<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278</id><updated>2025-12-23T19:44:18.181+00:00</updated><category term="#letras"/><category term="#palavras"/><category term="#lugares comuns"/><category term="#notas autobiográficas"/><category term="#melodias"/><category term="#pinturas"/><category term="#filmes"/><category term="#esculturas"/><title type='text'>na rua de cima</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1057</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-7120700435456486673</id><published>2023-08-08T00:05:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2023-08-08T00:06:27.119+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimONUaRquX9CCNfKzc6Jw-18Vocpjz2xpUE-NrmuMuX_WLqCjzWtg1IJPo8xV_pZLaUk1fhnSVbHUpEk_P2Xu86GQXHsSDu5kFQYrBnIUzz21Li_tVpItCJCwI0sNKcrZRLRRpABaMQvFRPdEWP4Xw4whWg4E6Aoeo02x3ACKzLt0JGp_HjhadHoE4Bw/s1200/1055877_1_l.jpg&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; data-original-height=&quot;879&quot; data-original-width=&quot;1200&quot; height=&quot;293&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimONUaRquX9CCNfKzc6Jw-18Vocpjz2xpUE-NrmuMuX_WLqCjzWtg1IJPo8xV_pZLaUk1fhnSVbHUpEk_P2Xu86GQXHsSDu5kFQYrBnIUzz21Li_tVpItCJCwI0sNKcrZRLRRpABaMQvFRPdEWP4Xw4whWg4E6Aoeo02x3ACKzLt0JGp_HjhadHoE4Bw/w400-h293/1055877_1_l.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;laura makabresku&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e nunca me disseram o nome daquele oceano&lt;br /&gt;esperei sentada à porta... dantes escrevia cartas&lt;br /&gt;punha-me a olhar a risca do mar ao fundo da rua&lt;br /&gt;assim envelheci... acreditando que algum homem ao passar&lt;br /&gt;se espantasse com a minha solidão.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(anos mais tarde, recordo agora, cresceu-me uma pérola no coração. mas estou só, muito só, não tenho a quem a deixar.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;um dia houve&lt;br /&gt;que nunca mais avistei cidades crepusculares&lt;br /&gt;e os barcos deixaram de fazer escala à minha porta&lt;br /&gt;inclino-me de novo para o pano deste século&lt;br /&gt;recomeço a bordar ou a dormir&lt;br /&gt;tanto faz&lt;br /&gt;sempre tive dúvidas que alguma vez me visite a felicidade” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;al berto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vou parir pela manhã a primeira flor na boca. uma palavra antes de ser primavera - trago no colo o infinito. o bréu da noite estrelada - sou do mundo mas o mundo não é meu - onde estás mãe que não te encontro nas estrelas - quando morrer vou para o céu. mas não vou com pressa porque amo a vida. as árvores e a tua pele - no teu corpo escrevi palavras eternas - espera - em que dia estamos. que tempo é este que já não é teu - respiro fundo - recordo-me dos teus lábios azuis gelados. num suspiro a vida fugiu-te. o coração vazio - eu grito e esperneio por dentro. porque a pele não permite que a dor se expresse - sem ar - volta depressa esta noite. mãe - sangue inquieto nas veias. corpo dormente. a vida está ausente - pausa - perder-te para me encontrar. sempre e cada vez mais. agora. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/7120700435456486673/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2023/08/laura-makabresku.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/7120700435456486673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/7120700435456486673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2023/08/laura-makabresku.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimONUaRquX9CCNfKzc6Jw-18Vocpjz2xpUE-NrmuMuX_WLqCjzWtg1IJPo8xV_pZLaUk1fhnSVbHUpEk_P2Xu86GQXHsSDu5kFQYrBnIUzz21Li_tVpItCJCwI0sNKcrZRLRRpABaMQvFRPdEWP4Xw4whWg4E6Aoeo02x3ACKzLt0JGp_HjhadHoE4Bw/s72-w400-h293-c/1055877_1_l.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-7829849028590928667</id><published>2023-07-25T21:55:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2023-07-25T21:55:14.050+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; 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imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; data-original-height=&quot;1501&quot; data-original-width=&quot;1500&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoVaTZw2baDTaHgqpvb1TqjbdWbqzn7riDIOHOLyTe1CHDF_25C7werBAt5vF7_H1FdeqsVBnnaSya5pwM2gTnDaNo5K0kfz13Arj_qNxUVO_cFWBmD-0sdGxe0_OFSN477Dv6daaRrJiXs5q4izvr3ouxKW2jF6f0YP-rP1hz4zEWj5EE13Dw6kz7Aw/s320/ZWIASTOWANIE.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;laura makabresku&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Aquilo que ontem cantava&lt;br /&gt;já não canta.&lt;br /&gt;Morreu de uma flor na boca:&lt;br /&gt;não do espinho na garganta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ele amava a água sem sede,&lt;br /&gt;e, em verdade,&lt;br /&gt;tendo asas, fitava o tempo,&lt;br /&gt;livre de necessidade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não foi desejo ou imprudência:&lt;br /&gt;não foi nada.&lt;br /&gt;E o dia toca em silêncio&lt;br /&gt;a desventura causada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se acaso isso é desventura:&lt;br /&gt;ir-se a vida&lt;br /&gt;sobre uma rosa tão bela,&lt;br /&gt;por uma ténue ferida.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;cecília meireles&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;uma ave no ombro. pára - o voo interrompido pela força do vento - um leve bater de asas. alívio. só o amor nos salva. quando o corpo perto - dentro. tão dentro. desperto - um coração contra o tempo - uma vida em alarme - quero adormecer no teu colo. como um passado perfeito. num pretérito esquecido - para que lugares foges quando a noite fria - entra. não esperes mais. ontem já era tarde - o corpo inteiro em chamas. por ti - um golpe de asa no peito - amor.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/7829849028590928667/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2023/07/makabresku-aquilo-que-ontem-cantava-ja.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/7829849028590928667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/7829849028590928667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2023/07/makabresku-aquilo-que-ontem-cantava-ja.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoVaTZw2baDTaHgqpvb1TqjbdWbqzn7riDIOHOLyTe1CHDF_25C7werBAt5vF7_H1FdeqsVBnnaSya5pwM2gTnDaNo5K0kfz13Arj_qNxUVO_cFWBmD-0sdGxe0_OFSN477Dv6daaRrJiXs5q4izvr3ouxKW2jF6f0YP-rP1hz4zEWj5EE13Dw6kz7Aw/s72-c/ZWIASTOWANIE.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-1052129315681382344</id><published>2023-07-24T21:51:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2023-07-24T21:53:26.362+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; 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data-original-height=&quot;1667&quot; data-original-width=&quot;2500&quot; height=&quot;266&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhspqiPYm_AZIYrnlpgBV9kJYDDTA-unphLZg4SRVwryBFEevTN--hIU8FBWKrfDcBpCB331s6TN2IiG1JKoemSTw4GZaInte3GUzrDXs3bK2Py5X9O3lTBL-2toGMnvqdc6ZjPMgw__0sKSj2tbPrjDwD5Rf-E6GlJGLtFcrd3P-oLO8PftYICTf8u9A/w400-h266/Print-2.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;elizabeth gadd&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&#39;Que o amor te salve nesta noite escura,&lt;br /&gt;E que a luz te abrace na hora marcada,&lt;br /&gt;Amor que se acende na manhã mais dura,&lt;br /&gt;Quem há de chorar quando a voz se apaga?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Ainda há fogo dentro!&lt;br /&gt;Ainda há frutos sem veneno!&lt;br /&gt;Ainda há luz na estrada!&lt;br /&gt;Podes subir à porta do templo,&lt;br /&gt;Que o amor nos salve...