There is no path to peace...

Stillness... III, originally uploaded by Joe Taruga.

My mother always used to say, "
There is no path to peace. Peace is the path.

Donald Freed

Heaven is...

Não é nenhum poema..., originally uploaded by Joe Taruga.

Heaven is what I cannot reach!
The apple on the tree,
Provided it do hopeless hang,
That "heaven" is, to me.


The color on the cruising cloud,
The interdicted ground
Behind the hill, the house behind, --
There Paradise is found!


Emily Dickinson

Num dia...

raindrops, originally uploaded by ana_maria_.

"NUM DIA DE FINGIDA TRANSUMÂNCIA
eu, pássaro materno dos país,
levarei nas asas
o verão descuidado
e as palavras que devem ser ouvidas.

Oh! tempo essencial
na alvorada irei colher
sob o arco da ponte adormecida
as bicadas do orvalho;
no caule da sombra
retrato do meu caminho,
apelarei para a luz
eu, pássaro-poeta
que viu René(*)
inaugurar seu voo numa rajada de vento."

Jean-Albert Guénégan

(*) René Guy Cadou

These, the people of the island

People from the sea..., originally uploaded by Azorina.

These are the people born from the ocean. Their blood
came from salt. Their veins have floated
between wigs of seaweed and funguses of basalt.
their mouths opened within the remote forgetfulness
of the seashells. Memory is the deserted shell
the rolled sandy boulder on the cliff.

Generated maybe between the sickly calling of the wales
and the semblances of the ships. Because these people
(re)cognize themselves between sand and sea
in the precise moment that the rock
and the body touch each other and love
the water.

And that is why fish swim
trough our eyes

they travel between us and us and the certainty
of the body.

These, the people of the island de João de Melo in On a Leaf of Blue

Why do colors...

Reflections of my dreams ..., originally uploaded by Azorina.

Why do two colors, put one next to the other, sing? Can one really explain this? no. Just as one can never learn how to paint.


Pablo Picasso

When I am alone I am happy...

Eu e a Ponta de S Lourenço, originally uploaded by BlueDolphim.

When I am alone I am happy.
The air is cool. The sky is
flecked and splashed and wound
with color. The crimson phalloi
of the sassafras leaves
hang crowded before me
in shoals on the heavy branches.
When I reach my doorstep
I am greeted by
the happy shrieks of my children
and my heart sinks.
I am crushed.

Are not my children as dear to me
as falling leaves or
must one become stupid
to grow older?
It seems much as if Sorrow
had tripped up my heels.
Let us see, let us see!
What did I plan to say to her
when it should happen to me
as it has happened now?

William Carlos Williams

The curves...

Paisagem, originally uploaded by DjSousa.

”i am not attracted to straight angles or to the straight line, hard and inflexible, created by man. i am attracted to free-flowing, sensual curves. the curves that i find in the mountains of my country, in the sinuousness of its rivers, in the waves of the ocean, and on the body of the beloved woman. curves make up the entire universe, the curved universe of einstein.”

(Oscar Niemeyer)

A concha

Também o deserto vem..., originally uploaded by Joe Taruga.

"A minha casa é concha. Como os bichos
Segreguei-a de mim com paciência:
Fechada de marés, a sonhos e a lixos,
O horto e os muros só areia e ausência.

Minha casa sou eu e os meus caprichos.
O orgulho carregado de inocência
Se às vezes dá uma varanda, vence-a
O sal que os santos esboroou nos nichos.

E telhadosa de vidro, e escadarias
Frágeis, cobertas de hera, oh bronze falso!
Lareira aberta pelo vento, as salas frias.

A minha casa... Mas é outra a história:
Sou eu ao vento e à chuva, aqui descalço,
Sentado numa pedra de memória.

A Concha - Vitorino Nemésio

Cabelos

The dancer, originally uploaded by isolano.

Ó vagas de cabelos esparsas longamente,
Que sois o vasto espelho onde eu me vou mirar,
E tendes o cristal dum lago refulgente
E a rude escuridão dum largo e negro mar;

Cabelos torrenciais daquela que me enleva,
Deixai-me mergulhar as mãos e os braços nus
No báratro febril da vossa grande treva,
Que tem cintilações e meigos céus de luz.

Deixai-me navegar, morosamente, a remos,
Quando ele estiver brando e livre de tufões,
E, ao plácido luar, ó vagas, marulhemos
E enchamos de harmonia as amplas solidões.

Deixai-me naufragar no cimo dos cachopos
Ocultos nesse abismo ebânico e tão bom
Como um licor renano a fermentar nos copos,
Abismo que se espraia em rendas de Alençon!

E ó mágica mulher, ó minha Inigualável,
Que tens o imenso bem de ter cabelos tais,
E os pisas desdenhosa, altiva, imperturbável,
Entre o rumor banal do hinos triunfais;

Consente que eu aspire esse perfume raro,
Que exalas da cabeça erguida com fulgor,
Perfume que estonteia um milionário avaro
E faz morrer de febre um pobre sonhador.

Eu sei que tu possuis balsâmicos desejos,
E vais na direcção constante do querer,
Mas ouço, ao ver-te andar, melódicos harpejos,
Que fazem mansamente amar e enlanguescer.

E a tua cabeleira, errante pelas costas,
Suponho que te serve, em noites de Verão,
De flácido espaldar aonde te recostas
Se sentes o abandono e a morna prostração.

E ela há-de, ela há-de, um dia, em turbilhões insanos,
Nos rolos envolver-me e armar-me do vigor
Que antigamente deu, nos circos dos romanos,
Um óleo para ungir o corpo ao gladiador.


Cabelos - Cesário Verde

All the world's a stage...

(....O) (....O), originally uploaded by eloisavh.

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.


William Shakespeare