Blog de literatura e eventos transbrasileiros de Deborah Kietzmann Goldemberg
quarta-feira, 10 de setembro de 2008
Icamiaba Paulistana
5 comentários:
Anônimo
disse...
Soneto da separação
De repente do riso fez-se o pranto Silencioso e branco como a bruma E das bocas unidas fez-se a espuma E das mãos espalmadas fez-se o espanto. De repente da calma fez-se o vento Que dos olhos desfez a última chama E da paixão fez-se o pressentimento E do momento imóvel fez-se o drama.
De repente, não mais que de repente Fez-se de triste o que se fez amante E de sozinho o que se fez contente.
Fez-se do amigo próximo o distante Fez-se da vida uma aventura errante De repente, não mais que de repente.
Esta é uma fotografia bonita. A princesa das Amazonas em sua glória de pedra, como a deusa Isis dos egípcios ou de um tigress bonito. Como podem os americanos competir com somente seu Catwoman :-)?Um gato do amor como a canção da cura
We move like cagey tigers We couldn't get closer than this The way we walk The way we talk The way we stalk The way we kiss
We slip through the streets While everyone sleeps Getting bigger and sleeker And wider and brighter We bite and scratch and scream all night Let's go and Throw all the songs we know
Into the sea You and me All these years and no one heard I'll show you in spring It's a treacherous thing We missed you hissed the lovecats
(Ba ba-da...da da da da da...)
We're so wonderfully wonderfully wonderfully Wonderfully pretty Oh you know that I'd do anything for you We should have each other to tea huh? We should have each other with cream Then curl up by the fire And sleep for awhile It's the grooviest thing It's the perfect dream
Hand in hand Is the only way to land And always the right way round Not broken in pieces Like hated little meeces How could we miss Someone as dumb as this
I love you ... let's go -solid gone - How could you miss someone as dumbo as this?
Queridissima Xena das Amazonas.... Melhor a guerreira....
Roxane You don't have to put on the red light Those days are over You don't have to sell your body to the night RoxanneYou don't have to wear that dress tonight Walk the streets for money You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right I loved you since I knew youI wouldn't talk down to you I have to tell you just how I feelI won't share you with another boy I know my mind is made up So put away your make up Told you once I won't tell you again It's a bad way
“The Scythian heroine, sits mounted, a warrior before her maids, Plumes flowing from her helmet, skirt tucked high, her stallion tossing gold and purple tassels, Hooves stamping on the muddy ground beneath. For one long moment with a pensive gaze, she stares into the ranks, void of expression, As if they stood before her carved in stone, Until her glance meets that of Peleus' son: A darkened flush spreads down unto her neck, blood sets her face aglow as if the world Surrounding her were leaping into flames, then, with a sudden jolt, she swings herself, Throwing a darker look upon Achilles and steps Down from her horse, leaves the reins with a groom, and inquires What brings us to her. I say; great benefit Would be our joint reward if we were friends, But notice in the flow of talking, she doesn't hear a word. Instead, she turns and with a look of utter wonderment, suddenly like a girl, a sixteen-year-old girl on her way back from the Festival, she whispers to her companion by her side: Oh Prothoë, I do not think I ever laid eyes on such a man! The friend, embarrassed at these words, stays silent, While she herself stands gazing, as if drunk With admiration, at the glittering figure of Achilles: Whether from rage or shame, another blush Stains her armour crimson to the waist, She turns, confusion, wildness, pride Commingling on her face, and says: And you shall have my arrows for reply!”
A Cabangem ... tal vez o proximo romance a guerra de Constestado, de paraíso... ? Com a virgem Maria Rosa, montada em seu cavalo, uma espada na cinta e uma espingarda na sela. Muitas flores nos cabelos, um longo vestido branco, até os pés. Seu cavalo era branco, com arreios de veludo. Tinha apenas quinze anos. Ela liderou as tropas contra os soldados de Santa Catarina .... A violência explodiu no Contestado qunado a virgem Maria Rosa mandou "limpar" as cidades vizinhas a fim de purificar o ambiente para a volta do "monge"...
