<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="no"?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><rss xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" version="2.0"><channel><title>Assim falhou Zaratustra - O (eterno) Retorno</title><description>Um blog para todos e ninguém, muito além do bem e do mal. Pode conter falhas, mas isso é humano. Demasiado humano. Talvez esse blog e o próprio autor sejam uma obra de ficção.</description><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</managingEditor><pubDate>Thu, 22 Oct 2026 12:34:29 -0300</pubDate><generator>Blogger http://www.blogger.com</generator><openSearch:totalResults xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/">191</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/">1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/">25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/</link><language>en-us</language><itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit><itunes:subtitle>Um blog para todos e ninguém, muito além do bem e do mal. Pode conter falhas, mas isso é humano. Demasiado humano. Talvez esse blog e o próprio autor sejam uma obra de ficção.</itunes:subtitle><itunes:category text="Arts"><itunes:category text="Literature"/></itunes:category><itunes:category text="Society &amp; Culture"><itunes:category text="Philosophy"/></itunes:category><itunes:category text="News &amp; Politics"/><itunes:owner><itunes:email>noreply@blogger.com</itunes:email></itunes:owner><item><title>Times are gone for honest men</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2025/07/times-are-gone-for-honest-men.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Thu, 31 Jul 2025 23:29:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-8162512736896747105</guid><description>
  
    
  
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEij2tlbSQFwrbpAU8hMAoxIR4rRWHdclJRZIQcqw0sfWcwxSWU18ji9IGnWHraRZB7zCgQgXwN9Grm7XuU5FS4JgcE2ZG7qbs7p8jN2Z1MTwByM-3L1bKy8CnYaMnLbkOrOJKol0q7-cwEtfbGSaW2siAQV801Crse8S1YcCuvMgjXyh9XyuiFDUQ=s72-c" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>para doar</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2024/04/para-doar.html</link><category>perdoar forgive perdonare perdonar</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Wed, 3 Apr 2024 00:02:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-1894951488152412425</guid><description>Em inglês:To forgive = perdoar.For = paraGive= darEm italiano:Perdonare = perdoarPer= paraDonare = doar, darEm espanhol:PerdonarPer= paraDonar= doarEm português:PerdoarPer= paraDoar= doar, darOrigem etimológica:latim medieval perdonare"perdoar", in Dicionário Priberam da Língua Portuguesa [em linha], 2008-2024, https://dicionario.priberam.org/perdoar.Amar o próximo.&amp;nbsp;Doar-se.A vida é para se </description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Lonely Stranger</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2023/08/lonely-stranger.html</link><category>blues</category><category>Clapton</category><category>Clapton smoking</category><category>Eric Clapton</category><category>guitar</category><category>guitarra</category><category>Lonely Stranger</category><category>unplugged</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Tue, 15 Aug 2023 23:19:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-2358848691197682715</guid><description>&amp;nbsp;I must beInvisibleNo one knows meI have crawledDown dead-end streetsOn my hands and kneesI was bornWith a raging thirstA hunger to be freeBut I´ve learnedThrough the yearsDon´t encourage me´Cause I´m a lonely stranger hereWell beyond my dayAnd I don´t know what´s going onI´ll be on my wayYes, I willWhen I walkStay behindDon´t get close to me´Cause it´s sureTo end in tearsSo, just let me </description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXA5HdZXREfZ4sDaOXRh3ag4gnt9QRYzMvx5Wqi_NcltCoppN3H__LeUlmj8CUeuj2zZfjrCTCsAHKFKs6qhepx-KiZ2SslbQwG1RcpbLDbwmbDT3drppjJajfJvgMAgljaILZ7Qxa37ekuYD3CB7R1WVtGBBc5a7b_tNnh8wV9udVKKAKBb_wBQ/s72-c/Eric+Clapton+smoking.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">19</thr:total></item><item><title>Nunca confie em quem diz e usa a palavra "QUÃO"</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2023/08/nunca-confie-em-quem-diz-e-usa-palavra.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Tue, 15 Aug 2023 19:38:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-2617899671424466121</guid><description></description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Mas eu... eu sou apenas um homem</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2023/08/mas-eu-eu-sou-apenas-um-homem.html</link><category>Deus</category><category>Faith No More</category><category>Icarus</category><category>Just a Man</category><category>Mike Patton</category><category>tradução minha</category><category>Ícaro</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Mon, 7 Aug 2023 22:34:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-5980175197832756260</guid><description>
  