&#39;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;pedro abrunhosa&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;um beijo inverno em agosto. a boca gelada na minha. e tudo foi como sopro - eu encolhi. mirrei. queria voltar para dentro da tua barriga. nascer de novo - mãe - não estava preparada para a tua morte e ainda assim vi tantas estrelas. um cosmos de amor e dor - caíste para o silêncio com a força de um trovão. a tua alma desapareceu num suspiro - já nos meus braços tudo tão longe. um grito mudo. um adeus imenso. o vazio - mãe. não me morras. fazes tanta falta neste mundo. como haveremos de viver sem ti - e a alegria a ir-se contigo. a desaparecer na tarde quente - abracei-me a ti. fechei os olhos - que o coração bata de novo. que tudo não passe de um susto - silêncio - ninguém me acode - uma corrente de lágrimas sem destino. sem propósito. o desespero de quem fica - &amp;nbsp;sem raiz. sem chão. sem colo. sem mãe&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/1052129315681382344/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2023/07/elizabeth-gadd-que-o-amor-te-salve.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/1052129315681382344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/1052129315681382344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2023/07/elizabeth-gadd-que-o-amor-te-salve.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhspqiPYm_AZIYrnlpgBV9kJYDDTA-unphLZg4SRVwryBFEevTN--hIU8FBWKrfDcBpCB331s6TN2IiG1JKoemSTw4GZaInte3GUzrDXs3bK2Py5X9O3lTBL-2toGMnvqdc6ZjPMgw__0sKSj2tbPrjDwD5Rf-E6GlJGLtFcrd3P-oLO8PftYICTf8u9A/s72-w400-h266-c/Print-2.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-6428231028145570392</id><published>2022-02-23T21:12:00.004+00:00</published><updated>2022-02-23T21:14:19.658+00:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&amp;nbsp;- não há recomeços sem luz. eu acredito - quando fixas o olhar assim nas nuvens. descobres que o céu é um lugar de crescimento. de aprendizagem. de renascimento - hoje fixei o olhar em ti. vi o céu. vi a luz - por vezes o mundo parece que corre à frente do teu coração e que todas as árvores vivem aprisionadas nesta terra - outras vezes dá-se a grande libertação de conceitos. de memórias. e tudo é. irremediavelmente. novo - também tu. como tu. novo - a despertar para uma outra realidade de ser. onde não há questionamento nem nada - onde ser invisível é fechar os olhos e deixar-se ir - não há lugares comuns. há desconhecidos. há memórias inesquecíveis. de outras eras. de tempos e espaços de longe - hoje fixei o olhar em ti. vi o céu. vi a luz - acredito&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/6428231028145570392/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2022/02/nao-ha-recomecos-sem-luz.html#comment-form' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/6428231028145570392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/6428231028145570392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2022/02/nao-ha-recomecos-sem-luz.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-8056401045372655247</id><published>2020-04-12T19:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2020-04-12T19:53:28.543+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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o teu amor, bem sei, é uma palavra musical,&lt;br /&gt;
espalha-se por todos nós com a mesma ignorância,&lt;br /&gt;
o mesmo ar alheio com que fazes girar, suponho, os epiciclos;&lt;br /&gt;
ergues os ombros e dizes, hoje, amanhã, nunca mais,&lt;br /&gt;
surpreende o vigor, a plenitude&lt;br /&gt;
das coxas masculinas, habituadas ao cansaço,&lt;br /&gt;
separamo-nos, à procura de sinais mais fixos,&lt;br /&gt;
e o circuito das chamas recomeça.&lt;br /&gt;
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é um país subtil, o olho franco das mulheres,&lt;br /&gt;
há nos passeios garrafas com leite apenas cinzento,&lt;br /&gt;
os teus pais disseram: o melhor de tudo é ser engenheiro,&lt;br /&gt;
morrer de casaco, com todas as pirâmides acesas,&lt;br /&gt;
viajar de navio de buenos aires a montevideu.&lt;br /&gt;
esta é a viagem que não faremos nunca, soltos&lt;br /&gt;
na minuciosa tarde dos lábios,&lt;br /&gt;
ágil pobreza.&lt;br /&gt;
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permanentemente floresce o horizonte em colinas,&lt;br /&gt;
os animais olham por dentro, cheios de vazio,&lt;br /&gt;
como um ladrão de pouca perícia a luz&lt;br /&gt;
desfaz devagarmente os corpos.&lt;br /&gt;
ele exclama: quando me libertarás da tosca voz dormida,&lt;br /&gt;
para que seja&lt;br /&gt;
alto e altivo o coração da coisas? até quando aguardarei,&lt;br /&gt;
no harmonioso beliche, que a tua visão cesse?&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;antónio franco alexandre&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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sei: o caminho nunca acaba. princípio e fim. no coração que sente. na alma que procura - e o que é vive em mim. tão forte que lhe reconheço o traço. como um rosto bendito à procura de Deus nas pedras. no mar. na estrela. na vida - pergunto: ainda acordas com os olhos vivos de esperança - é de luz que se fazem os teus dias - caminhas com o coração leve - é por dentro de ti que os milagres se dão como sorrisos. tão certos que a fé não se acaba nunca. tão cheios que o mundo te cega de amor - és. o lugar feliz. a memória perene. a saída do vão. a presença de tudo. o definitivo - e tanto me dás que no peito uma âncora - e tanto me dás que no peito ar puro: sussurro - santifica-me o nome na boca. à boca de tudo o que é. agora - não sei. adivinho o futuro: dois peitos abertos como braços ao vento&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;mar
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/8056401045372655247/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2020/04/ezgi-polat-o-teu-amor-bem-sei-e-uma.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/8056401045372655247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/8056401045372655247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2020/04/ezgi-polat-o-teu-amor-bem-sei-e-uma.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGal4kMz9zjjMqTBkqwHTzsGk4yyfriB_VT4VIwRHDE9zk8xEWh4Q7nsiLo83dNOpwxnXhxRF2WM7wiMbCnUkulmD0YN3S4oKogdHupIvLCVrSnDV3tczPY-WuoDfbO0z5LmTFf0n_nlA/s72-c/ezgi+polat.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-4985822760798398183</id><published>2019-11-24T00:09:00.001+00:00</published><updated>2019-11-24T00:09:25.939+00:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt; 
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&lt;span class=&quot;s1&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;.SFUIText&amp;quot;; font-size: 17pt;&quot;&gt;às vezes encontro-te na margem do futuro à espera - o que esperas quando assim me olhas como se visses o caminho - haverá caminho. seremos o caminho - nesta viagem de ser em consciência perdi-me da paisagem. foco-me na essência - um manto verde. um sopro de neblina. sou agora a paisagem - o meu coração dormente pela tua falta- não te quero esquecer. perpetuar-te como a uma vertigem - dou conta do mundo todo no coração tardio. complicada é a vida vista de cima - desapareces no início dos dias. reapareces já noite alta com conversas sinceras - que fez de ti a escuridão e o bréu. pergunto. porque foges de nós - ao fundo a esperança. uma nesga de luz forte reacende o fogo - ilumino-me como uma fogueira. ardo o teu nome de uma vez para sempre.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/4985822760798398183/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2019/11/as-vezes-encontro-te-na-margem-do.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/4985822760798398183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/4985822760798398183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2019/11/as-vezes-encontro-te-na-margem-do.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIraJsvKc5w7oMPhPLABqh5nz-c6Sa8OUm1PcRr2zefvJ5IbL1nLZTxBWMq_Kb4StOx73MiWKGo_8Bamr6aJ74fYz_3dBs2ypPX1P-1MkshgXSTHiy-mlZ9L_OVIyrmN23hjaWUPgZ9XE/s72-c/2A804094-A31F-4700-B9F0-63C4755708D9.jpeg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-5757646096478314393</id><published>2019-02-20T18:37:00.002+00:00</published><updated>2019-02-20T18:38:47.967+00:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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eu. tantas vezes só. dentro do meu coração. esperando&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;- que te regresses por dentro da mata e me mostres que estar vivo é a maior bênção - a luz consome-me e quando fecho os olhos é o teu rosto que vejo. todo iluminado - nunca esperei que te roubassem de mim assim. tão forte. que as minhas raízes se abriram em ferida de 2010 até hoje - sento-me em todos os precipícios. tão pequeno é mundo quando visto do alto. tão pequenas as mágoas. sinto a copa das árvores nos meus pés. inspiro ar puro até levitar    - acredito que me possam ainda salvar. que este estar assim inteiro te possa regressar - procuro pelo melhor de mim nas nossas memórias e reconheço-me no teu sorriso - que azul imenso. pelos teus olhos dentro. mergulho - o teu corpo aberto para me receber. que graça tão grande. que sobrevivência póstuma - quero ficar. quero partir. a mulher que sou grita por ti. somos as duas uma só. eterna
