Fleabag

12.

Penso no que de parte pus
no que afastei de sobras, desperdícios, peles,
cordas, colas, pregos, pragas,
no dedo martelado

e sei agora
(ah, e quanto tempo passou
como a água da ponte
que vai a não sei onde!)
que o que de lado pus
era isso mesmo a ponte,
ponte para este concreto,
pobre mas definido,
sapato de quem o queira.

Pedro Tamen, in O Livro do Sapateiro, 2010

Don't put the blame on me

“And now you are
and I am
and we're a mystery
which will never happen again.”

Now All the Fingers of This Tree by e.e. cummings

About time

“There's never been a true war that wasn't fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right. The really dangerous people believe they are doing whatever they are doing solely and only because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous.” 

Neil Gaiman, American Gods

 

“New tastes are like new ideas, young man - the older you get, the more difficult they are for you to stomach.”

Brandon Sanderson, The Final Empire

Completas

A meu favor tenho o teu olhar

testemunhando por mim
perante juízes terríveis:
a morte, os amigos, os inimigos.

E aqueles que me assaltam
à noite na solidão do quarto
refugiam-se em fundos sítios dentro de mim
quando de manhã o teu olhar ilumina o quarto.

Protege-me com ele, com o teu olhar,
dos demónios da noite e das aflições do dia,
fala em voz alta, não deixes que adormeça,
afasta de mim o pecado da infelicidade.

Manuel António Pina

Little ice dragon

 "Estendido o Crisóstomo sobre a cama, via nele a Isaura uma beleza indescritível. A imensidão, pensava, a imensidão de um homem, como hábil alastrando por todas as evidências, todas as manifestações, todos os instintos dela. Cada ínfimo segundo tornava-se um efeito da existência dele, cada ímpeto era sempre a direcção do caminho para chegar a ele."

Valter Hugo Mãe, O filho de mil homens

And the days are not full enough

And the days are not full enough

And the nights are not full enough 

And life slips by like a field mouse 

 Not shaking the grass.

Ezra Pound

"I'm Trevor fucking Belmont, and I've never lost a fight to man, nor fucking beast!"

 "and if the devil was to ever see you,
he'd kiss your eyes and repent"

Farouq Jwaydeh

No one

 

"People keep talking, they can say what they like

But all I know is everything's gonna be alright"

Wakanda Forever!

Chadwick Boseman

Não me perguntes, porque nada sei
Da vida,
Nem do amor,
Nem de Deus,
Nem da morte.
Vivo,
Amo,
Acredito sem crer,
E morro, antecipadamente
Ressuscitando.
O resto são palavras
Que decorei
De tanto as ouvir.
E a palavra
É o orgulho do silêncio envergonhado.
Num tempo de ponteiros, agendado,
Sem nada perguntar,
Vê, sem tempo, o que vês
Acontecer.
E na minha mudez
Aprende a adivinhar
O que de mim não possas entender.

Miguel Torga

"A truth that's told with bad intent

Beats all the Lies you can invent."

William Blake

As I walked out one evening

W. H. Auden

"To be in love - always bad enough, unless kisses match imagined kisses."

Doris Lessing, Love, again

You will never know

"How odd girls are!"

A Room with a View, Forster

Wakanda forever!

Matthew's the man!

"[...] everyone's hearts breaks for love at some time in their lives."

Doris Lessing, Love, Again

Okay, everybody get down if you feel me

Reluctance

The Mandelbrot set

Who knew math could be beautiful

Sabbath's Theater, Philip Roth

Poema XX

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.

Escribir, por ejemplo: "La noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos".

El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.

En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.

Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.

Oir la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.

Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.
La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo.

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.

De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Aunque éste sea el último dolor que ella me causa,
y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

Pablo Neruda

That kind of woman

On Loss

Sabbath's Theater, Philip Roth

Too lost

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop

Gosto muito de você, leãozinho

Arrastando o meu olhar como um ímã

"At last, we meet as strangers."

