Le printemps, Breughel
segunda-feira, 31 de maio de 2010
domingo, 30 de maio de 2010
Poema
The Soul's Expression
With stammering lips and insufficient sound
I strive and struggle to deliver right
That music of my nature, day and night
With dream and thought and feeling interwound
And only answering all the senses round
With octaves of a mystic depth and height
Which step out grandly to the infinite
From the dark edges of the sensual ground.
This song of soul I struggle to outbear
Through portals of the sense, sublime and whole,
And utter all myself into the air:
But if I did it,—as the thunder-roll
Breaks its own cloud, my flesh would perish there,
Before that dread apocalypse of soul.
With stammering lips and insufficient sound
I strive and struggle to deliver right
That music of my nature, day and night
With dream and thought and feeling interwound
And only answering all the senses round
With octaves of a mystic depth and height
Which step out grandly to the infinite
From the dark edges of the sensual ground.
This song of soul I struggle to outbear
Through portals of the sense, sublime and whole,
And utter all myself into the air:
But if I did it,—as the thunder-roll
Breaks its own cloud, my flesh would perish there,
Before that dread apocalypse of soul.
Quem tem livros tem tudo
Nem me lembrava que o tinha comprado, por isso foi como ter descoberto um livro novinho em folha, ali em cima da mesa a servir de suporte a uma folha de papel branco onde um rapazinho treinava para o seu teste de matemática de amanhã:
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Fotografias de Carlos Afonso Dias, tiradas daqui:
Boa sorte no teste de matemática!
sábado, 29 de maio de 2010
Música
Para desanuviar, La Campanella, por Alicia de Larrocha que estava escondida no meu IPOD e eu não sabia:
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sexta-feira, 28 de maio de 2010
Enciclopédia
Vejam qual a primeira palavra
William Henry Fox Talbot
Duas das suas fotografias, para guardarmos nas nossas memórias:
Patroclo
A scene in a library.
BIBLIOTECA
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Já se perguntaram porque é que, em dada época, era normal os Advogados publicarem, muitas vezes por sua própria conta, peças processuais? Porque era da prossecução da justiça que se tratava. Para além das acções judiciais concretas em causa, havia um valor maior a defender e a forma de o defender era esta.
DRAMAS JUDICIÁRIOS
Na semana passada, fiquei de vos dar notícia do primeiro Drama Judiciário.
Fica o título e a sentença:
quinta-feira, 27 de maio de 2010
La víspera
Millares de partículas de arena,
ríos que ignoran el reposo, nieve
más delicada que una sombra, leve
sombra de una hoja, la serena
margen del mar, la momentánea espuma,
los antiguos caminos del bisonte
y de la flecha fiel, un horizonte
y otro, los tabacales y la bruma,
la cumbre, los tranquilos minerales,
el Orinoco, el intrincado juego
que urden la tierra, el agua, el aire, el fuego,
las leguas de sumisos animales,
apartarán tu mano de la mía,
pero también la noche, el alba, el día…
Jorge Luís Borges
ríos que ignoran el reposo, nieve
más delicada que una sombra, leve
sombra de una hoja, la serena
margen del mar, la momentánea espuma,
los antiguos caminos del bisonte
y de la flecha fiel, un horizonte
y otro, los tabacales y la bruma,
la cumbre, los tranquilos minerales,
el Orinoco, el intrincado juego
que urden la tierra, el agua, el aire, el fuego,
las leguas de sumisos animales,
apartarán tu mano de la mía,
pero también la noche, el alba, el día…
Jorge Luís Borges
quarta-feira, 26 de maio de 2010
Night
The sun descending in the West,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight,
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen, they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.
They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm:
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.
When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But, if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.
And there the lion's ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold:
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold:
Saying: 'Wrath by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness,
Is driven away
From our immortal day.
'And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
For, washed in life's river,
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold,
As I guard o'er the fold.'
William Blake
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight,
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen, they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.
They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm:
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.
When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But, if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.
And there the lion's ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold:
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold:
Saying: 'Wrath by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness,
Is driven away
From our immortal day.
'And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
For, washed in life's river,
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold,
As I guard o'er the fold.'
William Blake
terça-feira, 25 de maio de 2010
domingo, 23 de maio de 2010
Coincidência*
High Cliff, Coast of Maine, Winslow Homer
"I agree with you in thinking that the lawyer, and the congressman, and the editor, are in error, but only in so far as each claims peculiar facilities for the sort of knowledge in question; because, you see, sir, the truth is, that every trade or pursuit which brings one into contact with the facts, sir, such trade or pursuit is equally an avenue to those facts.
–Herman Melville, The Confidence-Man: His Masquerade, ch. 43 (1857)"
* a coincidência é abrir o livro antes de o arrumar, ver este quadro, procurá-lo na internet, encontrar isto, e tudo o resto.
sábado, 22 de maio de 2010
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