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/5757646096478314393/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2019/02/eu.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/5757646096478314393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/5757646096478314393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2019/02/eu.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/UL-6DxBNpJY/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-2011774714860978310</id><published>2018-05-22T20:42:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2018-05-22T20:42:28.656+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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na tua falta escrevo. para não morrer. para que me não levem os pesadelos - é que há dias em que a morte me ronda. como um desassossego lento. a inquietar-me por dentro até aos ossos - procuro por ti. sinto a tua luz movimentar-se ténue em meu redor à procura da luz em mim. uma luz que se desvanece - a maldade da humanidade tem uma escuridão tamanha. e escrever-te isto dói pela não esperança que é admitir que sendo um óasis não chego para acalmar de vez todos os desertos de amor - entardeço com o mar no horizonte. e haverias de sorrir por me ver finalmente entardecer com água ao fundo - que pintura bonita é esta de assim ver perder-se o céu no mar e o mar no céu. um azul imenso a atenuar as sombras - e a beleza da casa. com peixes dentro. regressa-me. sinto o gosto da vida. a pele fresca no fim de tarde e sorrindo apareces-me como um fantasma. a pairar numa nuvem de luz inesgotável. tão singela. clara - que me esperes e guardes nesse lado do mundo onde a dor não perdura. onde o amor não se afugenta por sombras e escuridão. que me ampares e acalmes quando a esperança fugir e regresses sempre até mim quando a luz me faltar&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/2011774714860978310/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2018/05/na-tua-falta-escrevo.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/2011774714860978310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/2011774714860978310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2018/05/na-tua-falta-escrevo.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-2948608556064301571</id><published>2018-04-20T22:28:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2018-04-24T15:44:17.263+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2wpUZtToib5SEhW1xx_UjO1fGATmCkLtvclh2mrBbD9NcSXbcC0tJ0bNpDLeF8kC_McS-60Tff3LaSLmb3R3ONlNxVyz4wQXOJc9581vIvhRjwJQ3h8pLUwYeIso5TKLqFpY2-4WkH7Y/s1600/940b361fd838d8a98d933bc63351ff3d.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; data-original-height=&quot;736&quot; data-original-width=&quot;736&quot; height=&quot;400&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2wpUZtToib5SEhW1xx_UjO1fGATmCkLtvclh2mrBbD9NcSXbcC0tJ0bNpDLeF8kC_McS-60Tff3LaSLmb3R3ONlNxVyz4wQXOJc9581vIvhRjwJQ3h8pLUwYeIso5TKLqFpY2-4WkH7Y/s400/940b361fd838d8a98d933bc63351ff3d.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt; jonna jinton&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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Ninguém&lt;br /&gt;oferece flores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A flor,&lt;br /&gt;em sua fugaz existência,&lt;br /&gt;já é oferenda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talvez, alguém,&lt;br /&gt;de amor,&lt;br /&gt;se ofereça em flor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas só a semente&lt;br /&gt;oferece flores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt; mia couto&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
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e de manhã o canto dos pardais e um cheiro a musgo a invadir o corpo: quero uma cabana de costas voltadas para o mundo e coração aberto para o céu - construíste-me uma cabana de paus tratados e ervas daninhas. dizias que dali se viam melhor as estrelas - acreditei em cada palavra tua. fiz-me futuro em cada memória. por seres tu. por te ter em mim a amanhecer em cada dia novo. a ser luz e vida e graça em cada palavra - a vida fez-me de silêncio - orai e vigiai: palavra do senhor - orei e vigiei até as pálpebras se não aguentarem abertas. fecho os olhos à vida. quero consumir-me de amor para sempre - enquanto eu for vida escreverei o teu nome em cada árvore: valentina - tudo está consumado na memória do teu abraço. num silêncio perene até desaparecer à margem - avó. fiz-me árvore. cresci. vou encontrar-te agora para um sorriso inteiro.&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/2948608556064301571/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2018/04/jonna-jinton-ninguem-oferece-flores.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/2948608556064301571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/2948608556064301571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2018/04/jonna-jinton-ninguem-oferece-flores.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2wpUZtToib5SEhW1xx_UjO1fGATmCkLtvclh2mrBbD9NcSXbcC0tJ0bNpDLeF8kC_McS-60Tff3LaSLmb3R3ONlNxVyz4wQXOJc9581vIvhRjwJQ3h8pLUwYeIso5TKLqFpY2-4WkH7Y/s72-c/940b361fd838d8a98d933bc63351ff3d.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-8593812090586925870</id><published>2018-04-03T18:42:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2018-04-03T18:45:22.036+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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As mãos pressentem a leveza rubra do lume&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;repetem gestos semelhantes a corolas de flores&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;voos de pássaro ferido no marulho da alba &lt;br /&gt;
ou ficam assim azuis&lt;br /&gt;
queimadas pela secular idade desta luz&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;encalhada como um barco nos confins do olhar&lt;br /&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;ergues de novo as cansadas e sábias mãos&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;tocas o vazio de muitos dias sem desejo e&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;o amargor húmido das noites e tanta ignorância&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;tanto ouro sonhado sobre a pele tanta treva&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;quase nada&lt;br /&gt;