    
  
 &amp;nbsp;" Man was born to loveThough often he has sought&amp;nbsp;Like Icarus, to fly too high And far too lonely than he ought&amp;nbsp;To kiss the sun of east and west&amp;nbsp;And hold the world at his behest&amp;nbsp;To hold the terrible power&amp;nbsp;To whom only gods are blessed&amp;nbsp;But me, I am just a man"&amp;nbsp;"O homem nasceu para amar&amp;nbsp;Embora sói buscado tenhaComo Ícaro, voar muito mais </description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgG5X3yBeNsGQJDrm_A9PsTHnBZM20y4rIU1Mb9XQ2jEhFFzxNB5D28uZXvJrwXsNBea4pvNrq5koHB1_C55oSuYT7Auqx8cvBlLjrRUeBMfdoOMuciW3rYYy7g6cB01i_ZEX2S8WtrWD9TtiU-jjHjuAtaAat6e_eySo-ejrSaG0f874DQqvXvPA=s72-c" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>SIMPLE MAN - Lynyrd Skynyrd </title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2022/10/simple-man-lynyrd-skynyrd.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Tue, 25 Oct 2022 06:54:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-5206650314696942955</guid><description>
  
    
  
Mama told me when I was youngCome sit beside me my only sonAnd listen closely to what I sayAnd if you do this it'll help youSome sunny day oh yeahOh take your time don't live too fastTroubles will come and they will passGo find a woman yeah and you'll find loveAnd don't forget son there is someone up aboveAnd be a simple kind of manOh be something you love and understandBaby be a </description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq2UzrkS57Ijzu5Ha9Y_EyvRYSnThyphenhyphenXs-Ay6CNOe3O8Uvx2yUvnFeXcjmy8MbEJkdD0CXKGBG1c81Lp9x2NOSJDzc43ixmtXUJELqwCBmcMLJNMap1putq4BLI00X6bTYBicfi-w/s72-c/1666691646821845-0.png" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Apocalypse</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2022/02/apocalypse.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Fri, 18 Feb 2022 18:34:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-2596256038361679471</guid><description>Quanto mais incentivado o estilo de vida ostentação, a sensualidade como algo cotidiano e comum até para crianças, o caos na sociedade, o instinto básico animalesco e sem intelectualidade, mais Estado deve existir para coibir os excessos, os impulsos, a violência dali gerada, as creches e orfanatos das crianças abonadas por um ou pelos dois pais, mais hospitais e mais pessoas para tratar e </description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total></item><item><title>Negação de responsabilidade</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2021/08/negacao-de-responsabilidade.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Wed, 4 Aug 2021 17:59:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-4571001467883927149</guid><description>"Ficamos perigosos quando não temos consciência de nossa responsabilidade por nossos comportamentos, pensamentos e sentimentos"."Podemos substituir uma linguagem que implique falta de escolha por outra que reconheça a possibilidade de escolha."Marshall B. RosenbergTudo o que fazemos, é uma escolha nossa, até a forma como reagimos à opinião/comportamento dos outros.</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Fazendo comparações</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2021/08/fazendo-comparacoes.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Wed, 4 Aug 2021 17:46:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-8298184749739155225</guid><description>"... quem tiver um desejo sincero de tornar sua vida infeliz, deve aprender a se comparar com outras pessoas."Marshall B. Rosenberg</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>CNV</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2021/07/cnv.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Wed, 28 Jul 2021 17:37:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-6767324532994021221</guid><description>"... não se pode construir a paz sobre alicerces do medo."Arun GandhiPrefácio do livro Comunicação não-violenta, de Marshall B. Rosenberg</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>The Man comes around</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2020/12/the-man-comes-around.html</link><category>apocalipse</category><category>armageddon</category><category>johnny cash</category><category>when the Man comes around</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Sun, 13 Dec 2020 23:39:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-9068480361352878641</guid><description>
  
    
  
"(...)Whoever is unjust let him be unjust stillWhoever is righteous let him be righteous stillWhoever is filthy let him be filthy stillListen to the words long written downWhen the man comes around (...)"by Johnny Cash</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1aEc-y7yiPZ_AjOLCYl1bfPqEzeLNB2PetlgC5XOQ03jsk__Dn8AWuotO3H-v1ZIVIjyZD1am4pDez6gXYPD7TRfKEh0Yq0ziMfmNYIMHNgaft_RThxAkOv6BKdsHTmf6kWjIw/s72-c/1607913585838164-0.png" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Última Lembrança</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2020/07/ultima-lembranca.html</link><category>José Mendes</category><category>música gauchesca</category><category>poesia</category><category>última lembrança</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Tue, 7 Jul 2020 22:16:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-8134671683445260455</guid><description>
  
