tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-285909522024-03-13T02:32:11.869+00:00um outro algarvevisões e apontamentos sobre esta terra dos SSS, do SUL, SAL e SOL....Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-63538987601258410842009-10-23T14:46:00.004+01:002009-10-23T14:56:00.592+01:00castanheiros<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/SuG0KVNb0hI/AAAAAAAAAP0/v7K9Ny5UOiA/s1600-h/monchique+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/SuG0KVNb0hI/AAAAAAAAAP0/v7K9Ny5UOiA/s400/monchique+001.JPG" vr="true" /></span></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #eeeeee;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>.... Ó castanheiros de folhas de ouro, </strong></span></span><br />
</div><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Carregados de ouriços que são ninhos</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Onde as castanhas dormem como noivos! .....</strong></span><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial;">Branquinho da Fonseca</span></strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-83829486186903245762007-06-21T15:45:00.000+01:002008-11-14T01:09:22.769+00:00A vila ao por - de -sol<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/RnqPlaXSkXI/AAAAAAAAAII/hoRqTzW3MVA/s1600-h/2007_02170001.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078529402708595058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/RnqPlaXSkXI/AAAAAAAAAII/hoRqTzW3MVA/s400/2007_02170001.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-40163263495123367982007-06-21T14:50:00.000+01:002007-06-21T15:42:31.890+01:00Cosmologia íntima<span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">É certo que olhando para o sol directo</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">os olhos se turvam chorosos e cegos</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">e assim não podemos ver as estrelas</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">que brilham no céu povoando o universo</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Mas é com lágrimas de emoção nos olhos</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">que melhor te vejo e sinto o teu fulgor,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">porque é dentro de mim que tu iluminas</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">o firmamento da noite que trago comigo,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">que é tão profundo como o infinito</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">em que brilhasse qpenas uma única estrela</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">equivalente no cosmos a mil milhões de sóis.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> <span style="color:#cccccc;">Manuel Madeira in "um pouco de infinito em toda a parte"</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-70873336470556113132007-04-29T20:54:00.000+01:002008-11-14T01:09:22.986+00:00ao fim do dia - Três irmãos<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/RjT4vKe_xOI/AAAAAAAAAGw/5NasmkPv-UI/s1600-h/Alvor+018.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058941770595812578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/RjT4vKe_xOI/AAAAAAAAAGw/5NasmkPv-UI/s400/Alvor+018.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-30847330866761264582007-03-26T12:44:00.000+01:002008-11-14T01:09:23.213+00:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/RgeyiNTr5WI/AAAAAAAAAF4/D0TQ73RbSDo/s1600-h/imagens+messines+008.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5046198208249455970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/RgeyiNTr5WI/AAAAAAAAAF4/D0TQ73RbSDo/s400/imagens+messines+008.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-2785566298713447062007-03-16T16:33:00.000+00:002007-03-16T16:36:19.302+00:00ao sol<span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Gravo o eco do teu encanto</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">que está guardado no rio misterioso</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">onde o meu corpo se dilui no teu... barco, comboio, casa</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">num livro com todas as palavras ... miradouro, horizonte, saudade</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Rui A. Pereira</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-39663818333926415352007-03-14T12:49:00.000+00:002008-11-14T01:09:23.461+00:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/Rffw_C7-d8I/AAAAAAAAAFY/7Eieo7Imx28/s1600-h/Imagem+084.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041763273775413186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/Rffw_C7-d8I/AAAAAAAAAFY/7Eieo7Imx28/s400/Imagem+084.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/Rffw_S7-d9I/AAAAAAAAAFg/1wrpRLST030/s1600-h/Imagem+085.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041763278070380498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/Rffw_S7-d9I/AAAAAAAAAFg/1wrpRLST030/s400/Imagem+085.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-9134579416720585252007-03-14T12:34:00.000+00:002007-06-28T17:25:55.380+01:00Tudo nos pertence<span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">O mar da península</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">com suas imagens</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">quebrado nas dunas</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">antes dos naufrágios,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">o vento Árctico</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">nos dedos mais ágeis,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">os jardins suspensos</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">imensos e frágeis.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Tudo nos pertence </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">quando somos jovens.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#cccccc;">José Carlos Barros</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-52377046656179705212007-02-18T20:37:00.000+00:002008-11-14T01:09:23.750+00:001891<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/Rdi5e3zMXjI/AAAAAAAAACU/wb9B2K6hwWg/s1600-h/2007_02110052.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5032976523612413490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/Rdi5e3zMXjI/AAAAAAAAACU/wb9B2K6hwWg/s400/2007_02110052.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-46902856908025629262007-01-30T21:55:00.000+00:002008-11-14T01:09:23.863+00:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/Rb-_djweftI/AAAAAAAAABw/YEho8-1Vu0Q/s1600-h/IM002476.