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&amp;nbsp; a&lt;b&gt;l berto&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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tão longe que o mundo não nos pudesse agarrar e o corpo pequeno. de repente. cai para dentro do teu peito. o teu coração feito ninho. onde é possível nascer uma e outra vez. as vezes que forem precisas. até se ter força para enfrentar a escuridão de peito aberto - sigo os teus passos como sonhos que se tornaram estrelas no céu - em todas as noites percorro as tuas rugas. quero enfrentar o vazio. a certeza de ser só na vida - peço-te que regresses ao castanho dos meus olhos. ilumina-me - sei que me acompanhas e me percorres como eu te percorro. passo a passo. peço-te que regresses e te faças árvore. que me abraces forte até o coração ganhar raízes - voo com os pássaros. migro nas estações. rebento de amor. sufoco de tristeza. há em mim um sentir que não compreendo. um sentir tamanho que entontece - talvez um dia descubram que vivi como uma danada. sem ânsia. sem vergonha. sem dor. sem nada. pelo gosto de viver e ser assim - até ao fim dos meus dias descobrir-me em cada amanhecer e só tu. só tu me aplaudias em cada queda e reconhecias as minhas cicatrizes. como marcas de aprendizagem da alma - estaremos sempre juntas. sangue do meu sangue. alma da minha alma.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/8593812090586925870/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2018/04/jonna-jinton-as-maos-pressentem-leveza.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/8593812090586925870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/8593812090586925870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2018/04/jonna-jinton-as-maos-pressentem-leveza.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPC5UukVy3ko9xUTKETsx0iZtUqAvH09ZcZhPP-tNdLw2mDa-zYjKQuFEDmgYSlStX9mV8N9CmISx3H_j1n9_YyoPLoO9JPZBMvwpI5cJ7KKvHWOR8AC0COGMyEYZFG7JnOU6p45895zM/s72-c/031807.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-9039155181390972574</id><published>2018-03-04T20:18:00.000+00:00</published><updated>2018-03-04T20:18:52.193+00:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br br=&quot;&quot; /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikzd4Py3Ye3ZIyAtrvkIbzeU0RclNXXYuAjytmTKdBpWxSF_G3j31yrq4rQ036bZHNwbkgaRZ8IbGzJUlINbyFV4kv3zER8uEFAjlniR0FAb5SuET6BA8cQvg__H1GzultlaKhyMpmuoc/s1600/8.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; data-original-height=&quot;1068&quot; data-original-width=&quot;1600&quot; height=&quot;267&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikzd4Py3Ye3ZIyAtrvkIbzeU0RclNXXYuAjytmTKdBpWxSF_G3j31yrq4rQ036bZHNwbkgaRZ8IbGzJUlINbyFV4kv3zER8uEFAjlniR0FAb5SuET6BA8cQvg__H1GzultlaKhyMpmuoc/s400/8.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;b style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;Elizabeth Gadd
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Só a rajada de vento&lt;br /&gt;dá o som lírico&lt;br /&gt;às pás do moinho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somente as coisas tocadas&lt;br /&gt;pelo amor das outras&lt;br /&gt;têm voz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;Fiama Hasse Pais Brandão&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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para me perder de vez em cada sorriso - subindo o rio. o caminho estreita-se. a textura dos seixos no pés nus - cai o sol nas paisagens da vida. tenho trinta anos e ainda não fiz obra - sou mulher de água e luz - deixo-me ir por entre a vereda. haveria daqui construir uma casa de madeira. com janelas e portas abertas para receber - uma casa. um lugar feito de memórias. memórias de dias felizes onde descansar o corpo quando a solidão me assola - cada partícula de luz que compõe o meu corpo grita o teu nome pela tarde adentro - o coração puro. feito de bondade. renascerá para um novo mundo. em cada olhar manifesta agora uma nova terra&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/9039155181390972574/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2018/03/br-elizabeth-gadd-so-rajada-de-vento-da.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/9039155181390972574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/9039155181390972574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2018/03/br-elizabeth-gadd-so-rajada-de-vento-da.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikzd4Py3Ye3ZIyAtrvkIbzeU0RclNXXYuAjytmTKdBpWxSF_G3j31yrq4rQ036bZHNwbkgaRZ8IbGzJUlINbyFV4kv3zER8uEFAjlniR0FAb5SuET6BA8cQvg__H1GzultlaKhyMpmuoc/s72-c/8.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-1611430101730939277</id><published>2018-01-22T21:05:00.001+00:00</published><updated>2018-01-22T21:05:26.601+00:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMRVmAzg6nIahIHQuJArW-IGbwJBhVzhPtLnvRDFNwyZQFgiqJP4IhtMXd07RxYVUc1opSuDE0TeFSsrk_KiRf5D1aGZbX6ZLCznpIB2RbzMsVlCcJ-w8VhSKtAbQmsCKvd4pQSloJYwM/s1600/24862242_1936589409703842_8494532365697252576_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; data-original-height=&quot;610&quot; data-original-width=&quot;960&quot; height=&quot;253&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMRVmAzg6nIahIHQuJArW-IGbwJBhVzhPtLnvRDFNwyZQFgiqJP4IhtMXd07RxYVUc1opSuDE0TeFSsrk_KiRf5D1aGZbX6ZLCznpIB2RbzMsVlCcJ-w8VhSKtAbQmsCKvd4pQSloJYwM/s400/24862242_1936589409703842_8494532365697252576_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;b&gt;teresa q.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;Uma parte de mim&lt;br /&gt;é todo mundo:&lt;br /&gt;outra parte é ninguém:&lt;br /&gt;fundo sem fundo.&lt;br /&gt;Uma parte de mim&lt;br /&gt;é multidão:&lt;br /&gt;outra parte estranheza&lt;br /&gt;e solidão.&lt;br /&gt;Uma parte de mim&lt;br /&gt;pesa, pondera:&lt;br /&gt;outra parte&lt;br /&gt;delira.&lt;br /&gt;Uma parte de mim&lt;br /&gt;almoça e janta:&lt;br /&gt;outra parte&lt;br /&gt;se espanta.&lt;br /&gt;Uma parte de mim&lt;br /&gt;é permanente:&lt;br /&gt;outra parte&lt;br /&gt;se sabe de repente.&lt;br /&gt;Uma parte de mim&lt;br /&gt;é só vertigem:&lt;br /&gt;outra parte,&lt;br /&gt;linguagem.&lt;br /&gt;Traduzir-se uma parte&lt;br /&gt;na outra parte&lt;br /&gt;– que é uma questão&lt;br /&gt;de vida ou morte –&lt;br /&gt;será arte?&lt;div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;ferreira gullar&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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sobra-me o vento. falta-me o ar. estou na beira do penhasco mais alto da serra de sintra. já não sei voar - recordo-me dos precipícios de cesariny. quero morrer como as nuvens. perder forma. dissolver-me para sempre - por vezes tento a sorte. lanço-me às árvores. faço-me raiz do mundo. perco as sombras. outras vezes é o teu nome que me visita. consome - quero dar largas à realidade. fazer-me margem. voltar-me inteira. quero partir. de dentro para fora. reaver-me - mantenho-me ocupada. imagino como seria. dou voltas e voltas na rua de cima - quero alguém que me espante como um poema. que não principia nem acaba - regresso das nossas conversas sempre com o peito aberto. coração fora. cabeça adentro - quero escrever a eternidade em cada pulso. a eternidade é não saber de nenhum futuro - esqueço-me do mundo. lembro-me de tudo. só para me fazer ao largo. andar direita. ganhar pinta. ser senhora - um dia serei eu a obra. a manifestação plena do sonho. por agora nunca.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/1611430101730939277/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2018/01/teresa-q.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/1611430101730939277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/1611430101730939277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2018/01/teresa-q.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMRVmAzg6nIahIHQuJArW-IGbwJBhVzhPtLnvRDFNwyZQFgiqJP4IhtMXd07RxYVUc1opSuDE0TeFSsrk_KiRf5D1aGZbX6ZLCznpIB2RbzMsVlCcJ-w8VhSKtAbQmsCKvd4pQSloJYwM/s72-c/24862242_1936589409703842_8494532365697252576_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-5230009014188417023</id><published>2017-12-28T22:57:00.001+00:00</published><updated>2017-12-28T22:57:13.706+00:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDu65Fx8b1QGUiEFPdhBvShLBSFcscxVKi-T0X0xjEvrUwNJV9h8FoyJobQhuuTFpTtQchy08vFy3m1bAMrxDao7_uenm0VWXztNqt7h1RBpS-IPS9rSnRqFsVgmCeFikJBvyn3osxoVg/s1600/122102-1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; data-original-height=&quot;1068&quot; data-original-width=&quot;1600&quot; height=&quot;267&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDu65Fx8b1QGUiEFPdhBvShLBSFcscxVKi-T0X0xjEvrUwNJV9h8FoyJobQhuuTFpTtQchy08vFy3m1bAMrxDao7_uenm0VWXztNqt7h1RBpS-IPS9rSnRqFsVgmCeFikJBvyn3osxoVg/s400/122102-1.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;b&gt;jonna jinton&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recomeça....&lt;br /&gt;Se puderes&lt;br /&gt;Sem angústia&lt;br /&gt;E sem pressa.&lt;br /&gt;E os passos que deres,&lt;br /&gt;Nesse caminho duro&lt;br /&gt;Do futuro&lt;br /&gt;Dá-os em liberdade.