    
  
Eu hei de amar-te sempre, sempre além da vidaEu hei de amar-te muito além do nosso adeusEu hei de amar-te com a esperança já extinguidaDe que meus lábios possam ter os lábios teusQuando eu morrer permita Deus que nesta horaOuças ao longe o cantar da cotoviaSerá minh'alma que num canto triste choraE nessa mágoa o teu nome pronunciaEu viverei eternamente nos cantares Dos&amp;nbsp;pobres </description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgerkHp_jrbGfbZj9p90dzHVpC03RrVAVuuFs_gPQc0YwDxCkxOvM7gEf1CqjSUAxRbXMzb8fWiiLEsg1q9oVA0BSCya5bchYeQJxbbjyZwNZ7KryE8qO567ZnLMCUyn34X4T6VtQ/s72-c/1594170945486073-0.png" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>PER DONARE</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2018/12/per-donare.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Sun, 30 Dec 2018 14:25:00 -0200</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-4924333206573903425</guid><description>Para
Doar
A vida n&amp;#227;o &amp;#233; para
Obter
A vida &amp;#233;
Para
Doar
</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">10</thr:total></item><item><title>Cântico</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2018/11/cantico.html</link><category>ars poetica</category><category>Carlos Nejar</category><category>Cântico</category><category>literatura</category><category>literatura brasileira</category><category>poesia</category><category>poesia brasileira</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Mon, 19 Nov 2018 23:03:00 -0200</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-8663477078718617174</guid><description>

Limarás tua esperança
até que a mó se desgaste;
mesmo sem mó, limarás
contra a sorte e o desespero.

Até que tudo te seja
mais doloroso e profundo.
Limarás sem mãos ou braços,
com o coração resoluto.

Conhecerás a esperança,
após a morte de tudo.

Canga - Carlos Nejar</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20GM4ncLb9F_0kpdz1KY4wknQUcspcxbaulppVyHnJKisaNXGIYXEQy3BhbR5F7a_rfCCQFk18FAozh2u_BS4f9l9fioUdB-ESgTa0gH6WF023pl6rIu5aqD1JybdxXdJtrj4cg/s72-c/Carlos-Nejar.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total></item><item><title>Democracy</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2018/11/democracy.html</link><category>Bukowski</category><category>democracia</category><category>poesia</category><category>poesia americana</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Thu, 8 Nov 2018 06:30:00 -0200</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-7010681956161981682</guid><description>

"the problem, of course, isn't the Democratic System,
it's the
living parts which make up the Democratic System.
the next person you pass on the street,
multiply
him or
her by
3 or 4 or 30 or 40 million
and you will know
immediately
why things remain non-functional
for most of
us

I wish I had a cure for the chess pieces
we call Humanity...

we've undergone any number of political
cures

and we</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB5uXgtjtedTPphspsqWwOGsgVWh5-67bAb_n8vK98nmFIWBU-NmShSb-IM_-_zQfeCjQ6w-oKIgW0MbSpZ7kCLVAzOUoumuFwxJjpZFPlAyTZhsxuQ97wkv_Ug0NkhXkDhETwag/s72-c/pointing-finger.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Of Literature</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2018/11/of-literature.html</link><category>apotegmas</category><category>literatura</category><category>máximas</category><category>poesia minha</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Wed, 7 Nov 2018 22:33:00 -0200</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-5479150988418581945</guid><description>



Literature consists in not

&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; saying



. </description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUal5ezPlUQoMsnJJhu-FtwEHMUC7OwCksjEOnYu3mrhyLQ2_0PhMJ_EVA-iTQEOnzlhYtMZjXMCfdC4Q-IjdHlTnxdgdM4YSL2CrbaWdbqHz7PSw1JRYOytI4BP7aYeEGo8rmKQ/s72-c/silence.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total></item><item><title>Leminski</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2018/11/leminski.html</link><category>literatura</category><category>literatura brasileira</category><category>Paulo Leminski</category><category>poesia</category><category>poesia brasileira</category><category>poesia concreta</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Wed, 7 Nov 2018 21:30:00 -0200</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-6474953546271667937</guid><description>