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025946223704440530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dEUbwvi6y6E/Rb-_djweftI/AAAAAAAAABw/YEho8-1Vu0Q/s400/IM002476.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1168605527598399232007-01-12T12:22:00.000+00:002007-01-12T15:09:53.303+00:00<span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Murado de cerros a norte como quem se acautela de perigos,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">dá costas ao alentejo e vais descendo rumo ao mar.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">A eterna atracção da água...</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">A descida, primeiro agreste, violenta, por escarpas profundas, suaviza mais para baixo, ondulando por colinas e vales até deslizar languidamente quando a vista o Oceano. A maior, a eterna paixão.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Pelo caminho escorrem cheiros e cores. Das estevas, das acácias, dos aloendros. Ficam campos baldios, de secura, de poeira, de pedra.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Ficam campos de laranja, de figo, de amêndoa - linda outrora tanta.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Ficam serranos. Olhar escorrendo cerros abaixo. O apelo do mar.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">No algarve não se olha para Norte.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Do mar lhe vêm as lendas, sortilégios, lembranças </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">de grandeza. No mar se jogou sempre o futuro.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">A Barlavento onde se acoitavam marinheiros de </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">conquistas, a paixão é violenta. Tensões.Escarpada,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">a costa não deixa perceber se é ele, o mar, quem se</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">protege de intrusos se o Algarve que teme aquela àgua.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Os encontros são em espaços intímos, quase escondidos,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">no recorte da falésia.como se fosse envergonhado amor</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">A aprendizagem da serenidade vem ao estender-se a Sotavento,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">espreguiçando-se louro até ao Guadiana,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">muralha extrema, sugerindo que o algarve quer para si todo o mar.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Entre o Oceano e Serra. Areia e sol.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Pintando de azul mar e oiro.Moreno de alma.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Gente de Sal e arado.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Olhos na vida.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">A SUL</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1168280463818784142007-01-08T17:35:00.000+00:002007-01-12T12:22:44.280+00:00<div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8166/3030/1600/812674/Beiral%20em%20contraluz.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/8166/3030/400/303415/Beiral%20em%20contraluz.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center">Foto de Hélia Coelho</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1164502853350458002006-11-26T00:53:00.000+00:002006-11-26T01:00:53.363+00:00as quatro estaçoes :o outono<span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">... não sei, no entanto, que estação é esta </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">na alma. Talvez uma indecisa nostalgia</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">provoque o regresso das tardes solitárias </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">de frio e chuva; e um luto de sol</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">se instale na superficie dos dedos, impedindo o curso do verso. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">É como se abrisse a janela, e me debruçasse para um lago</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">de névoa, onde apenas se ouvisse o ruído</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">monótono dos remos na incansável tarefa;</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">e uma voz me chamasse de dentro, distraindo-me</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">desse tempo que se aproxima, com o declínio das aves,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">com a lucidez nos lábios,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">e um sentimento que insiste,sem se ver.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#c0c0c0;">Nuno Júdice</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1163886431772054572006-11-18T21:40:00.000+00:002006-11-18T21:47:11.796+00:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM002465.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM002465.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM002461.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM002461.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM002462.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM002462.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Fotos : hélia coelhoAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1163611006469645642006-11-15T17:08:00.000+00:002006-11-15T17:19:34.813+00:00Moiras num jardim ao anoitecer<span style="font-family:verdana;">Páro num largo ajardinado onde há um busto de bronze.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Entardece. No ar afogueado, as flores recortam-se nítidas e coloridas. Por um instante os ruidos cessam.Sequer o motor de um carro ao longe.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Suspensa, a vila inquieta-se na luz magoada e doce da noite que desce.Passam por mim mulheres sem nome, nem vida que eu conheça.Passam fugazes, leves, e nem lhes oiço o rumor do passo.Apenas corpos delgados, rostos de olhos negros, profundos.O mistério adensa-se com o cair da noite.Vem-me à lembrança a lenda das moiras encantadas, que ouvi quando jovem:longíqua e veemente, ressoa ainda a voz que implora de amor junto à cisterna:</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">- Cássima!...</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><em>Manuel da Fonseca in Crónicas Algarvias</em></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1162858670984756192006-11-07T00:14:00.000+00:002006-11-07T10:39:56.543+00:00as árvores morrem em pé...