&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto não alcances&lt;br /&gt;Não descanses.&lt;br /&gt;De nenhum fruto queiras só metade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E, nunca saciado,&lt;br /&gt;Vai colhendo ilusões sucessivas no pomar.&lt;br /&gt;Sempre a sonhar e vendo&lt;br /&gt;O logro da aventura.&lt;br /&gt;És homem, não te esqueças!&lt;br /&gt;Só é tua a loucura&lt;br /&gt;Onde, com lucidez, te reconheças...&lt;div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;miguel torga&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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e assim se fez mais um dia - a casa está gasta. há muito que as heras se apoderaram dela - que nome dar agora ao vazio. abandonar-me à memória das tuas mãos fiando. vidas - digo o teu nome com o cuidado de quem escreve um poema. tem de ser perene. tem de ser inteiro. manter-se fiel às rugas de cada dedo - fica comigo para sempre avó. talha-me as dadas - tenho estado doente. do coração e das ideias. faz-me aquela reza. toma conta de mim. que a loucura de me saber humana e a pressa de voltar para trás me atormentam - volto ao casulo - digo: avó quero ser como um pássaro - dizes: e serás minha filha. serás tudo o que quiseres - encurto a respiração. deixo-me entristecer - as montanhas a perder de vista. vou lançar o peito às paisagens. perder-me nelas. esquecer-me - nenhum natal me lembro de passar contigo. de nada me arrependo mais. a memória de cada natal sem ti pesa-me tanto. quero entregar-te todos os natais. fazer-te memória deles - consagro o meu corpo ao imaculado coração de maria. como me ensinaste. a intenção fará da oração o que eu quiser - estás sentada na mesa da cozinha. não te vejo. sinto-te. avó dá-me um sinal. visita-me em sonhos. amansa-me a noite. sossega o meu coração&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/5230009014188417023/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2017/12/jonna-jinton-recomeca.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/5230009014188417023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/5230009014188417023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2017/12/jonna-jinton-recomeca.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDu65Fx8b1QGUiEFPdhBvShLBSFcscxVKi-T0X0xjEvrUwNJV9h8FoyJobQhuuTFpTtQchy08vFy3m1bAMrxDao7_uenm0VWXztNqt7h1RBpS-IPS9rSnRqFsVgmCeFikJBvyn3osxoVg/s72-c/122102-1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-7116558807580887512</id><published>2017-12-14T18:39:00.000+00:00</published><updated>2017-12-14T18:39:01.630+00:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0f2eUS52Kyyc_JKA7BGngINJLqNdHctmzJD5Zg3SZ0GUegL4twH0fZojvifW14FRdU0G4ay5ycUwy_-d2XLsUzYJLdJWBuj_cpI-qn2dkuPe4UBXaXBORcLh7G5Nbk4_lqOWdnpilqps/s1600/Dec%252B11-1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; data-original-height=&quot;667&quot; data-original-width=&quot;1000&quot; height=&quot;266&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0f2eUS52Kyyc_JKA7BGngINJLqNdHctmzJD5Zg3SZ0GUegL4twH0fZojvifW14FRdU0G4ay5ycUwy_-d2XLsUzYJLdJWBuj_cpI-qn2dkuPe4UBXaXBORcLh7G5Nbk4_lqOWdnpilqps/s400/Dec%252B11-1.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;b&gt;Elizabeth Gadd 


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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não, meu coração não é maior que o mundo.&lt;br /&gt;É muito menor.&lt;br /&gt;Nele não cabem nem as minhas dores.&lt;br /&gt;Por isso gosto tanto de me contar.&lt;br /&gt;Por isso me dispo,&lt;br /&gt;por isso me grito,&lt;br /&gt;por isso freqüento os jornais, me exponho cruamente nas livrarias:&lt;br /&gt;preciso de todos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sim, meu coração é muito pequeno.&lt;br /&gt;Só agora vejo que nele não cabem os homens.&lt;br /&gt;Os homens estão cá fora, estão na rua.&lt;br /&gt;A rua é enorme. Maior, muito maior do que eu esperava.&lt;br /&gt;Mas também a rua não cabe todos os homens.&lt;br /&gt;A rua é menor que o mundo.&lt;br /&gt;O mundo é grande.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu sabes como é grande o mundo.&lt;br /&gt;Conheces os navios que levam petróleo e livros, carne e algodão.&lt;br /&gt;Viste as diferentes cores dos homens,&lt;br /&gt;as diferentes dores dos homens,&lt;br /&gt;sabes como é difícil sofrer tudo isso, amontoar tudo isso&lt;br /&gt;num só peito de homem... sem que ele estale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fecha os olhos e esquece.&lt;br /&gt;Escuta a água nos vidros,&lt;br /&gt;tão calma, não anuncia nada.&lt;br /&gt;Entretanto escorre nas mãos,&lt;br /&gt;tão calma! Vai inundando tudo...&lt;br /&gt;Renascerão as cidades submersas?&lt;br /&gt;Os homens submersos - voltarão?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meu coração não sabe.&lt;br /&gt;Estúpido, ridículo e frágil é meu coração.&lt;br /&gt;Só agora descubro&lt;br /&gt;como é triste ignorar certas coisas.&lt;br /&gt;(Na solidão de indivíduo&lt;br /&gt;desaprendi a linguagem&lt;br /&gt;com que homens se comunicam.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outrora escutei os anjos,&lt;br /&gt;as sonatas, os poemas, as confissões patéticas.&lt;br /&gt;Nunca escutei voz de gente.&lt;br /&gt;Em verdade sou muito pobre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outrora viajei&lt;br /&gt;países imaginários, fáceis de habitar,&lt;br /&gt;ilhas sem problemas, não obstante exaustivas e convocando ao suicídio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meus amigos foram às ilhas.&lt;br /&gt;Ilhas perdem o homem.&lt;br /&gt;Entretanto alguns se salvaram e&lt;br /&gt;trouxeram a notícia&lt;br /&gt;de que o mundo, o grande mundo está crescendo todos os dias,&lt;br /&gt;entre o fogo e o amor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Então, meu coração também pode crescer.&lt;br /&gt;Entre o amor e o fogo,&lt;br /&gt;entre a vida e o fogo,&lt;br /&gt;meu coração cresce dez metros e explode.&lt;br /&gt;- Ó vida futura! Nós te criaremos.&lt;div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;Carlos Drummond de Andrade&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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recordo o teu nome. intenso como um batimento cardíaco. sílaba a sílaba, até adormecer - não estava preparada para perder-te - atirei-me ao precipício e fiz-me luz. uma luz forte como a tua - a mesma força de quem se fez terra. noite. madrugadas frias. sem nenhum medo que perturbe o corpo - na ânsia de te reencontrar entreguei o meu corpo à beleza das árvores. ao voo dos pássaros. às brisas de vento - na natureza fiz um ninho de amor&amp;nbsp;- confio - que a Terra ainda te há-de trazer de volta. abrigar-me no teu peito - cada dia é uma bênção. vivo em plenitude. o meu propósito é este. encontrar a beleza do mundo e manifestá-la em cada sorriso. ser vida&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/7116558807580887512/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2017/12/elizabeth-gadd-nao-meu-coracao-nao-e.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/7116558807580887512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/7116558807580887512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2017/12/elizabeth-gadd-nao-meu-coracao-nao-e.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0f2eUS52Kyyc_JKA7BGngINJLqNdHctmzJD5Zg3SZ0GUegL4twH0fZojvifW14FRdU0G4ay5ycUwy_-d2XLsUzYJLdJWBuj_cpI-qn2dkuPe4UBXaXBORcLh7G5Nbk4_lqOWdnpilqps/s72-c/Dec%252B11-1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-1575192022897394771</id><published>2017-10-17T20:35:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2017-10-17T20:40:22.212+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;iframe width=&quot;360&quot; height=&quot;315&quot; src=&quot;https://www.youtube.com/embed/tZBCErA19bc&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;
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jonna jinton
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Tarde pintada &lt;br /&gt;
Por não sei que pintor. &lt;br /&gt;
