found? </div><div style="text-align: center;">The same old fears. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Wish you were here.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-70931335487995506472011-06-06T21:51:00.003+01:002011-06-06T21:52:42.373+01:00Joan Manuel Serrat - Aquellas pequeñas cosas<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/hoCZ8H0RAsA" width="480"></iframe></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-45197601414715102362011-05-22T16:36:00.002+01:002011-05-22T16:36:49.214+01:00Every Breath You Take<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/OMOGaugKpzs" width="480"></iframe></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-71583907976349127102011-05-17T21:43:00.000+01:002011-05-17T21:43:14.203+01:00Telepatia<iframe width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ScYapmh58dc" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-5735360599354679612011-05-10T21:02:00.000+01:002011-05-10T21:02:52.265+01:00Bocage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9AWA5fs41R-hGKYAWEGfHbncEO4cjzOSRFaa0Fk1pTmb4RF9-DtX0L0FYUN6zHw1wJyrzlMlgUFvvgFEl8XGFSmHpz8I5xm1fJdyHzdfLMutdTWYIjKPGpAjw2BqfFNHKL0bQfi7APM/s1600/manuel_du_bocage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9AWA5fs41R-hGKYAWEGfHbncEO4cjzOSRFaa0Fk1pTmb4RF9-DtX0L0FYUN6zHw1wJyrzlMlgUFvvgFEl8XGFSmHpz8I5xm1fJdyHzdfLMutdTWYIjKPGpAjw2BqfFNHKL0bQfi7APM/s320/manuel_du_bocage.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="maintext">Magro, de olhos azuis, carão moreno, <br />
Bem servido de pés, meão na altura, <br />
Triste de facha, o mesmo de figura, <br />
Nariz alto no meio, e não pequeno; <br />
<br />
Incapaz de assistir num só terreno, <br />
Mais propenso ao furor do que à ternura, <br />
Bebendo em níveas mãos por taça escura <br />
De zelos infernais letal veneno; <br />
<br />
Devoto incensador de mil deidades <br />
(Digo, de moças mil) num só momento, <br />
E somente no altar amando os frades; <br />
<br />
Eis Bocage, em quem luz algum talento; <br />
Saíram dele mesmo estas verdades <br />
Num dia em que se achou mais pachorrento. <br />
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<i>Bocage, in 'Rimas'</i></span> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-57763926370575924852011-04-25T11:22:00.000+01:002011-04-25T11:22:00.817+01:0025 de Abril<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/gaLWqy4e7ls" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-75165672323000218112011-04-16T13:30:00.000+01:002011-04-16T13:30:44.801+01:00No teu poema<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/hUxB2VDNe9Y" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
No teu poema<br />
Existe um verso em branco e sem medida<br />
Um corpo que respira, um céu aberto<br />
Janela debruçada para a vida.<br />
No teu poema<br />
Existe a dor calada lá no fundo<br />
O passo da coragem em casa escura<br />
E aberta, uma varanda para o Mundo.<br />
<br />
Existe a noite<br />
O riso e a voz refeita à luz do dia<br />
A festa da Senhora da Agonia<br />
E o cansaço do corpo que adormece em cama fria.<br />
Existe um rio<br />
A sina de quem nasce fraco ou forte<br />
O risco, a raiva, a luta de quem cai ou que resiste<br />
Que vence ou adormece antes da morte.<br />
<br />
No teu poema <br />
Existe o grito e o eco da metralha<br />
A dor que sei de cor mas não recito<br />
E os sonos inquietos de quem falha.<br />
No teu poema <br />
Existe um cantochão alentejano<br />
A rua e o pregão de uma varina<br />
E um barco assoprado a todo o pano.<br />
<br />
Existe a noite<br />
O canto em vozes juntas, vozes certas<br />
Canção de uma só letra e um só destino a embarcar <br />
O cais da nova nau das descobertas.<br />
Existe um rio<br />
A sina de quem nasce fraco, ou forte<br />
O risco, a raiva e a luta de quem cai ou que resiste<br />
Que vence ou adormece antes da morte.<br />
<br />
No teu poema<br />
Existe a esperança acesa atrás do muro<br />
Existe tudo mais que ainda me escapa<br />
E um verso em branco à espera... do futuro.<br />
<br />
( lyrics: José Luís Tinoco )Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-28457773246475236572011-03-20T20:44:00.001+00:002011-03-20T20:44:50.860+00:00Mar<iframe title="YouTube video player" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/OOFe4Krv048?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-11575311377193717712011-03-17T21:48:00.001+00:002011-03-17T21:48:12.263+00:00Miss you<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1x2hrN2v7cQ?rel=0" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-34656087037234489002011-03-10T21:31:00.000+00:002011-03-10T21:31:35.345+00:00Caminante... no hay camino...se hace camino al andar<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/AlKqu_uHJTM?rel=0" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-56558050840456328562011-03-08T15:48:00.001+00:002011-03-08T15:51:36.019+00:00Dia da Mulher<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">Um Feliz Dia da Mulher</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/FJQSh8oavis?rel=0" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-59416359513607395622011-03-06T19:05:00.001+00:002011-03-06T19:05:16.504+00:00Um dia de domingo<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Sw998EAtJZw" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-65544907724914888892011-02-26T20:46:00.003+00:002011-02-26T20:46:59.026+00:00Pedro Abrunhosa - Vamos fazer...<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/doq7PNnW1-o" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-7560129382221261622011-01-09T18:16:00.000+00:002011-01-09T18:16:25.828+00:00Fado Português<strong>Fado Português</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong>Amália Rodrigues</strong><br />
