Espantos #562

Halloween so far:

frosty fall colors and a visit from my favorite (black) cat.

It's gonna be a good day :-)

No Times de hoje #188

The New York Times is hiring. Deadline is today... last call!

Palavras lidas #394

On Rhyme
by Billy Collins

It is possible that a stitch in time
might have as many as twelve or as few as three,
and I have no trouble remembering
that September has thirty days.
So do June, November, and April.

I like a cat wearing a chapeau or a trilby,
Little Jack Horner sitting on a sofa,
old men who are not from Nantucket,
and how life can seem almost unreal
when you are gently rowing a boat down a stream. 

That's why instead of recalling today
that it pours mostly in Spain,
I am going to picture rain in Portugal,
how it falls on the hillside vineyards,
on the surface of the deep harbors

where fishing boats are swaying, 
and in the narrow alleys of the cities, 
where three boys in tee shirts
are kicking a soccer ball in the rain,
ignoring the window-cries of their mothers.

The Rain in Portugal - Poems, New York: Random House, 2016, pp. 41

Coisas que não mudam #468

Text message from the mobile phone company:

Don't feel sour, clocks go back an hour.
No need for dread, you get more time in bed.

Remember 2am on Sunday.

Espantos #561

Another one for the collection of funny beer names

Outro para a colecção de nomes de cerveja engraçados

Parece que estou a ouvir #271

It's time

Imagine Dragons

So this is what you meant

When you said that you were spent
And now it's time to build from the bottom of the pit, right to the top
Don't hold back
Packing my bags and giving the Academy a rain check

I don't ever want to let you down
I don't ever want to leave this town
'Cause after all
This city never sleeps at night

It's time to begin, isn't it?
I get a little bit bigger but then I'll admit
I'm just the same as I was
Now don't you understand
That I'm never changing who I am

So this is where you fell
And I am left to sell
The path to heaven runs through miles of clouded hell right to the top
Don't look back
Turning to rags and giving the commodities a rain check

I don't ever want to let you down
I don't ever want to leave this town
'Cause after all
This city never sleeps at night

It's time to begin, isn't it?
I get a little bit bigger but then I'll admit
I'm just the same as I was
Now don't you understand
That I'm never changing who I am

It's time to begin, isn't it?
I get a little bit bigger but then I'll admit
I'm just the same as I was
Now don't you understand
That I'm never changing who I am

This road never looked so lonely
This house doesn't burn down slowly
To ashes
To ashes

It's time to begin, isn't it?
I get a little bit bigger but then I'll admit
I'm just the same as I was
Now don't you understand
That I'm never changing who I am

It's time to begin, isn't it?
I get a little bit bigger but then I'll admit
I'm just the same as I was
Now don't you understand
That I'm never changing who I am

Caprichos #509

Lovely Rolf keeps coming back for new adventures!

O encantador Rolf continua as suas aventuras perto de nós!

Parece que estou a ouvir #270

Faz 16 anos no fim do mês...

Velha Infância
Tribalistas

Você é assim
Um sonho p'ra mim
E quando eu não te vejo
Eu penso em você
Desde o amanhecer
Até quando eu me deito

Eu gosto de você
E gosto de ficar com você
Meu riso é tão feliz contigo
O meu melhor amigo
É o meu amor

E a gente canta
E a gente dança
E a gente não se cansa
De ser criança
A gente brinca
Na nossa velha infância

Seus olhos, meu clarão
Me guiam dentro da escuridão
Seus pés me abrem o caminho
Eu sigo e nunca me sinto só

Você é assim
Um sonho p'ra mim
Quero te encher de beijos
Eu penso em você
Desde o amanhecer
Até quando eu me deito

Eu gosto de você
E gosto de ficar com você
Meu riso é tão feliz contigo
O meu melhor amigo
É o meu amor

E a gente canta
E a gente dança
E a gente não se cansa
De ser criança
A gente brinca
Na nossa velha infância

Seus olhos, meu clarão
Me guiam dentro da escuridão
Seus pés me abrem o caminho
Eu sigo e nunca me sinto só

Você é assim
Um sonho p'ra mim
Você é assim
Você é assim
Você é assim

Você é assim
Um sonho p'ra mim
E quando eu não te vejo
Penso em você
Desde o amanhecer
Até quando me deito
Eu gosto de você
Eu gosto de ficar com você
Meu riso é tão feliz contigo
O meu melhor amigo
É o meu amor

Caprichos #508

Kirby! Warwick library's penguin.

Numa sala perto de mim #388

First Man (2018) focuses on Neil Armstrong's professional and personal life from 1961, when he got assigned to the lunar mission, to 1969 when he landed on the moon. The movie shows plenty of detail that 5+ decades have erased, but the combination of Armstrong's two sides does not really work well on camera. Ryan Gosling still makes it all worth while.