Nunca vi tanta cor &lt;br /&gt;
Tão colorida! &lt;br /&gt;
Se é de morte ou de vida, &lt;br /&gt;
Não é comigo. &lt;br /&gt;
Eu, simplesmente, digo &lt;br /&gt;
Que há fantasia &lt;br /&gt;
Neste dia, &lt;br /&gt;
Que o mundo me parece &lt;br /&gt;
Vestido por ciganas adivinhas, &lt;br /&gt;
E que gosto de o ver, e me apetece &lt;br /&gt;
Ter folhas, como as vinhas. &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;                                  Miguel Torga&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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inspira-me a ser melhor ser humano - por dentro da noite nas horas mais mortas. quando o mundo adormece. ajuda-me a cobrir de estrelas o céu mais escuro - ilumina-me - como se iluminam as almas que partem para outros mundos mais dentro. por dentro da luz - aceita-me como sou. a partícula de luz tão pequenina. à procura da beleza do mundo no coração de cada homem - ilumina-me - na sensatez da minha alma. abraça-me. serena-me. que a missão de amar-me é tão difícil quando descubro que o meu amor ainda não consegue impedir incêndios - que o meu amor te inspire a contemplar a beleza do mundo e encontrar magia em cada pedaço de vida. e me inspire a manifestar essa magia em cada gesto - o divino que procuramos sempre esteve tão perto. tão dentro de cada um de nós - entende que existo. sou luz. vivo em silêncio. caminho com amor - caminha comigo. em solitude. em oração - estamos tão unidos. a nossa consciência ainda não compreende isso. mas estamos todos enlaçados e tudo é tão maior do que nós 


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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYhuqmvYPKiTRv4Rh5voQ7Drghp9CtMlvNbwzXwxfVWGhaW0XxWI_iF03-Ixb3KTAb7R39fg4RRnX1qiU_zcNuuT9sRSFqX6IUWaU7moxWSU1MgZDz3izOZkBEyTYV1fwrxA_nugkpFho/s1600/8.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; data-original-height=&quot;714&quot; data-original-width=&quot;1000&quot; height=&quot;285&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYhuqmvYPKiTRv4Rh5voQ7Drghp9CtMlvNbwzXwxfVWGhaW0XxWI_iF03-Ixb3KTAb7R39fg4RRnX1qiU_zcNuuT9sRSFqX6IUWaU7moxWSU1MgZDz3izOZkBEyTYV1fwrxA_nugkpFho/s400/8.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;b&gt;elizabeth gadd&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yo que crecí dentro de un árbol&lt;br /&gt;tendría mucho que decir,&lt;br /&gt;pero aprendí tanto silencio&lt;br /&gt;que tengo mucho que callar&lt;br /&gt;y eso se conoce creciendo&lt;br /&gt;sin otro goce que crecer,&lt;br /&gt;sin más pasión que la substancia,&lt;br /&gt;sin más acción que la inocencia,&lt;br /&gt;y por dentro el tiempo dorado&lt;br /&gt;hasta que la altura lo llama&lt;br /&gt;para convertirlo en naranja.&lt;div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;pablo neruda&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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escuto silêncio de boca-a-boca. de porta a porta. escuto o vazio - por dentro da noite. em todas as noites. e dias. em que não existes na minha vida - silêncio - &amp;nbsp;a profundidade do mundo no teu olhar de luz e verde-azul de paz - por onde te ocupam os dias - quero dizer-te que o meu peito te guarda para sempre. como uma imagem feita de amor puro - que o meu coração se inquieta pela lembrança do teu. para sempre - que mundos te guardam e te apartam de mim. de tudo. menos da minha raiz - que toda a beleza da vida eu guardo para ti. marcas de íris no castanho de mim - é errado viver deste lado do planeta. onde não existes. que é triste assim estar e ser. longe - &amp;nbsp;acércate a mi alma&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/1978643230088545037/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2017/09/elizabeth-gadd-yo-que-creci-dentro-de.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/1978643230088545037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/1978643230088545037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2017/09/elizabeth-gadd-yo-que-creci-dentro-de.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYhuqmvYPKiTRv4Rh5voQ7Drghp9CtMlvNbwzXwxfVWGhaW0XxWI_iF03-Ixb3KTAb7R39fg4RRnX1qiU_zcNuuT9sRSFqX6IUWaU7moxWSU1MgZDz3izOZkBEyTYV1fwrxA_nugkpFho/s72-c/8.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-3357814065186491653</id><published>2017-09-12T17:27:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2017-09-12T18:32:42.716+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyUIczg6OkkCWiabvdo8ca20Jli7VOdzwngj4sGTEx8yAULON2k1cDagVd1ENiZ1ETRarI2USgeFjjV5i2-YhI9BKXb3Jc_ozyWkkSP20aNi7oIz4FVo1bbxCL_9qf_YhmlIbNplH2MM/s1600/Elizabeth-Gadd-Photography2.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; data-original-height=&quot;453&quot; data-original-width=&quot;680&quot; height=&quot;265&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyUIczg6OkkCWiabvdo8ca20Jli7VOdzwngj4sGTEx8yAULON2k1cDagVd1ENiZ1ETRarI2USgeFjjV5i2-YhI9BKXb3Jc_ozyWkkSP20aNi7oIz4FVo1bbxCL_9qf_YhmlIbNplH2MM/s400/Elizabeth-Gadd-Photography2.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;Elizabeth Gadd&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://www.escritas.org/pt/t/13214/e-ao-anoitecer&quot; style=&quot;background-color: gainsboro; box-sizing: inherit; color: black; font-family: Ubuntu; font-size: 20px; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://www.escritas.org/pt/t/13213/dizem-que-a-paixao-o-conheceu&quot; style=&quot;background-color: gainsboro; box-sizing: inherit; color: black; font-family: Ubuntu; font-size: 20px; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
e ao anoitecer adquires nome de ilha ou de vulcão &lt;br /&gt;
deixas viver sobre a pele uma criança de lume &lt;br /&gt;
e na fria lava da noite ensinas ao corpo &lt;br /&gt;
a paciência o amor o abandono das palavras &lt;br /&gt;
o silêncio &lt;br /&gt;
e a difícil arte da melancolia&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;al berto&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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nos dias de maior fragilidade sonho ser pássaro. deixo de enfrentar o vento com as asas. desisto de forçar o voo e entrego-me à corrente. plano com o peito pluma aberto - acredito em proteção divina. nas asas de anjo/pássaro que me cercam e amparam as quedas livres - sou livre. livre do mundo. livre da vida. mas não me livro do medo das pessoas. o medo do amor mais puro. do amor mais duro. o amor que entrega. que deixa ir. que livra - escreverei um tratado às pessoas que me fizeram sorrir - perto dos trinta custa-me mais o tempo desperdiçado. quero mais a solidão. o silêncio. a delicadeza. a serenidade. deixar cair o corpo com o dia. deixar sorrir a noite na boca - tenho esperança. tanta. tão forte - reconheço. do alto desta cordilheira. que todos os sonhos são livres. como amores. livres de partir. livres para deixar ir. livres de me livrar - pelo sonho caminho. com o coração na boca e um par de mãos verde esperança a decifrar o futuro.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/3357814065186491653/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2017/09/elizabeth-gadd-e-ao-anoitecer-adquires.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/3357814065186491653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/3357814065186491653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2017/09/elizabeth-gadd-e-ao-anoitecer-adquires.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyUIczg6OkkCWiabvdo8ca20Jli7VOdzwngj4sGTEx8yAULON2k1cDagVd1ENiZ1ETRarI2USgeFjjV5i2-YhI9BKXb3Jc_ozyWkkSP20aNi7oIz4FVo1bbxCL_9qf_YhmlIbNplH2MM/s72-c/Elizabeth-Gadd-Photography2.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-8597184034521546229</id><published>2017-08-21T17:44:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2017-08-21T17:47:22.637+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