<strong>Composição: José Régio </strong><br />
<br />
<br />
O Fado nasceu um dia,<br />
<br />
quando o vento mal bulia<br />
<br />
e o céu o mar prolongava,<br />
<br />
na amurada dum veleiro,<br />
<br />
no peito dum marinheiro<br />
<br />
que, estando triste, cantava,<br />
<br />
que, estando triste, cantava.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Ai, que lindeza tamanha,<br />
<br />
meu chão , meu monte, meu vale,<br />
<br />
de folhas, flores, frutas de oiro,<br />
<br />
vê se vês terras de Espanha,<br />
<br />
areias de Portugal,<br />
<br />
olhar ceguinho de choro.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Na boca dum marinheiro<br />
<br />
do frágil barco veleiro,<br />
<br />
morrendo a canção magoada,<br />
<br />
diz o pungir dos desejos<br />
<br />
do lábio a queimar de beijos<br />
<br />
que beija o ar, e mais nada,<br />
<br />
que beija o ar, e mais nada.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Mãe, adeus. Adeus, Maria.<br />
<br />
Guarda bem no teu sentido<br />
<br />
que aqui te faço uma jura:<br />
<br />
que ou te levo à sacristia,<br />
<br />
ou foi Deus que foi servido<br />
<br />
dar-me no mar sepultura.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Ora eis que embora outro dia,<br />
<br />
quando o vento nem bulia<br />
<br />
e o céu o mar prolongava,<br />
<br />
à proa de outro veleiro<br />
<br />
velava outro marinheiro<br />
<br />
que, estando triste, cantava,<br />
<br />
que, estando triste, cantava.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/1YriVM8sC7M?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-17572871566404703652011-01-01T00:39:00.000+00:002011-01-01T00:39:23.660+00:00Permacultura<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/H-mRdJ8OK6s?fs=1&hl=pt_PT"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/H-mRdJ8OK6s?fs=1&hl=pt_PT" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-38315344991714022682010-12-11T22:47:00.000+00:002010-12-11T22:47:50.526+00:00Longe de Ti<div style="text-align: center;"><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y-YRmfbPZ9w?fs=1&hl=pt_PT"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y-YRmfbPZ9w?fs=1&hl=pt_PT" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">O vazio que há em mim...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-21588893271336531252010-12-01T17:25:00.001+00:002010-12-01T17:28:58.323+00:00Não tenho ambições nem desejos. - Fernando Pessoa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJCYOcbCaKpzG-Q3NTGIYJwdEA4iMZs_PbxErg6BVGvjGTnUFgh5sB8Claz5ksTgsreVNY0rsKZe8cmdHkpRL461QTFKVe6NvWyeEdc-WoVfPeRHs4gjjjK9b63_MS0QOLzkKiPKoFQYY/s1600/fernando-pessoa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJCYOcbCaKpzG-Q3NTGIYJwdEA4iMZs_PbxErg6BVGvjGTnUFgh5sB8Claz5ksTgsreVNY0rsKZe8cmdHkpRL461QTFKVe6NvWyeEdc-WoVfPeRHs4gjjjK9b63_MS0QOLzkKiPKoFQYY/s320/fernando-pessoa.jpg" width="307" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Não tenho ambições nem desejos.</div><div style="text-align: center;">ser poeta não é uma ambição minha.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">É a minha maneira de estar sózinho. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ou quando uma nuvem passa a mão por cima da luz</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">E corre um silêncio pela erva fora.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Porque quem ama nunca sabe o que ama</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Nem sabe porque ama, nem sabe o que é amar...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">...</div><div style="text-align: center;">Da minha aldeia vejo quanto da terra se pode ver do Universo...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Por isso a minha aldeia é tão grande como outra terra qualquer,</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Porque eu sou do tamanho do que vejo</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">E não do tamanho da minha altura... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">...</div><div style="text-align: center;">A mim ensinou-me tudo.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ensinou-me a olhar para as coisas.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Aponta-me todas as coisas que há nas flores.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Mostra-me como as pedras são engraçadas</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Quando a gente as tem na mão</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">E olha devagar para elas.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Fernando Pessoa</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81331907401233725.post-61596386572609683472010-10-28T22:38:00.000+01:002010-10-28T22:38:48.952+01:00É tão bom recordar...<div style="text-align: center;"> Verão de 1991 - Aix-en-Provence</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/x5ufzDUp_W0?fs=1&hl=pt_PT"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/x5ufzDUp_W0?fs=1&hl=pt_PT" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03187956336605507981noreply@blogger.com0