Roma tem:
ruínas, tantas;
guardadas por gatos,
pouquíssimos!
Igrejas
tantíssimas;
fontes
muitas;
cúpulas e cúpulas;
o Vaticano (com a grande cúpula)
e claro, o papa;
em suma, um património histórico único!
04 janeiro, 2020
03 janeiro, 2020
02 janeiro, 2020
Palavras lidas #446
More of Everything
by Joyce Sutphen
The people who made me possible
came from places in middle Europe,
riding steamships through the middle of
the nineteenth century. They didn't
always get their right names, and if
they wrote home, I never heard.
The people who made me possible
worked hard clearing the land, tree
by stump by prairie grass, hauling
rock off the fields and gravel to the
roads. They seldom stopped to consider
if here was better than over there––
wherever that was. If they regretted
anything, they didn't say, and they
didn't tell stories about the old country;
my people didn't make a fuss
about being born or dying early––
they always died early––which
explains why they loved weddings
and christenings, birthdays and
the Fourth of July––any time they could
sit at a picnic table listening to
a polka band, going back many
times for more of everything.
by Joyce Sutphen
The people who made me possible
came from places in middle Europe,
riding steamships through the middle of
the nineteenth century. They didn't
always get their right names, and if
they wrote home, I never heard.
The people who made me possible
worked hard clearing the land, tree
by stump by prairie grass, hauling
rock off the fields and gravel to the
roads. They seldom stopped to consider
if here was better than over there––
wherever that was. If they regretted
anything, they didn't say, and they
didn't tell stories about the old country;
my people didn't make a fuss
about being born or dying early––
they always died early––which
explains why they loved weddings
and christenings, birthdays and
the Fourth of July––any time they could
sit at a picnic table listening to
a polka band, going back many
times for more of everything.
01 janeiro, 2020
31 dezembro, 2019
Palavras lidas #445
The Meeting
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
After so long an absence
At last we meet again:
Does the meeting give us pleasure,
Or does it give us pain?
The tree of life has been shaken,
And but few of us linger now,
Like the Prophet’s two or three berries
In the top of the uttermost bough.
We cordially greet each other
In the old, familiar tone;
And we think, though we do not say it,
How old and gray he is grown!
We speak of a Merry Christmas
And many a Happy New Year
But each in his heart is thinking
Of those that are not here.
We speak of friends and their fortunes,
And of what they did and said,
Till the dead alone seem living,
And the living alone seem dead.
And at last we hardly distinguish
Between the ghosts and the guests;
And a mist and shadow of sadness
Steals over our merriest jests.
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
After so long an absence
At last we meet again:
Does the meeting give us pleasure,
Or does it give us pain?
The tree of life has been shaken,
And but few of us linger now,
Like the Prophet’s two or three berries
In the top of the uttermost bough.
We cordially greet each other
In the old, familiar tone;
And we think, though we do not say it,
How old and gray he is grown!
We speak of a Merry Christmas
And many a Happy New Year
But each in his heart is thinking
Of those that are not here.
We speak of friends and their fortunes,
And of what they did and said,
Till the dead alone seem living,
And the living alone seem dead.
And at last we hardly distinguish
Between the ghosts and the guests;
And a mist and shadow of sadness
Steals over our merriest jests.
30 dezembro, 2019
29 dezembro, 2019
Coisas que não mudam #533
Em Roma,
para além do presépio, as igrejas têm frequentemente em exposição o menino Jesus sozinho (sem pai nem mãe) no altar. Gostei particularmente do da Igreja de Santo António dos Portugueses, aqui na última fotografia.
28 dezembro, 2019
25 dezembro, 2019
Palavras lidas #444
The Christmas Story
by Robin Richstone
We know by heart these stories
of a cold world, unwelcoming inn,
the murderous tyrant,
Mary on a donkey, escape,
how cruel, how long ago, how far
from what we mean to sing,
O Come, O Come,
to the weary, the terrified,
Mary’s heart beating fast,
her grip on the baby,
the strains of it fill the shops,
the streets, flow down rivers,
cross seas, cross borders,
the refugee mother kneels
to change her infant in
an open field, the shepherds gone,
the angels quiet,
her safety now
completely up to us.
by Robin Richstone
We know by heart these stories
of a cold world, unwelcoming inn,
the murderous tyrant,
Mary on a donkey, escape,
how cruel, how long ago, how far
from what we mean to sing,
O Come, O Come,
to the weary, the terrified,
Mary’s heart beating fast,
her grip on the baby,
the strains of it fill the shops,
the streets, flow down rivers,
cross seas, cross borders,
the refugee mother kneels
to change her infant in
an open field, the shepherds gone,
the angels quiet,
her safety now
completely up to us.