Dune, Frank Herbert

And Polly is never wrong about matters of the heart

"And I'm twice the man you are"

Peaky Blinders

O poema ensina a cair

Filipa Leal

For the hoard!

Love's secret

Never seek to tell thy love,  

Love that never told can be;  

For the gentle wind doth move  

Silently, invisibly.  

[...]

William Blake

Addicted

 Lost in your eyes, drowning in blue

Tríptico

II
Não sei como dizer-te que minha voz te procura
e a atenção começa a florir, quando sucede a noite
esplêndida e vasta.
Não sei o que dizer, quando longamente teus pulsos
se enchem de um brilho precioso
e estremeces como um pensamento chegado. Quando,
iniciado o campo, o centeio imaturo ondula tocado
pelo pressentir de um tempo distante,
e na terra crescida os homens entoam a vindima
– eu não sei como dizer-te que cem ideias,
dentro de mim, te procuram.
[...]

Herberto Helder

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind

 Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control

Interrogação

Não sei se isto é amor. Procuro o teu olhar,
Se alguma dor me fere, em busca de um abrigo;
E apesar disso, crê! nunca pensei num lar
Onde fosses feliz, e eu feliz contigo.

Por ti nunca chorei nenhum ideal desfeito.
E nunca te escrevi nenhuns versos românticos.
Nem depois de acordar te procurei no leito
Como a esposa sensual do Cântico dos Cânticos.

Se é amar-te não sei. Não sei se te idealizo
A tua cor sadia, o teu sorriso terno...
Mas sinto-me sorrir de ver esse sorriso
Que me penetra bem, como este sol de Inverno.

Passo contigo a tarde e sempre sem receio
Da luz crepuscular, que enerva, que provoca.
Eu não demoro o olhar na curva do teu seio
Nem me lembrei jamais de te beijar na boca.

Eu não sei se é amor. Será talvez começo...
Eu não sei que mudança a minha alma pressente...
Amor não sei se o é, mas sei que te estremeço,
Que adoecia talvez de te saber doente.

Camilo Pessanha

Passos

Escutaste os passos
no quarto
semiescurecido
pela tua derrota?

Não eram teus,
mas do que amaste:

os passos
do que esqueces.

Luís Quintais, Arrancer penas a um canto de cisne

But if I lack love then I am nothin' at all

Let me be patient let me be kind
Make me unselfish without being blind
Though I may suffer I'll envy it not
And endure what comes
'Cause he's all that I got and tell him

Maturity

"We might define maturity as the ability to give everyone what they deserve when they deserve it, to separate the emotions that belong and should be restricted to oneself from those that should at once be expressed to their initiators rather than passed on to later and more innocent arrivals. 

We were often not mature."

Alain de Botton, Essays in Love

Mrs Cold

Okay, I get it
Okay, I see
You feel vulnerable around me
You wanted nobody around to see
You feel vulnerable around me
Hey baby
What is love?
And what's just a game
We're both playing and we can't get enough of

Though the danger was greater

"Love felt and returned, love which our bodies exact and our hearts have transfigured, love which is the most real thing that we shall ever meet, reappeared now as the world's enemy, and she must stifle it.

She sent for Miss Bartlett.

The contest lay not between love and duty. Perhaps there never is such a contest. It lay between the real and the pretended, and Lucy's first aim was to defeat herself."

A Room with a View, E. M. Forster

And I could lie, say I like it like that

Don't you know too much already?
I'll only hurt you if you let me 
Call me friend, but keep me closer 
And I'll call you when the party's over

And we are weak

Middlemarch, George Elliot

Lone Digger

The Clod and the Pebble

‘Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.’

So sung a little Clod of Clay
Trodden with the cattle’s feet,
But a Pebble of the brook
Warbled out these meters meet:

‘Love seeketh only self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another’s loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heaven’s despite.’

William Blake, Songs of Experience

Before La La Land there was Blue Valentine

And I'm dancing, again, with a little bit of yoga too. Um "jogo perigoso", como diz a C.