"se
nem
for
terra

se
trans
for
mar"

P. Leminski - Sol-te
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIpYGeCRrBiGaswgR7gnnI0ip3E3QzvJr3eSTiJc046-tNtfuNRjF9yinQAxaIfPo7J2uBTl3EOFqy2qJ-bpUxBhwzSILp6G_yuL9KNznICi_yEmIbGHu_aqQkb3RdoO090w7Buw/s72-c/poemas-de-paulo-leminski-para-criancas.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Dos tempos</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2018/10/dos-tempos.html</link><category>poesia</category><category>poesia minha</category><category>Tempo</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Wed, 31 Oct 2018 23:22:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-8708273146767398440</guid><description>



O futuro
nada mais
é
que
um pesadelo
benigno

O presente,
um sonho
insuportável

O passado,
uma brincadeira
sem
graça </description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX0wwK-MfmvlUPtZWy6k8yx090sXdiJMny6wbVJHSQ1Ji-k50-1OtdViy0bPYKsH4El04e6dTBhbrcowZLS0Lz3vZXzWUgdrCluBJKe27I1qMi4Yb1nnRhyphenhyphennidN52qSZjZncV2Xw/s72-c/a-pan-across-an-array-of-half-buried-antique-clocks-scattered-across-a-sandy-desert-landscape-under-a-blue-sky_vjevz9uxwg__S0000.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>O quis assim o Destino</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2016/09/o-quis-assim-o-destino.html</link><category>crença</category><category>destino</category><category>dúvida</category><category>poesia</category><category>poesia brasileira</category><category>poesia minha</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Sat, 24 Sep 2016 23:43:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-1964204156730199507</guid><description>



Quis o destino -
quem será o destino?
- que assim o fosse.

O destino o quis assim.

Destino, quem sois?

Quem dera o soubéssemos. Quem dera o entendêssemos.
Para o bem ou para o
mal,
assim o era.

Pois o destino possui razões que o próprio destino
desconhece. Desrazões ainda piores.

Ou maiores.

Eu cri, aprendi, soube, ri.
Chorei, perdi, cresci, arrependi.
Mudei, fiz, li, enterneci.
Briguei</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiExXawyBGOZRctJxFKLm3_MORwf850v51xgSipoWVijMNR0ghmzmrmpuvJ9Ymp-LGUBAI1kCWLyhFqtHk7offL0cw5O_nBPE-oIQkQq5IXFO6VqWwz4NQ6ujdI4xqGO6lGHDVdQ/s72-c/Pedras-no-caminho-do-destino-do-Brasil-724x367-mmh1k8t5v8g5w9opizfnu988ny8ri32xb5to07iqkw.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total></item><item><title>Melancolia</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2016/07/estou-de-ferias-estar-e-um-verbo-muito.html</link><category>amplitude</category><category>estar</category><category>melancolia</category><category>poesia</category><category>poesia brasileira</category><category>poesia minha</category><category>verbo</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Tue, 26 Jul 2016 02:10:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-529921686698457535</guid><description>



Estou de férias

Estar é um verbo muito amplo.

Gosto de estar.

O horizonte se abre quando se está.

Estou. E ponto.

E tudo o mais vive na formatação dos parágrafos.</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3-ThVbzt0BdrA0dfszBk2-66byb_7op-D_e8RR6nZWZbI0Fc52jOYjKIK_Mb3RY4p4fU5yR5h40k7Rh6r6F2Ww1J-fJYiL7ZaLIk_VXnUneaeakyaS3oe2oA_WtVQRVFeyv97A/s72-c/melancolia.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total></item><item><title>COMO PERDER A SI MESMO EM 7 ATOS*</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2016/04/como-perder-si-mesmo-em-7-atos.html</link><category>alucinação</category><category>cerveja</category><category>desculpas</category><category>eu</category><category>grande escritor</category><category>poesia</category><category>poesia brasileira</category><category>poesia minha</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Thu, 21 Apr 2016 01:27:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-1851499536366573472</guid><description>