<div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM002278.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM002278.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM002281.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM002281.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM002279.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM002279.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> Fotos : Hélia Coelho</span> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1160167422896845932006-10-06T21:40:00.000+01:002006-10-06T21:53:47.660+01:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM001872.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM001872.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM001875.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM001875.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM001873.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM001873.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Foto: Hélia CoelhoAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1160155791605365742006-10-06T18:16:00.000+01:002006-10-06T21:40:26.870+01:00sul<span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">tudo, ali, é simples e complexo: a luz,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">a solidão, o olhar que se comove com o cair</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">da noite e com o nascer do dia;e, até,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">os risos de mulheres que se ouvem desde longe,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">trazidos pelo ar cuja transparência se sente </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">na própria respiração.No entando, debruço-me</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">da varanda e dou por que algo se oculta,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">para além dos muros e dos quintais, e chama</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">por mim sem que eu possa responder. Então, </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">volto para dentro; preparo o café; e</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">enquanto a água ferve o mistério desaparece,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">inútil e excessivo, no início da tarde</span><br /><span style="color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="color:#cccccc;">Nuno Júdice</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1155119801567325552006-08-09T11:25:00.000+01:002006-08-11T11:16:08.033+01:00<div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM001999.3.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM001999.2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM002015.1.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM002015.1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /> Foto: hélia coelho</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1155117263056216742006-08-09T10:41:00.000+01:002006-08-09T11:22:13.450+01:00esse ... de sagres<span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Eis – piaram-me as aves – o abismo sagrado!</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">E esvoaçaram lendas, inventadas na hora,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">que falam de luas e poentes a namorar num solstício,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">e dum vento insólito capaz de se deter no tempo exacto </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">de um beijo.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Vim em busca de outros segredos feiticeiros </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">e encontro-os impressos na falésia.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">São grafitti de mar na demora do tempo. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Dizem-me que na nervura das marés</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">se escutam cantos berberes encostando o ouvido às rochas. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">E contam histórias de outros antigos guerreiros</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">que apenas tinham por bandeira </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">o livre caminhar.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Todos pararam aqui.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">São claras as marcas </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">de um clã-destino convertido aos amores proibidos.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Encho o peito, </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">telúrico, </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">e sinto que a terra acaba ali. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Solto o olhar ao fio do horizonte</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">e sou tentado a ir com ele.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">O perigo, são mesmo as sereias. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">A melopeia encantatória atrai-nos ao abismo.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Deixou assim escrito na pedra, </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">um poeta peregrino que pensava ter chegado a Ítaca.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">E o abismo é sagrado.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#cccccc;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Gregório Salvaterra. Contador de gaivotas e poeta público (*)</span>,<a href="http://contador.blogspot.com"><span style="font-family:arial;">nesta paragem</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span><span style="color:#ccccff;"></span></span></strong><br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />(versão em inglês por Jill Gerrich)</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Look – the birds call to me – the sacred abyss!</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">And they flutter and flap fables, </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">invented on the spot, </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">telling about moons and sunsets loving each other at a solstice, </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">and an extraordinary wind which can stop just in the time it takes</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">for a kiss.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">I came in search of other bewitching secrets and I find them imprinted on the cliff. