Saturday, December 06, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Desafios ** ~Challenge
~~~~~~~~~~
Challenge isn't needed for the time being.
Posted by M.P. at 5:35 pm 0 comments
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Do dia de hoje ... ~ About today....
No dia de hoje os pesamentos voam no vento da memória e desejam bons futuros a quem neles cabe.
Apesar de tudo.
~~~~~~~~
Today thoughts swirl in the winds of memory wishing good futures to those who fit in there.
In spite of everything.
Posted by M.P. at 4:39 pm 0 comments
Thursday, October 30, 2008
a olhar para o céu e.... ~ loking at the sky...
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Para hoje ~ For today
Adormecer.
Em sono profundo.
Esquecer o mundo.
Viver em mim.
Por mim
Apenas por um tempo.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fall asleep.
In a deep sleep.
Forget about the world.
Live within myself.
For my sake.
Only for a while.
Posted by M.P. at 4:36 pm 0 comments
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Um Violino no Telhado ** A Fidler on the Roof
Uma SUPER produção estreada aqui no Porto
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A SUPER musical being shown here in Porto
Posted by M.P. at 9:24 pm 2 comments
Monday, August 11, 2008
Pintando o pôr do sol
With burning sunset paint strokes I outline my Feeling skyline.
Sprinkling gold dust on the various colour shades.
Allowing myself the slow reach of a never ended masterpiece.
Posted by M.P. at 9:13 am 3 comments
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Dar um pouco mais de tempo ao Tempo
Posted by M.P. at 11:38 pm 0 comments
Monday, July 14, 2008
não envelheceu...
O legado foi passado.
Posted by M.P. at 10:14 pm 0 comments
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
De como as palavras destoam do Sentir
The utterance of words doesn't match the colour of Feeling.
Posted by M.P. at 10:51 pm 1 comments
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Partidas e chegadas
Quando se parte, chega-se a algures.
Depois...
Posted by M.P. at 4:27 pm 0 comments
Monday, June 09, 2008
A questão de hoje é de ... invejas...
Posted by M.P. at 11:12 pm 0 comments
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Brisa de encanta flor
Posted by M.P. at 8:39 pm 0 comments
Monday, June 02, 2008
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Amor
Posted by M.P. at 3:39 pm 0 comments
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Lullaby!
Gosto do som que aqui deixo: que me deixo, que lhe deixo se ele me visitar, que deixo a quem passar por aqui.
Posted by M.P. at 8:23 pm 0 comments
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Constatação
Nem sempre uma maçã brilhante e de aparência sadia tem um interior saudável.
Ora.. se considerarmos que
a metáfora se pode utilizar numa simples constatação de "post" de blog sem pertensões,
acho que podemos aplicar este princípio entre os humanos.
Ou será que não?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A shiny and healthy looking apple hasn't always a healthy interior.
Well... taking in mind
a metaphor can be used in a simple motto to be posted in an ordinary blog,
I think we can take the above sentence like a principle to be applied to humans too.
Or can't we??
Posted by M.P. at 10:20 pm 0 comments
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
"Babel"icando...
"Babel"icar
nos tempos que correm
que poderá estar aqui a razão
para este global desvario de "blablablas"
em que
todos dizem e não se entendem... ~~~~~~~~~~
There's so much
"babel"ing
nowadays
that perhaps we have here the reasons
why this global "blablabla" insanity exists,
this global insanity
where all say something and all misunderstand one another.
Posted by M.P. at 11:01 pm 0 comments
Monday, May 26, 2008
Ouvi....
Imagem de Kurtis Rykovich ... que o Presente é a convergência de Passado com Futuro em qualquer ponto do Tempo.
Posted by M.P. at 11:58 pm 0 comments
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Mikhail Baryshnikov
Hoje lembrei-me dele não sei porquê ...
He was one of my idols...
I came to think of him today... I don't know why ...
Posted by M.P. at 10:13 pm 0 comments
Friday, May 23, 2008
Se assim fosse...
...não sei se seríamos o que somos...
...if Life was like that...
...I wonder what we would be like...
