Wednesday, July 23, 2008

 

Sou um ser humano, portanto, nada que é humano me estranha

Homo sum: humani nil a me alienum puto
Terentius
Sou um ser humano, portanto, nada que é humano me estranha

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

 

can't help falling in love

Wise men say, only fools rush in.
But I can't help falling in love with you
Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?
I can't help falling in love with you

As the river flows gently to the sea
Darling so we go, some things were meant to be
Take my hand take my whole heart too
'Cause i can't help falling in love with you

As the river flows gently to the sea
Darling so we go, some things were meant to be
Take my hand take my whole heart too
'Cause i can't help falling in love with you

 

ub40 - can't help falling in love



 

de profundis

"....For us there is only one season, the season of sorrow...It is always twilight in one's cell, as it is
always twilight in one's hear " de profundis , oscar wilde

 

as time goes by - youtube


 

as time goes by

You must remember this
A kiss is still a kiss
A sigh is still (just) a sigh
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by

And when two lovers woo
They still say: "i love you"
On that you can rely
No matter what the future brings
As time goes by

Moonlight and love songs - never out of date
Hearts full of passion - jealousy and hate
Woman needs man - and man must have his mate
That no one can deny

It’s still the same old story
A fight for love and glory
A case of do or die
The world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by

Friday, July 11, 2008

 

beijo de novo

beijo lips

 

milton nascimento Maria Maria

Maria, Maria
É um dom, uma certa magia
Uma força que nos alerta
Uma mulher que merece
Viver e amar
Como outra qualquer
Do planeta

Maria, Maria
É o som, é a cor, é o suor
É a dose mais forte e lenta
De uma gente que rí
Quando deve chorar
E não vive, apenas aguenta

Mas é preciso ter força
É preciso ter raça
É preciso ter gana sempre
Quem traz no corpo a marca
Maria, Maria
Mistura a dor e a alegria

Mas é preciso ter manha
É preciso ter graça
É preciso ter sonho sempre
Quem traz na pele essa marca
Possui a estranha mania
De ter fé na vida....

Mas é preciso ter força
É preciso ter raça
É preciso ter gana sempre
Quem traz no corpo a marca
Maria, Maria
Mistura a dor e a alegria...

Mas é preciso ter manha
É preciso ter graça
É preciso ter sonho sempre
Quem traz na pele essa marca
Possui a estranha mania
De ter fé na vida....

Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei!
Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei!!
Lá Lá Lá Lerererê Lerererê
Lá Lá Lá Lerererê Lerererê
Hei! Hei! Hei! Hei!
Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei!
Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei!
Lá Lá Lá Lerererê Lerererê!
Lá Lá Lá Lerererê Lerererê!...

Mas é preciso ter força
É preciso ter raça
É preciso ter gana sempre
Quem traz no corpo a marca
Maria, Maria
Mistura a dor e a alegria...

Mas é preciso ter manha
É preciso ter graça
É preciso ter sonho, sempre
Quem traz na pele essa marca
Possui a estranha mania
De ter fé na vida

Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei!
Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei!!
Lá Lá Lá Lerererê Lerererê
Lá Lá Lá Lerererê Lerererê
Hei! Hei! Hei! Hei!
Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei!
Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei! Ah! Hei!
Lá Lá Lá Lerererê Lerererê!
Lá Lá Lá Lerererê Lerererê!...

Milton Nascimento letras


 

outro beijo

um beijo

 

beijo

beijo

 
http://www.undermilkwood.net/poetry_ruboflove.html

dylan thomas .. ele mesmo ..lendo o seu poema ..recitando como NINGUÉM pode fazer...

 

If I Were Tickled By the Rub of Love

If I Were Tickled By the Rub of Love
o link para o poema está no outro post.
If I were tickled by the rub of love,
A rooking girl who stole me for her side,
Broke through her straws, breaking my bandaged string,
If the red tickle as the cattle calve
Still set to scratch a laughter from my lung,
I would not fear the apple nor the flood
Nor the bad blood of spring.

Shall it be male or female? say the cells,
And drop the plum like fire from the flesh.
If I were tickled by the hatching hair,
The winging bone that sprouted in the heels,
The itch of man upon the baby's thigh,
I would not fear the gallows nor the axe
Nor the crossed sticks of war.

Shall it be male or female? say the fingers
That chalk the walls with green girls and their men.
I would not fear the muscling-in of love
If I were tickled by the urchin hungers
Rehearsing heat upon a raw-edged nerve.
I would not fear the devil in the loin
Nor the outspoken grave.
If I were tickled by the lovers' rub
That wipes away nor crow's-foot nor the lock
Of sick old manhood on the fallen jaws,
Time and the crabs and the sweethearting crib
Would leave me cold as butter for the flies,
The sea of scums could drown me as it broke
Dead on the sweethearts' toes.

This world is half the devil's and my own,
Daft with the drug that's smoking in a girl
And curling round the bud that forks her eye.
An old man's shank one-marrowed with my bone,
And all the herrings smelling in the sea,
I sit and watch the worm beneath my nail
Wearing the quick away.

And that's the rub, the only rub that tickles.
The knobbly ape that swings along his sex
From damp love-darkness and the nurse's twist
Can never raise the midnight of a chuckle,
Nor when he finds a beauty in the breast
Of lover, mother, lovers, or his six
Feet in the rubbing dust.
And what's the rub? Death's feather on the nerve?
Your mouth, my love, the thistle in the kiss?
My Jack of Christ, born thorny on the tree?
The words of death are dryer than his stiff,
My wordy wounds are printed with your hair.
I would be tickled by the rub that is:
Man be my metaphor.


ESTA OBRA_PRIMA PODE SER OUVIDA NO LINK ABAIXO :
http://www.undermilkwood.net/poetry_ruboflove.html

 
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/if-i-were-tickled-by-the-rub-of-love/

Thursday, July 10, 2008

 

ars_poetica ou laranja_poetica


 
ars poetica

Ars Poetica


By Archibald MacLeish


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.



 
hello worldLESSNESS..

hello worldLESSNESS.


postando direto do desktop do ubuntu hardy heron 8.04



 

Labels:


This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?