I
- A Felicidade Inebriante ou A Vontade de Não-Ser



Nas
horas escuras de dúvida e temor e desejo de viver

Insurge-se
contra mim e me atropela

A
vontade de não-ser

Das
profundezas mais sombrias e execradas do meu pensamento surge ela,

fingindo
não-ser para ficar

Forçando-me
contra meu abismo e sucumbindo-me às suas vontades

A
vontade de não-ser toma conta de mim e me governa

Abusa</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWIpqB_KPEA2V6lafIx7V3eiybTuk59VhBKNq4fz2RFZcW3M90DJ0E2WefKbdeqh4moPo8nAFzZ_CMDuvI9s2eBdQ0IOmCLTXbSS4vf_QHJyfgKtFaSgpjzIhbtbmS0KXNdneeXQ/s72-c/VI.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total></item><item><title>O retorno dos que não foram</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2016/03/o-retorno-dos-que-nao-foram.html</link><category>grande escritor</category><category>poesia</category><category>poesia brasileira</category><category>poesia minha</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Wed, 2 Mar 2016 08:32:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-5504071904887034033</guid><description>
Fui.  Mas cá estive  Todo este tempo.

Fugi.  Pra longe,  Muito longe  Deste meu vento.

Escapei.  Das garras  Funestas  Do eu.

E aqui,  Nas amarras  Indigestas  Estou 

A questionar,  Na marra,  Os limites  Do tempo    
</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Le poesie - Amelia Rosselli</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2016/03/le-poesie-amelia-rosselli.html</link><category>Amelia Rosselli</category><category>literatura italiana</category><category>poesia</category><category>poesia italiana</category><category>tradução</category><category>tradução minha</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Wed, 2 Mar 2016 00:02:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-315473808215645682</guid><description>


Faccia nell'erba odori quel poco
che c'è da odorare. Sei stanco
vuoi dormire, ma non puoi. Le
rocce frastagliate prendono pose
sardoniche.

La morte è nell'aria, ti sfugge
solo per un poco. Quando torni
in pensione ti metti in ginocchio.

O vorresti. Ma non puoi.

Amelia Rosselli, p 421: Le Poesie


Face na&amp;nbsp;grama cheiras o pouco
a ser cheirado. Estás cansado
queres dormir, mas não podes. </description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufoE3ZhkXm2rVXfSRBjBEORVs58zWrAl_8VnPuJiVg3MP1aqaVAnJ_bXVA8XaQFxftiByD55j-lqKhcchh07_5y9mA3hheac2pCEcjTh53zhO9VvwzlCaPoNTP81AxpiQUrwYzg/s72-c/amelia-rosselli1.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Documentário Charles Bukowski - Born into this</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2015/08/documentario-charles-bukowski-born-into.html</link><category>biografia</category><category>Born into this</category><category>Bukowski</category><category>documentário</category><category>poesia</category><category>poesia americana</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Sun, 30 Aug 2015 00:00:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-5447621487509560605</guid><description>


Pra quem gosta dos textos do velho Buk, documentário essencial. Vários vídeos com entrevistas com o próprio Bukowski e relatos de amigos e colegas. Dá pra ver melhor quem foi o velho safado.

Eis algumas frases tiradas dali:


You have my soul and I have your money
(Vocês têm a minha alma e eu tenho o seu dinheiro - dito para uma plateia durante leitura de poemas)

When I write I am the hero </description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/tJ3Aq-xt9y0/default.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>COME ON IN!</title><link>http://assimfalhouzaratustra.blogspot.com/2015/08/come-on-in.html</link><category>Bukowski</category><category>poesia</category><category>poesia americana</category><category>vinho italiano</category><category>vômito profundo</category><category>álcool</category><category>óbvio ululante</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Zaratustra)</author><pubDate>Sun, 23 Aug 2015 01:51:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35412644.post-3208260245848898445</guid><description>


 welcome to my wormy hell. the music grinds off-key. fish eyes watch from the wall. this is where the last happy shot was fired. the mind snaps closed like a mind snapping closed. we need to discover a new will and a new way. we're stuck here now listening to the laughter of the gods. my temples ache with the fact of the facts. I get up, move about, scratch myself. I'm a pawn. I am a hungry </description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1bo7gZVhRgMuzBB1vhyfmxhwtHoMJS2QiV_9hIHsJAu0vZtk7VPIiFvvhI_XllMCqPE3lezl4mIXs7lPvmcbgwl5f9_Vvx_6VrtsAAuoA2qg-gFmZL_kXfL5Uv5VWe4DVvpxkg/s72-c/charles-bukowski-2.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>