Posted by M.P. at 9:23 pm 0 comments
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Palavras em fumo
Posted by M.P. at 8:49 pm 0 comments
Monday, May 19, 2008
Y
Posted by M.P. at 11:51 pm 0 comments
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Em noite de segredos
Posted by M.P. at 11:19 pm 0 comments
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
De mentiras e verdades
Posted by M.P. at 10:20 pm 0 comments
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Domingos
Posted by M.P. at 3:22 pm 0 comments
Friday, May 09, 2008
Poema... na voz dum Poeta
COMO SE FAZ O POEMA
Para falarmos do meio de obter o poema,
a retórica não serve. Trata-se de uma coisa simples, que não
precisa de requintes nem de fórmulas. Apanha-se
uma flor, por exemplo, mas que não seja dessas flores que crescem
no meio do campo, nem das que se vendem nas lojas
ou nos mercados. É uma flor de sílabas, em que as
pétalas são as vogais, e o caule uma consoante. Põe-se
no jarro da estrofe, e deixa-se estar. Para que não morra,
basta um pedaço de primavera na água, que se vai
buscar à imaginação, quando está um dia de chuva,
ou se faz entrar pela janela, quando o ar fresco
da manhã enche o quarto de azul. Então,
a flor confunde-se com o poema, mas ainda não é
o poema. Para que ele nasça, a flor precisa
de encontrar cores mais naturais do que essas
que a natureza lhe deu. Podem ser as cores do teu
rosto – a sua brancura, quando o sol vem ter contigo,
ou o fundo dos teus olhos em que todas as cores
da vida se confundem, com o brilho da vida. Depois,
deito essas cores sobre a corola, e vejo-as descerem
para as folhas, como a seiva que corre pelos
veios invisíveis da alma. Posso, então, colher a flor,
e o que tenho na mão é este poema que
me deste.
© 2005, Nuno Júdice
From: Geometria variável
Publisher: Dom Quixote, Lisboa, 2005
~~~~~~~~~~
HOW TO MAKE A POEM
If we’re going to talk about how to make a poem,
rhetoric has nothing to do with it. It’s simpler than that, and doesn’t
require subtleties or formulas. Pick
a flower, for example, but not one of those flowers that grow
in the middle of fields, nor the ones they sell in stores,
or in the markets. A flower of syllables rather, in which the
petals are vowels, and the stem is the consonant. Place it
in the vase of the stanza, and let it be. So that it doesn’t die,
it’s enough to put a little Spring in the water, which,
on a rainy day, is fetched from the imagination,
or is pushed in through the window when the cool air
of morning fills the blue room. This is when
the flower begins to seem like a poem, but it’s still not
the poem. For it to really sprout, the flower needs
to find more natural colors than those
which nature gave it. They might be the colors
of your complexion – its whiteness, when the sun falls on you,
or the depths of your eyes in which all the colors
of life mix with the sheen of life. After that,
I pour these colors over the corolla, and watch them descend
to the leaves, like sap which runs through
the invisible veins of the soul. I can then pick the flower,
and what I have in my hand is this poem
that you gave me.
© Translation: 2007, Martin Earl
Publisher: Poetry International Festival, Rotterdam, 2007
Posted by M.P. at 6:04 pm 0 comments
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Confiar...
... é partilhar o que aferrolhamos no Coração com outro Coração a sentir que deles precisamos.
... Trust ...~~~~~~~~~
... is sharing what we have locked in our Heart with another Heart feeling we are in urgent need of doing so.
Posted by M.P. at 9:21 am 0 comments
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Metamorfoses repentinas
Quem era anjo passou a diabo... De um dia para o outro.
Qual será a próxima metamorfose? ~~~~~~~~~~
Yesterday a devil, now an angel!
Who was the angel is now a devil. From night to day.
Which metamorphosis will happen next?
Posted by M.P. at 10:08 pm 0 comments
Monday, May 05, 2008
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Fúrias...
