Angústia breve

(Foto: celine)

"Só quando a angústia florir

o esquecimento será

o jardim onde guardá-la."

(Folhas Breves, Luísa Freire)

 Poesia, em qualquer dia.

(Foto: celine)

 Lanterns for Emily

(Fotos e edição: celine)

"(...)

I cannot tell you how we moved. I had rather not remember. I believe my "effects" were brough tin a bandbox, and the "deathless me", on foot, not many moments after. I took at the time a memorandum of my several senses, and also of my hat and coat and my best shoes - but it was lost in the melee, and I am out with lanterns, looking for myself."

(Letter from Emily Dickinson to Elizabeth Holland [1856])

 

 In memory...

(Foto: celine)

(In memory of a friend who passed away unexpectedly.)

"(...)

And how beguile you? Death has no repose

- Warmer and deeper than that Orient sand

Which hides the beauty and bright faith of those

- Who made the Golden Journey to Samarkand.

And now they wait and whiten peaceably,

- Those conquerors, those poets, those so fair:

They know time comes, not only you and I,

- But the whole world shall whiten, here or there;

When those long caravans that cross the plain

- With dauntless feet and sound of silver bells

Put forth no more for glory or for gain,

- Take no more solace from the palm-girt wells.

When the great markets by the sea shut fast

- All that calm Sunday that goes on and on:

When even lovers find their peace at last

- And Earth is but a star, that once had shone.

(...)".

(Excerpt from the poem "The Golden Journey to Samarkand", by James Elroy Flecker)  

 NEW YEAR

(Foto: celine)

"(...)

THE PILGRIMS

We are the Pilgrims, master: we shall go

- Always a little further: it may be

Beyond that last blue mountain barred with snow,

- Across that angry or that glimmering sea,

White on a throne or guarded in a cave

- There lives a prophet who can understand

Why men were born: but surely are brave,

- Who make The Golden Journey to Samarkand.

(...)"

(excerto do poema "The Golden Journey to Samarkand" de James Elroy Flecker)

(Foto e edição: celine)

"(...)

Um monte alto de musgo

era uma sombra

era um deus

sombrio deus de dezembro?"

(Excerto de "E veio Dezembro. Natal de Oitenta e Oito", de João Miguel Fernandes Jorge)

 

FAREWELL AUTUMN!