I was on fire

The Terraces of Meudon

The air is still: on endlessly far slopes
The city extends in blond and rosy light -
I'm drawn to sounds of mirth and chatty tropes:
A young man kisses a face sweet and white.

Looking down, beds fixed and severe I see:
A stark autumn garden round a basin lies.
Looking up: a dome, full of tombs and history,
Like an observatory above the treetops flies.

A stone flight of steps that crumbles yet survives
Makes me pause in melancholy thought -
For lifeless things may still have longer lives
Than we who've grown and fade and come to nought.

Albert Verwey, 100 Dutch-Language Poems
Translated from the Dutch by Paul Vincent and John Irons

Quiero calmar esta sed

Takeshi Kovacs and Kristin Ortega

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBxGPhXFnjc

           "O me, O me, what frugal cheer

            My love doth feed upon!

          A touch, a ray, that is not here,

            A shadow that is gone:

         A dream of breath that might be near,

            An inly-echoed tone,

          The thought that one may think me dear,

            The place where one was known,

        

 The tremor of a banished fear,

            An ill that was not done--

          O me, O me, what frugal cheer

            My love doth feed upon!"

George Elliot

Kiss me

Thrice happy she that is so well assured

Thrice happy she that is so well assured
Unto herself, and settled so in heart,
That neither will for better be allured,
Ne feared with worse to any chance to start;
But, like a steady ship, doth strongly part        
The raging waves, and keeps her course aright;
Ne aught for tempest doth from it depart,
Ne aught for fairer weather’s false delight.
Such self-assurance need not fear the spight
Of grudging foes, ne favour seek of friends:        
But, in the stay of her own steadfast might,
Neither to one herself nor other bends.
  Most happy she, that most assur’d doth rest;
  But he most happy, who such one loves best.

Edmund Spenser

It won't do

I know your name, 
I know your skin, 
I know the way 
These things begin

The Good-Morrow

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?
But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers’ den?
’Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love, all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,
Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres,
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

John Donne

“Amor y deseo son dos cosas diferentes; que no todo lo que se ama se desea, ni todo lo que se desea se ama.”

Miguel de Cervantes

I think about you

I oughta be sleepin'

"If you made her smile she would show you perfect little teeth; if you made her angry, she would not raise her voice, but would probably say one of the bitterest things you have ever tasted the flavour of; if you did her a kindness, she would never forget it."

George Elliot, Middlemarch

What I want, you've got

What I want, you've got 

And it might be hard to handle 

But like the flame that burns the candle 

The candle feeds the flame, yeah yeah

Woman! when I behold thee flippant, vain

Woman! when I behold thee flippant, vain,
Inconstant, childish, proud, and full of fancies;
Without that modest softening that enhances
The downcast eye, repentant of the pain
That its mild light creates to heal again:
E’en then, elate, my spirit leaps, and prances,
E’en then my soul with exultation dances
For that to love, so long, I’ve dormant lain:
But when I see thee meek, and kind, and tender,
Heavens! how desperately do I adore
Thy winning graces;—to be thy defender
I hotly burn—to be a Calidore—
A very Red Cross Knight—a stout Leander—
Might I be loved by thee like these of yore.

Light feet, dark violet eyes, and parted hair;
Soft dimpled hands, white neck, and creamy breast,
Are things on which the dazzled senses rest
Till the fond, fixed eyes, forget they stare.
From such fine pictures, heavens! I cannot dare
To turn my admiration, though unpossess’d
They be of what is worthy,—though not drest
In lovely modesty, and virtues rare.
Yet these I leave as thoughtless as a lark;
These lures I straight forget—e’en ere I dine,
Or thrice my palate moisten: but when I mark
Such charms with mild intelligences shine,
My ear is open like a greedy shark,
To catch the tunings of a voice divine.