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">They are the sea’s grafitti with the passage of time.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">They tell me that Berber songs can be heard amongst the crashes of the waves by pressing one’s ear to the rocks. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">And they tell stories about other ancient warriors who only had to place the flag to walk free.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">All had stopped here.The marks of a secret convert to forbidden loves are clear.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">I inhale deeply, telluric, and feel that Earth ends there. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">I shoot a glance at the line of the horizon and I am tempted to follow it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">The mermaids are the real danger. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Their enchanting music draws us towards the abyss.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">A pilgrim poet who thought he had arrived at Ithaca left this written on the stone.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#cccccc;">And the abyss is sacred.<br />---------------- (*) -------------------<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Este texto foi publicado em 15 de Novembro de 2003, na revista Golfe a Sul (Dossiers Especiais ), suplemento do semanário EXPRESSO.</span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1154519632602911632006-08-02T12:42:00.000+01:002006-08-02T12:53:52.613+01:00<div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM001995a.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM001995a.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM001994.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM001994.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/1600/IM001994a.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8166/3030/400/IM001994a.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /> fotos : hélia coelho</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1154518949178223112006-08-02T12:39:00.000+01:002006-08-02T12:42:29.200+01:00muito azul<span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">não sei as horas, porém as pessoas</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">ou as aves, não se ouvem</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">atiro lentamente pedras</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">contra luz</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">olho o mar </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">muito azul.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">entreabro as mãos</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">escorre a caruma apanhada ao acaso.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cccccc;">Daniel Maia-Pinto Rodrigues</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1151015194830839942006-06-22T23:23:00.000+01:002006-06-22T23:26:35.226+01:00<div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1349/1107/1600/IM001870.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1349/1107/400/IM001870.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"> foto: Hélia Coelho<br /></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1150730213593742282006-06-19T16:02:00.000+01:002006-06-19T22:31:53.596+01:00as cores da minha infância<span style="color:#ccccff;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">São</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">brancos tons de candura</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">azuis de céu e mar</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">em paredes de pedra e cal aquecidas pelo sol</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">verdes frondosos e frescos de choupos e fetos reais</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">sugando correntes de ribeiras transparentes.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">São</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">castanhos avermelhados em grés</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">laranjas crepusculares</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">desta terra de barro com odores intensos</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">de laranjeira em início de primavera</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">São</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">bejes de fim de ceifa</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">pó de farinha trigo moído</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">ramos secos de esteva ateados</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">em fornos de pão arduamente amassado.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Roxos de rosmaninho lilazes</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">confundidos entre amarelos fogo </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">de azedas em terrenos férteis...</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">São</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">secos verdes pegajosos</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">tons de rosa forte de estevão firme </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">no árido cinzento dos xistos.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">são</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">multicolores de ouro e prata</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">brilho de taliscas talhadas</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">que se erguem nos montes até ao limite dos céus</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">as cores da minha infância</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">avisto-as nesta serra íngreme e profunda</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">numa dualidade de esquecimento</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">e vivamente com vida.</span><br /><br />hjnc</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28590952.post-1150584056486700442006-06-17T23:39:00.000+01:002006-06-17T23:40:56.496+01:00<div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1349/1107/1600/de%20cinza%20a%20vida.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1349/1107/400/de%20cinza%20a%20vida.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ccccff;">Foto : Hélia Coelho</span><br /> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00267181269009500034noreply@blogger.com1