The many 'ss' in pasta!!
Quantos 'ss' em massa!!
08 junho, 2017
06 junho, 2017
Palavras lidas #338
For a Moment
by Ron Padgett
It’s funny how
if you just let go
of things they
will come to
you. That is to say
sometimes. So what
good is such a
generalization?
Ah, it makes you
feel good to say
such things from
time to time,
as if you actually
and really and truly
knew something!
by Ron Padgett
It’s funny how
if you just let go
of things they
will come to
you. That is to say
sometimes. So what
good is such a
generalization?
Ah, it makes you
feel good to say
such things from
time to time,
as if you actually
and really and truly
knew something!
05 junho, 2017
Ditto #359
The business of the poet and the novelist is to show the sorriness underlying the grandest things and the grandeur underlying the sorriest things.
--Thomas Hardy
03 junho, 2017
Palavras lidas #337
Weather
by Faith Shearin
There is weather on the day you are born
and weather on the day you die. There is
the year of drought, and the year of floods,
when everything rises and swells,
the year when winter will not stop falling,
and the year when summer lightning
burns the prairie, makes it disappear.
There are the weathervanes, dizzy
on top of farmhouses, hurricanes
curled like cats on a map of sky:
there are cows under the trees outlined
in flies. There is the weather that blows
a stranger into town and the weather
that changes suddenly: an argument,
a sickness, a baby born
too soon. Crops fail and a field becomes
a study in hunger; storm clouds
billow over the sea;
tornadoes appear like the drunk
trunks of elephants. People talking about
weather are people who don’t know what to say
and yet the weather is what happens to all of us:
the blizzard that makes our neighborhoods
strange, the flood that carries away
our plans. We are getting ready for the weather,
or cleaning up after the weather, or enduring
the weather. We are drenched in rain
or sweat: we are looking for an umbrella,
a second mitten; we are gathering
wood to build a fire.
by Faith Shearin
There is weather on the day you are born
and weather on the day you die. There is
the year of drought, and the year of floods,
when everything rises and swells,
the year when winter will not stop falling,
and the year when summer lightning
burns the prairie, makes it disappear.
There are the weathervanes, dizzy
on top of farmhouses, hurricanes
curled like cats on a map of sky:
there are cows under the trees outlined
in flies. There is the weather that blows
a stranger into town and the weather
that changes suddenly: an argument,
a sickness, a baby born
too soon. Crops fail and a field becomes
a study in hunger; storm clouds
billow over the sea;
tornadoes appear like the drunk
trunks of elephants. People talking about
weather are people who don’t know what to say
and yet the weather is what happens to all of us:
the blizzard that makes our neighborhoods
strange, the flood that carries away
our plans. We are getting ready for the weather,
or cleaning up after the weather, or enduring
the weather. We are drenched in rain
or sweat: we are looking for an umbrella,
a second mitten; we are gathering
wood to build a fire.
02 junho, 2017
01 junho, 2017
Ditto #358
All the ills of mankind, all the tragic misfortunes that fill the history books, all the political blunders, all the failures of the great leaders have arisen merely from a lack of skill at dancing.
--Molière
31 maio, 2017
30 maio, 2017
29 maio, 2017
Palavras lidas #336
Used Book
by Julie Kane
What luck—an open bookstore up ahead
as rain lashed awnings over Royal Street,
and then to find the books were secondhand,
with one whole wall assigned to poetry;
and then, as if that wasn’t luck enough,
to find, between Jarrell and Weldon Kees,
the blue-on-cream, familiar backbone of
my chapbook, out of print since ’83—
its cover very slightly coffee-stained,
but aging (all in all) no worse than flesh
through all those cycles of the seasons since
its publication by a London press.
Then, out of luck, I read the name inside:
The man I thought would love me till I died.
by Julie Kane
What luck—an open bookstore up ahead
as rain lashed awnings over Royal Street,
and then to find the books were secondhand,
with one whole wall assigned to poetry;
and then, as if that wasn’t luck enough,
to find, between Jarrell and Weldon Kees,
the blue-on-cream, familiar backbone of
my chapbook, out of print since ’83—
its cover very slightly coffee-stained,
but aging (all in all) no worse than flesh
through all those cycles of the seasons since
its publication by a London press.
Then, out of luck, I read the name inside:
The man I thought would love me till I died.
28 maio, 2017
Conselhos úteis #11
Still in the fairy tale land of Odense...
Some quotes of HC Anderson's short stories actually provide some useful advice. Said in language for children it actually resonates at any stage of life.
Coisas bonitas #11
No voo de Copenhaga para Lisboa vêm-se coisas bonitas!