Parece que estou a ouvir #306
Traditional English Christmas Carol
The First Noel, the Angels did say
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay
In fields where they lay keeping their sheep
On a cold winter's night that was so deep
Refrain
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Born is the King of Israel!
They looked up and saw a star
Shining in the East beyond them far
And to the earth it gave great light
And so it continued both day and night:
Refrain
And by the light of that same star,
Three Wise Men came from country far;
To seek for a King was their intent,
And to follow the star whersoever it went:Refrain
This star drew nigh to the north-west;
O'er Bethlehem it took its rest;
And there it did both stop and stay
Right over the place where Jesus lay:Refrain
Then entered in those Wise Men three,
Full reverently upon their knee,
And offered there in his presence,
Their gold and myrrh and frankincense:Refrain
Then let us all with one accord
Sing praises to our heavenly Lord
That hath made heaven and earth of nought,
And with his blood mankind hath bought:
Refrain
Born is the King of Israel!
They looked up and saw a star
Shining in the East beyond them far
And to the earth it gave great light
And so it continued both day and night:
Refrain
And by the light of that same star,
Three Wise Men came from country far;
To seek for a King was their intent,
And to follow the star whersoever it went:Refrain
This star drew nigh to the north-west;
O'er Bethlehem it took its rest;
And there it did both stop and stay
Right over the place where Jesus lay:Refrain
Then entered in those Wise Men three,
Full reverently upon their knee,
And offered there in his presence,
Their gold and myrrh and frankincense:Refrain
Then let us all with one accord
Sing praises to our heavenly Lord
That hath made heaven and earth of nought,
And with his blood mankind hath bought:
Refrain
24 dezembro, 2019
23 dezembro, 2019
21 dezembro, 2019
Palavras lidas #443
Local Obits
by Thomas Lynch
It was the Alzheimer’s made Maurice sweet
those last ten years in contrast with the six
decades and then some of huffing and puffing
his way through three marriages, a couple of
unsuccessful runs for public office,
his business and the love of his children.
“God’s Will” is what his only daughter called it,
to see that awful, angry man gone soft,
gone simple and benevolent at last.
“You take the good with the bad,” she reckoned.
“He didn’t know me at the end, but he approved.”
by Thomas Lynch
It was the Alzheimer’s made Maurice sweet
those last ten years in contrast with the six
decades and then some of huffing and puffing
his way through three marriages, a couple of
unsuccessful runs for public office,
his business and the love of his children.
“God’s Will” is what his only daughter called it,
to see that awful, angry man gone soft,
gone simple and benevolent at last.
“You take the good with the bad,” she reckoned.
“He didn’t know me at the end, but he approved.”
20 dezembro, 2019
Parece que estou a ouvir #305
Lee Marvin
music & lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner / Frederick Loewe
I was born under a wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star
Wheels are made for rollin'
Mules are made to pack
I've never seen a sight that didn't look better looking back
I was born under a wandrin' star
Mud can make you prisoner, and the plains can bake you dry
Snow can burn your eyes, but only people make you cry
Home is made for comin' from, for dreams of goin' to
Which with any luck will never come true
I was born under a wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star
Do I know where hell is?
Hell is in hello
Heaven is goodbye for ever, it's time for me to go
I was born under a wandrin' star
A wandrin' wandrin' star
When I get to heaven tie me to a tree
Or I'll begin to roam, and soon you know where I will be
I was born under a wandrin' star
A wandrin' wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star
Wheels are made for rollin'
Mules are made to pack
I've never seen a sight that didn't look better looking back
I was born under a wandrin' star
Mud can make you prisoner, and the plains can bake you dry
Snow can burn your eyes, but only people make you cry
Home is made for comin' from, for dreams of goin' to
Which with any luck will never come true
I was born under a wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star
Do I know where hell is?
Hell is in hello
Heaven is goodbye for ever, it's time for me to go
I was born under a wandrin' star
A wandrin' wandrin' star
When I get to heaven tie me to a tree
Or I'll begin to roam, and soon you know where I will be
I was born under a wandrin' star
A wandrin' wandrin' star
Ditto #426
If we are not regularly deeply embarrassed by who we are, the journey to self-knowledge hasn’t begun.
--Alain de Botton
19 dezembro, 2019
17 dezembro, 2019
Subscrever:
Mensagens (Atom)