Fúrias
Escorraçadas do pecado e do sagrado
Habitam agora a mais íntima humildade
Do quotidiano. São
Torneira que se estraga atraso de autocarro
Sopa que transborda na panela
Caneta que se perde aspirador que não aspira
Táxi que não há recibo estraviado
Empurrão cotovelada espera
Burocrático desvario
Sem clamor sem olhar
Sem cabelos eriçados de serpentes
Com as meticulosas mãos do dia-a-dia
Elas nos desfiam
Elas são a peculiar maravilha do mundo moderno
Sem rosto e sem máscara
Sem nome e sem sopro
São as hidras de mil cabeças da eficácia que se avaria
Já não perseguem sacrílegos e parricidas
Preferem vítimas inocentes
Que de forma nenhuma as provocaram
Por elas o dia perde seus longos planos lisos
Seu sumo de fruta
Sua fragrância de flor
Seu marinho alvoroço
E o tempo é transformado
Em tarefa e pressa
A contratempo
© 1991, Sophia de Mello Breyner
From: Obra Poética III
Publisher: Caminho, Lisboa ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Furies Banished from sin and the sacred
Now they inhabit the humble intimacy
Of daily life. They are
The leaky faucet the late bus
The soup that boils over
The lost pen the vacuum that doesn’t vacuum
The taxi that doesn’t come the mislaid receipt
Shoving pushing waiting
Bureaucratic madness
Without shouting or staring
Without bristly serpent hair
With the meticulous hands of the day-to-day
They undo us
They’re the peculiar wonder of the modern world
Faceless and maskless
Nameless and breathless
The thousand-headed hydras of efficiency gone haywire
They no longer pursue desecrators and parricides
They prefer innocent victims
Who did nothing to provoke them
Thanks to them the day loses its smooth expanses
Its juice of ripe fruits
Its fragrance of flowers
Its high-sea passion
And time is transformed
Into toil and the rush
Against time
© Translation: 2004, Richard Zenith
Posted by M.P. at 3:07 pm 0 comments
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Na realidade ...
Posted by M.P. at 11:48 pm 1 comments
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Da mesma maneira ...
O "bichinho" não morreu ...
Posted by M.P. at 10:23 pm 0 comments
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Por agora...
um OBRIGADA por me terem visitado e lido!
Vou-me.
Reaparecerei por certo mas não sei como nem quando. ~~~~~~~~
Posted by M.P. at 11:49 pm 1 comments
Monday, January 21, 2008
Ontem...
Esperei por a sua exibição cá no Porto e ... não fui defraudada.
Um óptimo espectáculo que não fica atrás de produções internacionais.
Parabéns, Filipe La Feria, Anabela, Carlos Quintas e a todos que participam neste musical.
It wasn't at Politeama. It was at Rivoli instead.
I've waited for the show to come to Porto... I didn't get deceived.
A great musical that international productions don't minimise.
Posted by M.P. at 10:46 pm 0 comments
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Num Domingo de chuva ... ** On a rainy Sunday ...
... em melancolia de uma música de Rosa Vermelha de Rebordos Prateados. ~~~~~~~~~~~ ... in a melancholic Silver Edged Red Rose tune.
Posted by M.P. at 2:06 pm 0 comments
Friday, January 11, 2008
Palavras e encantos
Music Glitters - MySpace Comments
~~~~~~~~~
There are words which twinkle
Posted by M.P. at 11:15 pm 0 comments
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Será que acredito mesmo? ** Do I really believe that?
I believe I can fly
Iused to think that i could not go on
And life was nothing but an awful song
But now I know the meaning of true love
I'm leaning on the everlasting arms
If I can see it, then I can do it
If I just believe it, there's nothing to it
I believe I can fly
I believe I can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day
Spread my wings and fly away
I believe I can soar
I see me running through that open door
I believe I can fly
I believe I can fly
(oh) I believe I can fly
See iI was on the verge of breaking down
Sometimes the silence can seem so loud
There are miracles in life I must achieve
But first I know it starts inside of me
(repeat 2 with a change: instead of "if i can see it then i can do it", is "if
I can see it, then I can be it", 1...)
Could I believe in it?
Posted by M.P. at 12:40 am 0 comments