5 comentários:
Soneto da separação
De repente do riso fez-se o pranto
Silencioso e branco como a bruma
E das bocas unidas fez-se a espuma
E das mãos espalmadas fez-se o espanto.
De repente da calma fez-se o vento
Que dos olhos desfez a última chama
E da paixão fez-se o pressentimento
E do momento imóvel fez-se o drama.
De repente, não mais que de repente
Fez-se de triste o que se fez amante
E de sozinho o que se fez contente.
Fez-se do amigo próximo o distante
Fez-se da vida uma aventura errante
De repente, não mais que de repente.
Vinícius de Moraes
Esta é uma fotografia bonita. A princesa das Amazonas em sua glória de pedra, como a deusa Isis dos egípcios ou de um tigress bonito. Como podem os americanos competir com somente seu Catwoman :-)?Um gato do amor como a canção da cura
We move like cagey tigers
We couldn't get closer than this
The way we walk
The way we talk
The way we stalk
The way we kiss
We slip through the streets
While everyone sleeps
Getting bigger and sleeker
And wider and brighter
We bite and scratch and scream all night
Let's go and
Throw all the songs we know
Into the sea
You and me
All these years and no one heard
I'll show you in spring
It's a treacherous thing
We missed you hissed the lovecats
(Ba ba-da...da da da da da...)
We're so wonderfully wonderfully wonderfully
Wonderfully pretty
Oh you know that I'd do anything for you
We should have each other to tea huh?
We should have each other with cream
Then curl up by the fire
And sleep for awhile
It's the grooviest thing
It's the perfect dream
Hand in hand
Is the only way to land
And always the right way round
Not broken in pieces
Like hated little meeces
How could we miss
Someone as dumb as this
I love you ... let's go
-solid gone -
How could you miss someone as dumbo as this?
Queridissima Xena das Amazonas.... Melhor a guerreira....
Roxane
You don't have to put on the red light
Those days are over
You don't have to sell your body to the night
RoxanneYou don't have to wear that dress tonight
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right
I loved you since I knew youI wouldn't talk down to you
I have to tell you just how I feelI won't share you with another boy
I know my mind is made up
So put away your make up
Told you once I won't tell you again
It's a bad way
“The Scythian heroine, sits mounted, a warrior before her maids,
Plumes flowing from her helmet, skirt tucked high, her stallion tossing gold and purple tassels,
Hooves stamping on the muddy ground beneath. For one long moment
with a pensive gaze, she stares into the ranks, void of expression,
As if they stood before her carved in stone, Until her glance meets that of Peleus' son:
A darkened flush spreads down unto her neck, blood sets her face aglow as if the world
Surrounding her were leaping into flames, then, with a sudden jolt, she swings herself,
Throwing a darker look upon Achilles and steps
Down from her horse, leaves
the reins with a groom, and inquires
What brings us to her. I say; great benefit
Would be our joint reward if we were friends,
But notice in the flow of talking, she doesn't hear a word. Instead,
she turns and with a look of utter wonderment,
suddenly like a girl, a sixteen-year-old girl on her way back from the Festival,
she whispers to her companion by her side:
Oh Prothoë, I do not think I ever laid eyes on such a man!
The friend, embarrassed at these words, stays silent,
While she herself stands gazing, as if drunk
With admiration, at the glittering figure of Achilles:
Whether from rage or shame, another blush
Stains her armour crimson to the waist,
She turns, confusion, wildness, pride
Commingling on her face, and says: And you shall have my arrows for reply!”
Kleist, Penthesilea
A Cabangem ... tal vez o proximo romance a guerra de Constestado, de paraíso... ? Com a virgem Maria Rosa, montada em seu cavalo, uma espada na cinta e uma espingarda na sela. Muitas flores nos cabelos, um longo vestido branco, até os pés. Seu cavalo era branco, com arreios de veludo. Tinha apenas quinze anos. Ela liderou as tropas contra os soldados de Santa Catarina .... A violência explodiu no Contestado qunado a virgem Maria Rosa mandou "limpar" as cidades vizinhas a fim de purificar o ambiente para a volta do "monge"...
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