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&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; data-original-height=&quot;683&quot; data-original-width=&quot;1024&quot; height=&quot;266&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAWGXnJo9hI9D-KouiPyOd31FFftIFaBGQ2saPU6ZTL7wx1py8p2uwrKKu_dm7H33hUjZyBlmTkal7cVhzD_1gg-PqlMj8ZDd911L3OnCsE35EKyIvZiidTfB75dMP71i88lYYOR6Yz7M/s400/062116-1024x683.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;b&gt;jonna jinton&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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silencio &lt;br /&gt;
yo me uno al silencio&lt;br /&gt;
yo me he unido al silencio&lt;br /&gt;
y me dejo hacer&lt;br /&gt;
me dejo beber&lt;br /&gt;
me dejo decir&lt;br /&gt;
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apuñalada por lo ausente&lt;br /&gt;
por la espera bastarda&lt;br /&gt;
renaceré a los juegos terribles&lt;br /&gt;
y lo recordaré todo&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;a&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;lejandra pizarnik&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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tudo o que aprendi do mundo foi o teu nome. por dentro dos dias escrevo consoantes e vogais. as do teu nome. um nome próprio de princesas. de fadas. de jóias raras. de noites claras - tantas luas novas vi nascer nos teus olhos. tantas noites cobertas de estrelas. a todas dei o mesmo nome. a mesma idade. o mesmo jeito triste de sonhar acordada - eras tu e continuarás para sempre a ser tu. a dar nome às luas novas de todos os planetas - existo dentro do silêncio. guardo em mim todas as palavras que se dizem de coração aberto sem que nenhuma boca se abra. perante a admiração dos olhos - cada dia é uma nova conquista. a conquista da vida que sempre se soube só. e deserta-me o corpo. tão cheio de sentimento - sinto o silêncio pairar sobre mim. como uma aura de luz socorrendo a minha pele. purgando-a das pressas deste mundo onde me acho - encontro-me longe - tenho fé nos deuses que habitam esta terra mascarados de pessoas comuns. heróis com nomes próprios como o teu. é essa fé que preenche quando a tristeza dos rostos se abate sobre mim. é dessa fé que me alimento. para essa fé caminho com o corpo feito de luz e no peito aberto o coração em carne viva - neste tempo-espaço eclipse que a terra conhece. sou lunar e sinto-me nova.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;sub&gt;&lt;/sub&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;strike&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/8597184034521546229/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2017/08/jonna-jinton-silencio-yo-me-uno-al.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/8597184034521546229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/8597184034521546229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2017/08/jonna-jinton-silencio-yo-me-uno-al.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAWGXnJo9hI9D-KouiPyOd31FFftIFaBGQ2saPU6ZTL7wx1py8p2uwrKKu_dm7H33hUjZyBlmTkal7cVhzD_1gg-PqlMj8ZDd911L3OnCsE35EKyIvZiidTfB75dMP71i88lYYOR6Yz7M/s72-c/062116-1024x683.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-2046528159999817169</id><published>2017-01-02T17:25:00.001+00:00</published><updated>2017-01-02T17:27:47.091+00:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;266&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj217wTRAtDFT1hLBhx1lujfwXIKmKfYQqDKbXHV_twLYstaId5lgHfBxvd-eeaTywu-aONWCaJjzDymFR3ftmkXFJnSK8AAg7jjINpvHnLxWMqVy_r1lqvuQIswuIhidNNqmYl7hlOdqw/s400/Nov%252B8.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;elizabeth gadd&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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Homens que são como lugares mal situados&lt;/div&gt;
Homens que são como casas saqueadas&lt;br /&gt;
Que são como sítios fora dos mapas&lt;br /&gt;
Como pedras fora do chão&lt;br /&gt;
Como crianças órfãs&lt;br /&gt;
Homens sem fuso horário&lt;br /&gt;
Homens agitados sem bússola onde repousem&lt;br /&gt;
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Homens que são como fronteiras invadidas&lt;br /&gt;
Que são como caminhos barricados&lt;br /&gt;
Homens que querem passar pelos atalhos sufocados&lt;br /&gt;
Homens sulfatados por todos os destinos&lt;br /&gt;
Desempregados das suas vidas&lt;br /&gt;
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Homens que são como a negação das estratégias&lt;br /&gt;
Que são como os esconderijos dos contrabandistas&lt;br /&gt;
Homens encarcerados abrindo-se com facas&lt;br /&gt;
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Homens que são como danos irreparáveis&lt;br /&gt;
Homens que são sobreviventes vivos&lt;br /&gt;
Homens que são sítios desviados&lt;br /&gt;
Do lugar&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;Daniel Faria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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esta noite sonhei com árvores altas e a tua voz segredando idas - por onde ir agora que tudo ardeu. nenhum laço me prende. nenhuma aragem me conhece. por onde partir. por que viagens procurar teu corpo inanimado - lembro-me dos teus silêncios. procuro preenche-los de afeto. e no fundo dos braços um ninho de pássaro. uma casinha de madeira - vem. quero ser capaz de mostrar-te que o tempo não me arrancou o sorriso. que na boca me nasceram jardins. que em nenhum lugar deixei a minha esperança. tantas vezes tão maior que eu - vem. quero dar-te outro mundo que este não me compreende. e dizer-te do voo que o corpo conheceu aquando do abandono. reconforta-me saber que melhores horas te aguardam. que outros homens te encantam. que outras nuvens te acolhem - a terra prometida regressa agora do alto do céu - quando ninguém acreditou eu vi. eu sei. quando ninguém por ti chorou. eu&amp;nbsp;esperei - havemos de nos encontrar. está escrito e dito. e ninguém pode alterar promessas e testemunhos - e a maior fé é esta: dar sem medida &lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/2046528159999817169/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2017/01/elizabeth-gadd-homens-que-sao-como.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/2046528159999817169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/2046528159999817169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2017/01/elizabeth-gadd-homens-que-sao-como.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj217wTRAtDFT1hLBhx1lujfwXIKmKfYQqDKbXHV_twLYstaId5lgHfBxvd-eeaTywu-aONWCaJjzDymFR3ftmkXFJnSK8AAg7jjINpvHnLxWMqVy_r1lqvuQIswuIhidNNqmYl7hlOdqw/s72-c/Nov%252B8.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-3181273767691747087</id><published>2016-07-21T18:06:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2016-07-21T18:06:45.767+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;elizabeth gadd

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Walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet.&lt;br /&gt;
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ocupar de silêncio a casa. restabelecer os limites do medo que a alma não consegue apagar. respirar. tão fundo que o tempo o escute. tão alto que o mundo me fuja - permanecer em contemplação. encontrando-me em cada ser que a natureza envia ao meu encontro. humano e não humano. sempre vivo - trago a beleza do mundo tão funda em mim. incrostada na pele. e sei que o silêncio se reproduz nos meus gestos. é por dentro de mim que a terra ganha cor. que os pés se fazem caminho. que a alegria se faz sempre - à descoberta - que nenhuma ânsia perturbe cada passo. que nenhum tempo me ocupe. quero permanecer. fundir-me na luz. voar como os pássaros. chorar como os fetos. ser - ser este silêncio enorme que me habita. para sempre.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/3181273767691747087/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2016/07/elizabeth-gadd-walk-as-if-you-are.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/3181273767691747087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/3181273767691747087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2016/07/elizabeth-gadd-walk-as-if-you-are.