Ah! who can e’er forget so fair a being?
Who can forget her half retiring sweets?
God! she is like a milk-white lamb that bleats
For man’s protection. Surely the All-seeing,
Who joys to see us with his gifts agreeing,
Will never give him pinions, who intreats
Such innocence to ruin,—who vilely cheats
A dove-like bosom. In truth there is no freeing
One’s thoughts from such a beauty; when I hear
A lay that once I saw her hand awake,
Her form seems floating palpable, and near;
Had I e’er seen her from an arbour take
A dewy flower, oft would that hand appear,
And o’er my eyes the trembling moisture shake.

John Keats
(Some coincidences are dangerous)

Personality disorder (silver linings)

No silêncio dos olhos

Em que língua se diz, em que nação,
Em que outra humanidade se aprendeu
A palavra que ordene a confusão
Que neste remoinho se teceu?
Que murmúrio de vento, que dourados
Cantos de ave pousada em altos ramos
Dirão, em som, as coisas que, calados,
No silêncio dos olhos confessamos?

José Saramago, Os Poemas Possíveis

We're in the dark, it's getting late

Soneto à maneira de Camões

Esperança e desespero de alimento
Me servem neste dia em que te espero
E já não sei se quero ou se não quero
Tão longe de razões é meu tormento.

Mas como usar amor de entendimento?
Daquilo que te peço desespero
Ainda que mo dês - pois o que eu quero
Ninguém o dá senão por um momento.

Mas como és belo, amor, de não durares,
De ser tão breve e fundo o teu engano,
E de eu te possuir sem tu te dares.

Amor perfeito dado a um ser humano:
Também morre o florir de mil pomares
E se quebram as ondas no oceano.

Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen

'Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do

On the art of flirting too

"I will not profess bravery [...] but I acknowledge a good deal of pleasure in fighting"

George Elliot (Mary Ann Evans), Middlemarch

Menina-mulher

Promise (Losing You Was)

Sometimes being open to new things, including new friends, brings a load of fresh relaxed coconuts into your life :) 

Mr. Anderson

Cold, cold heart

Quando eu partir

O mês passado fizeste anos, parabéns querido! Pergunto-me se encontraste esta casa, ou se alguém mais sabe que a procuravas.
Obrigada por me teres ensinado também a perda.

Love is a bitch

Venture into the unknown

"It takes a lot of courage to fight biases and oppressive regimes, but it takes even greater courage to admit ignorance and venture into the unknown. Secular education teaches us that if we don’t know something, we shouldn’t be afraid of acknowledging our ignorance and looking for new evidence. Even if we think we know something, we shouldn’t be afraid of doubting our opinions and checking ourselves again. Many people are afraid of the unknown, and want clear-cut answers for every question. Fear of the unknown can paralyse us more than any tyrant. People throughout history worried that unless we put all our faith in some set of absolute answers, human society will crumble. In fact, modern history has demonstrated that a society of courageous people willing to admit ignorance and raise difficult questions is usually not just more prosperous but also more peaceful than societies in which everyone must unquestioningly accept a single answer. People afraid of losing their truth tend to be more violent than people who are used to looking at the world from several different viewpoints. Questions you cannot answer are usually far better for you than answers you cannot question."

Yuval Harari,  21 Lessons for the 21st Century

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Living in times of Corona virus

24.
partir em viagem?
fico em casa
na companhia das flores de cerejeira

Yosa Buson

Like the end of an era

"You don't shit where you eat. And you really don't shit where I eat."

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know. 
His house is in the village though; 
He will not see me stopping here 
To watch his woods fill up with snow. 

My little horse must think it queer 
To stop without a farmhouse near 
Between the woods and frozen lake 
The darkest evening of the year. 

He gives his harness bells a shake 
To ask if there is some mistake. 
The only other sound’s the sweep 
Of easy wind and downy flake. 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, 
But I have promises to keep, 
And miles to go before I sleep, 
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost

"... Precisamente porque o amei, amei-o tanto que agora amo o meu antigo amor por ele..."

Lev Tolstói, Anna Karénina

Creating worlds is fun