Logo após a descolagem vê-se todo o aeroporto de Copenhaga
na beira do estreito de Øresund com a ilha artificial de Peberholm
onde emerge o túnel rodo-ferroviário que liga Copenhaga na Dinamarca a Malmö na Suécia. O referido túnel (de 4 km) transforma-se em ponte suspensa (de 8 km) já do lado sueco numa impressionante obra de engenharia concluída em 1999.
Perto da chegada e já sobrevoando Portugal reconhecem-se conhecidas localidades como:
a Nazaré
e a Ericeira.
26 maio, 2017
Pedaços de Odense
170 km a oeste de Copenhaga fica a cidade de Odense com cerca de 180,000 habitantes. O comboio liga as duas cidades três vezes à hora, com o comboio rápido a demorar uma hora (duas paragens) e o lento apenas mais 15 minutos (nove paragens). Odense é a terra de Hans Christian Andersen, autor de conhecidas histórias infantis como O Patinho Feio, O Soldadinho de Chumbo, A Pequena Sereia, ou A Nova Roupa do Rei (que de facto ia nu!)... em vários aspectos Odense parece saída de um conto de fadas. Ora, Odense tem:
muitas referências a HC Anderson, desde a estátua
na entrada do Hotel Radisson com o seu nome
a referências mais discretas pela cidade;
ruas de casas baixas e coloridas onde sobressai
a casa de HC Anderson hoje museu,
que nas traseiras tem um lago com patinhos que nadam
outros que dormem na beira do lago (às 7am é bem de dia mas é cedo!).
Lojas de motivos alusivos aos contos de HC Andersen,
que seria óptimo visitar, não fora o horário proibitivo.
Mas Odense também tem uma catedral de pé há cerca de 900 anos,
o campus da Universidade do Sul da Dinamarca
com mais bicicletas que carros
tendência da cidade e e porventura dos países nórdicos.
25 maio, 2017
Espantos #503
Variações de paisagem (e de tempo) na viagem de avião entre Barcelona e Copenhaga:
a começar pelos aviões que se vêm no aeroporto de origem
e o sol aberto que se reflecte na água após a descolagem;
voltamos depois a sobrevoar terra sobre a costa Francesa
algures entre Marseille e Toulon;
a pouco e pouco a neve começa a aparecer (em Maio!);
primeiro timidamente, depois sem qualquer vergonha
até nos encontrarmos no cenário de um postal suíço!
Deixando a neve para trás entramos em território alemão
plano e desinteressante... a acção encontra-se em cima :-)
ao descer para Copenhaga tantas nuvens
que quase não se veem os postes de energia eólica plantados no mar.
E no aeroporto muitos aviões de linhas aéreas nórdicas...
estamos de facto noutra região!
24 maio, 2017
Palavras lidas #335
Happy the Man
by John Dryden
Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
Be fair or foul or rain or shine
The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
by John Dryden
Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
Be fair or foul or rain or shine
The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
Foi neste dia #311 (1686)
Há 331 anos nascia na cidade de Danzig (hoje Gdansk na Polónia), Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit (1686-1736), pioneiro no estudo da medição das temperaturas e também o inventor do termómetro a mercúrio.
A escala de temperatura com o seu nome tem três pontos de referência: 0ºF quando o termómetro se encontra numa mistura de água, gelo e amoníaco; 32ºF quando o termómetro está dentro de água e o gelo se começa a formar à superfície (o ponto de congelação); e 96ºF quando o termómetro mede a temperatura do corpo humano debaixo do braço ou da língua.
A escala em graus fahrenheit contrasta com a de graus celsius (ou centígrados), inventada pelo sueco Anders Celsius (1701-1744), contemporâneo de Fahrenheit. A escala de celsius tem dois valores de referência relativamente às propriedades da água: 0ºC para congelação e 100ºC para ebulição.
331 years ago, Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit (1686-1736) was born in the city of Danzig (today Gdansk in Poland). He was pioneer in the study of thermometry and also the inventor of the mercury thermometer.
The temperature scale bearing his name has three points of reference: 0ºF for the thermometer placed in a mix of water, ice and ammonium; 32ºF when the thermometer was placed in water as ice was just forming on the surface (the freezing point); and 96ºF for the measurement of the thermometer when placed under the arm or the tongue.
The fahrenheit scale contrasts with the celsius (or centigrade) scale, invented by the Swede Anders Celsius (1701-1744) a contemporaneous of Fahrenheit. The celsius scale has two reference points relative to the properties of water: 0ºC for freezing and 100ºC for boiling.
23 maio, 2017
Primavera #83
Em Odense, a primavera chega tarde, mas chega!
In Odense, Spring arrives late, but it does!
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