So Tenderly...

So tenderly your story is
Nothing more than what you see
Or
What you've done

or will become
Standing strong

do you belong in your skin
Just wondering

Gentle now the tender breeze
Blows whispers through
My Gran Torino
Whistling another tired song

Engine humms and bitter dreams
Grow heart locked in a Gran Torino
It beats a lonely rhythm
All night long
It beats a lonely rhythm
All night long
It beats a lonely rhythm
All night long

Realign all the stars above my head

warning signs
Travel far

I drink instead on my own
Oh,how i've known
The battle scars and worn out beds

Gentle now a tender breeze
Blows whispers through
A Gran Torino
Whistling another tired song

Engines humm and bitter dreams
Grow
Heart locked in a Gran Torino
It beats a lonely rhythm
All night long

These streets are old
They shine with the things I've known
And breaks through the trees
Their sparkling

Your world is nothing more
Than all the tiny things
You've left behind

So tenderly your story is
Nothing more than what you see
Or

What you've done
Or will become
Standing strong
Do you belong in your skin
Just wondering

Gentle now a tender breeze
Blows whispers through
The Gran Torino
Whistling another tired song
Engines humm and bitter dreams
Grow a heart locked
In a Gran Torino
It beats a lonely rhythm
All night long

May I be
So bold and stay
I need someone
To hold
That shudders
My skin
Their sparkling

Your world is nothing more
Than all the tiny things
You've left behind

So realign all the stars above my head
Warning signs
Travel far
I drink instead on my own
Oh
How i've known the battle scars
And worn out beds

Gentle now a tender breeze
Blows whispers through
The Gran Torino
Whistling another tired song
Engines humm and better dreams
Grow
Heart locked in a Gran Torino
It beats a lonely rhythm
All night long
It beats a lonely rhythm
All night long
It beats a lonely rhythm
All night long

Clint Eastwood & Jamie Cullum "Gran Torino" (tema final)

Gran Filme

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZmbO6BQhWU

Thank-You Note

I owe so much
to those I don’t love.

The relief as I agree
that someone else needs them more.

The happiness that I’m not
the wolf to their sheep.

The peace I feel with them,
the freedom –
love can neither give
nor take that.

I don’t wait for them,
as in window-to-door-and-back.
Almost as patient
as a sundial,
I understand
what love can’t.
and forgive
as love never would.

From a rendezvous to a letter
is just a few days or weeks,
not an eternity.

Trips with them always go smoothly,
concerts are heard,
cathedrals visited,
scenery is seen.

And when seven hills and rivers
come between us,
the hills and rivers
can be found on any map.

They deserve the credit
if I live in three dimensions,
in nonlyrical and nonrhetorical space
with a genuine, shifting horizon.

They themselves don’t realize
how much they hold in their empty hands.

“I don’t owe them a thing,”
would be love’s answer
to this open question.

Wislawa Szymborska

Click

23 de Março de 1766

Luís Maria do Couto de Albuquerque da Cunha,

in " Memórias para a História da Praça de Mazagam"

Marcel Dany

O Conde D.Henrique

Todo começo é involuntário.

Deus é o agente.

O heroe a si assiste, vário

E inconsciente.

À espada em tuas mãos achada

Teu olhar desce.

"Que farei eu com esta espada?"

Ergueste-a, e fez-se.

Fernando Pessoa

Esperança

Só a leve esperança em toda a vida
disfarça a pena de viver, mais nada;
nem é mais a existência resumida
que uma grande esperança malograda.

O eterno sonho da alma desterrada,
sonho que a traz ansiosa e embevecida,
é uma hora feliz, sempre adiada
e que não chega nunca em toda a vida.

Essa felicidade que supomos
árvore milagrosa que sonhamos
toda arriada de dourados pomos

existe sim; mas nós não n´a encontramos,
porque está sempre apenas onde a pomos
e nunca a pomos onde nós estamos.

Vicente de Carvalho

The Watery Chant of the Seraph

An angel kissed
my cheek today
though I did sleep
and was ignored
by worldly men
as rich as kings
I heard the whisperings
of their wings
I felt the fluttering
of the air
as if an angel
combed my hair
I heard the seraph's
watery chant
drip down
my dreams
distilled to song
While the River Lethe
overflowed
and then
one tear awoke
the deluge
within
Another dawn
awoke the day
What once was near,
so far away.

s.k.lindeman

Teu Corpo Principia

Dou-te um nome de água
para que cresças no silêncio.

Invento a alegria
da terra que habito
porque nela moro.

Invento do meu nada
esta pergunta.
(Nesta hora, aqui.)

Descubro esse contrário
que em si mesmo se abre:
ou alegria ou morte.

Silêncio e sol – verdade,
respiração apenas.

Amor, eu sei que vives
num breve país.

Os olhos imagino
e o beijo na cintura,
ó tão delgada.

Se é milagre existires,
teus pés nas minhas palmas.

Ó maravilha, existo
no mundo dos teus olhos.

Ó vida perfumada
cantando devagar.

Enleio-me na clara
dança do teu andar.

Por uma água tão pura
vale a pena viver.

Um teu joelho diz-me
a indizível paz.

António Ramos Rosa

Acquainted With the Night

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain --and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Robert Frost

Once Upon a Time...

“Do You Have Any Advice For Those of Us Just Starting Out?"

Give up sitting dutifully at your desk. Leave
your house or apartment. Go out into the world.

It's all right to carry a notebook but a cheap
one is best, with pages the color of weak tea
and on the front a kitten or a space ship.

Avoid any enclosed space where more than
three people are wearing turtlenecks. Beware
any snow-covered chalet with deer tracks
across the muffled tennis courts.

Not surprisingly, libraries are a good place to write.
And the perfect place in a library is near an aisle
where a child a year or two old is playing as his
mother browses the ranks of the dead.

Often he will pull books from the bottom shelf.
The title, the author's name, the brooding photo
on the flap mean nothing. Red book on black, gray
book on brown, he builds a tower. And the higher
it gets, the wider he grins.

You who asked for advice, listen: When the tower
falls, be like that child. Laugh so loud everybody
in the world frowns and says, "Shhhh."

Then start again.

Ron Koertge

Redenção

Quando chego
a sonhar que voei
de verdade
sonhei mais do que voei
[na realidade]
E quando vou abrir os olhos
sem sequer tê-los
fechado
deparo-me com grades
de brinquedo
[que se abrem na
maior facilidade]
Mas que parecem
feitas da argamassa escura
de Shawnshank
[ficção]
ou de Alcatraz
[realidade]
E no entanto vejo
o sol acordar
na minha janela
mostrando de maneira
nem discreta
nem singela
que de fato não estou
numa prisão

E me pergunto
se cheguei a acreditar
um dia
em sair da extrema
fantasia
de me livrar destas paredes
[me livrar deste chão]
Liberdade muitas vezes
é feita com parceiros
uma coisa
que parece
entrar em choque
Com o visgo
que nos liga a muitos
[e invisíveis]
carcereiros

Eliana Mora