Coisas que não mudam #467

Como as belas artes captam o desespero

em Pádua.

Caprichos #507

Today was a good day:

sweet crepe,

bubble tea,

and even a visit from Rolfie!

Coisas que não mudam #466

Morning stroll awarenesses:

geese that forgot they were crossing the street

and started clearing their feathers instead

the impressive morning colors

and, of course, the fall season which is all around.

Coisas que não mudam #465

É às 7 da manhã que elas mordem...

Differences are much more stark at 7am...

Cores de Outono #54

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,
Steal from his figure and no pace perceived;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion and mine eye may be deceived:
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred;
Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.

William Shakespeare, Sonnet CIV

Espantos #560

A constância térmica do Porto Santo

The constancy of temperatures in Porto Santo

Ditto #395

It's the job of intellectuals and writers to cast doubt on perfection.

--Antonio Tabucchi

Palavras lidas #393

The Present
by Billy Collins

Much has been said about being in the present,
It's the place to be, according to the gurus,
like the latest club on the downtown scene,
but no one, it seems, is able to give you directions.

It doesn't seem desirable or even possible
to wake up every morning and begin
leaping from one second into the next
until you fall exhausted back into bed.

Plus, there'd be no past
with so many scenes to savor and regret,
and no future, the place you will die 
but not before flying around with a jet-pack.

The trouble with the present is
that it's always in a state of vanishing.
Take the second it takes to end
this sentence with a period---already gone.

What about the moment that exists
between banging your thumb
with a hammer and realizing
you are in a while lot of pain?

What about the one that occurs
after you hear the punch line
but before you get the joke?
Is that where the wise men want us to live

in the intervening tick, the tiny slot
that occurs after you have spent hours
searching downtown for that new club
and just before you give up and head back home?

The Rain in Portugal - Poems, New York: Random House, 2016, pp. 36-7

No Times de hoje #187

São Tomé and also Príncipe in the New York Times' travel section

São Tomé e também Príncipe na secção de viagens do New York Times

Caprichos #506

Ricordi patavini

Recordações de Pádua

Retirado do contexto #251

Um seminário diferente

A different seminar

Espantos #559

Um dia não são dias, mas eta anomalia pôs-me um sorriso na cara :-)

Cores de Outono #53

Something special about the colours on an Autumn morning

Há algo de especial nas cores de uma manhã de Outono

Parece que estou a ouvir #269

Coisa mais bonita

Carolina Deslandes e António Zambujo

És o sol em Agosto
O nevar de Dezembro
És tudo quanto gosto
Tudo o que me lembro
A canção que me acalma
O café quente na cama
És poiso prá minh'alma
Quando a noite te chama

És todas as histórias
E todos os clichês
Todos os os romances
De Era uma vez
És o Amor Eterno
De Pedro e Inês
Coisa mais bonita que Deus fez

És calor de fim de tarde
O avesso da neblina
A lua em cada fase
A flor de cada esquina
O meu porto de abrigo
A minha oração
O meu melhor amigo
A razão desta canção

És todas as histórias
E todos os clichês
Todos os os romances
De Era uma vez
És o Amor Eterno
De Pedro e Inês
Coisa mais bonita que Deus fez

Coisa mais bonita que Deus fez

Coisa mais bonita que Deus fez

Caprichos #505

Four paws and one tail

Quatro patas e uma cauda

Coisas que não mudam #464

Belas paisagens dos Alpes italianos

em jeito de segunda volta

Caprichos #504

Hearts within hearts

Corações dentro de corações

Parece que estou a ouvir #268

Down by the Salley Gardens

poem by William Yeates, music by Benjamin Britten*

Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet;

She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.

She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree;

But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.

In a field by the river my love and I did stand,

And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.

She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs;

But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.

______

*the traditionally Irish tune is familiar

Palavras lidas #392

Sete anos de pastor

por Luís de Camões

Sete anos de pastor Jacob servia
Labão, pai de Raquel, serrana bela;
Mas não servia ao pai, servia a ela,
E a ela só por prémio pretendia.

Os dias, na esperança de um só dia,
Passava, contentando-se com vê-la;
Porém o pai, usando de cautela,
Em lugar de Raquel lhe dava Lia.

Vendo o triste pastor que com enganos
Lhe fora assim negada a sua pastora,
Como se a não tivera merecida;

Começa de servir outros sete anos,
Dizendo: – Mais servira, se não fora
Para tão longo amor tão curta a vida!

Espantos #558

Papafava, também em Pádua!

Bonifácio Papafava era um rico comerciante originário de Pádua, mas mudou-se para Veneza em inícios do século XVII ao comprar a sua entrada no livro da nobreza daquela cidade, onde casou com Pesarina Pesaro em 1615.

Ditto #394

You wouldn't worry so much about what others think of you if you realized how seldom they do.

--Eleanor Roosevelt