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQpcwJGQpHnW65_zy5fIAa0WvQ5q9NY-q5bOGi5solUCaIe0zwPJQkvHC8umKniQH4kQhJ07_csE_E7WSvGd-azcb2lMDUrCfHQu_FOQTQAquc2ZI9h_i5T3zTdWpbNtYmi1PGPZCHWTQ/s72-c/11947576_1065225963490699_2547586911288858629_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-6291538225380464447</id><published>2016-07-06T05:56:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2016-07-06T05:56:56.796+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://scontent.flis2-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/13393919_1112123272179711_1319584200219442904_n.jpg?oh=18406a7d8bdbbd2e681d644092713160&amp;amp;oe=57F31F0B&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;267&quot; src=&quot;https://scontent.flis2-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/13393919_1112123272179711_1319584200219442904_n.jpg?oh=18406a7d8bdbbd2e681d644092713160&amp;amp;oe=57F31F0B&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;ezgi polat&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mais radical solidão, &lt;br /&gt;eu, com todo o meu corpo apenas, &lt;br /&gt;pela primeira vez. Eu, que sempre &lt;br /&gt;levava comigo somente os olhos, primeiro, &lt;br /&gt;depois, o ouvido e o tacto. Ali, &lt;br /&gt;naquela câmara do absoluto, do vazio, &lt;br /&gt;do amplo - amplidão que multiplicava o vazio, &lt;br /&gt;atenta enfim, a um cheiro ácido, &lt;br /&gt;do grande Universo invisível&lt;div&gt;
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render-me às evidências e de corpo ardente lançar-me a um cometa esperando que das cinzas se faça terra - era como fechar os olhos e ouvir canções antigas. que se estreitam na pele e. silenciosas. ocupam o peito de uma vez para sempre - ainda te ouço dizer: nenhum lugar foi feito para ti. és das estrelas - que as estrelas me encontrem porque em nenhum lugar me sinto. me sento. me quieto. e inquietar-me dói quando os dias assim passam - por vezes são teus gestos que interrompem a noite para me lembrar do quanto fomos felizes. e os padrões dos teus vestidos regressam da morte à procura de luz. digo-te: bom dia - não respondes - pergunto-te porquê &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; - não respondes. &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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|escrevo para mim. que nenhum dia me morra como tu me morreste. que nenhum mês assim fique a perturbar-me o coração. que nenhum ano nos esqueça - os silêncios já não me magoam. acostumaram-se a mim. fizeram ninho no meu peito - à data do teu aniversário escrevo sempre muito. todas as histórias. porque nenhum lugar é este onde agora existo. esperando que alguma estrela me devolva à vida&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/6291538225380464447/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2016/07/ezgi-polat-mais-radical-solidao-eu-com.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/6291538225380464447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/6291538225380464447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2016/07/ezgi-polat-mais-radical-solidao-eu-com.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-4237015049370979590</id><published>2016-04-04T21:37:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2016-04-04T21:37:31.438+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A noite quando ao fim descer decerto há-de &lt;br /&gt;ser certa solução. Foi há muito a infância &lt;br /&gt;Ao tempo o que tu tens tu bem o sabes cede &lt;br /&gt;estendo as mãos talvez te fique a inocência &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vida é uma coisa a que me habituei &lt;br /&gt;adeus susto e absurdo e sobressalto e espanto &lt;br /&gt;A infância é uma insignificância eu sei &lt;br /&gt;e apenas por a ter perdido a amamos tanto &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou sozinho e então converso com a noite &lt;br /&gt;das palavras que nos subjugam nos submetem &lt;br /&gt;As coisas passam e em vez delas é aceite &lt;br /&gt;o nosso sistema de signos onde as metem &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esta minha existência assim crepuscular &lt;br /&gt;devida àquela que é rastos destroços restos &lt;br /&gt;acusa hoje alguma intriga consular &lt;br /&gt;de quem não tem cabeça a comandar os gestos &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foi uma rosa rubra a autora desta obra &lt;br /&gt;aberta e arrogante grácil flor do instante &lt;br /&gt;que triunfante não há coisa que não abra &lt;br /&gt;para ferir quem a viu e morrer de repente&amp;nbsp;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;E noite sou e sonho e dor e desespero &lt;br /&gt;mero ser sórdido e ardido e encardido &lt;br /&gt;mas já não tarda a abrir-se na manhã que espero &lt;br /&gt;um arco com vitrais aos vendavais vedado&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;E embora a minha fome tenha o nome dela &lt;br /&gt;e da água bebida na face passada &lt;br /&gt;não peço nada à vida que a vida era ela &lt;br /&gt;e que sei eu da vida sei menos que nada&lt;/div&gt;
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adeus. não mais permitirei que o mundo me perturbe - ninguém. no seu estado de sítio e alarme. conseguirá interromper a minha esperança - por vezes desperto para a realidade. acordo dos sonhos para dizer ao mundo que não mais voltarei aqui - adeus. sei bem que as minhas fraquezas são as minhas forças e sem medo insisto. perturbo cada passo. com a serenidade do caminho - nenhum norte de mim desiste. de tanto se fazem os meus dias. que as noites se ausentam - inventarei outros continentes. onde ser feliz. em cada entardecer farei um ninho e em cada rosto um sorriso - adeus&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/4237015049370979590/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2016/04/ezgi-polat-noite-quando-ao-fim-descer.html#comment-form' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/4237015049370979590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/4237015049370979590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2016/04/ezgi-polat-noite-quando-ao-fim-descer.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-388616280904867228</id><published>2016-04-03T10:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2016-04-03T10:40:16.936+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>
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&lt;b&gt;elizabeth gadd&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pergunta-me&lt;br /&gt;se ainda és o meu fogo&lt;br /&gt;se acendes ainda&lt;br /&gt;o minuto de cinza&lt;br /&gt;se despertas&lt;br /&gt;a ave magoada&lt;br /&gt;que se queda&lt;br /&gt;na árvore do meu sangue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pergunta-me&lt;br /&gt;se o vento não traz nada&lt;br /&gt;se o vento tudo arrasta&lt;br /&gt;se na quietude do lago&lt;br /&gt;repousaram a fúria&lt;br /&gt;e o tropel de mil cavalos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pergunta-me&lt;br /&gt;se te voltei a encontrar&lt;br /&gt;de todas as vezes que me detive&lt;br /&gt;junto das pontes enevoadas&lt;br /&gt;e se eras tu&lt;br /&gt;quem eu via&lt;br /&gt;na infinita dispersão do meu ser&lt;br /&gt;se eras tu&lt;br /&gt;que reunias pedaços do meu poema&lt;br /&gt;reconstruindo&lt;br /&gt;a folha rasgada&lt;br /&gt;na minha mão descrente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Qualquer coisa&lt;br /&gt;pergunta-me qualquer coisa&lt;br /&gt;uma tolice&lt;br /&gt;um mistério indecifrável&lt;br /&gt;simplesmente&lt;br /&gt;para que eu saiba&lt;br /&gt;que queres ainda saber&lt;br /&gt;para que mesmo sem te responder&lt;br /&gt;saibas o que te quero dizer&lt;div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;mia couto&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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fazer-me raiz e reconhecer que estive tanto tempo ausente. compreender que as manhãs se fizeram prisões e os dias sementes que nunca nasceram - perdoa-me ter interrompido o amor com desculpas de ausência. sem saber de mim perdi-me de nós - regresso agora da morte para te dizer que a luz nunca desapareceu. ocultada da vida renasce hoje em forma de raiz - sou hoje o princípio e o verbo de tudo. em tristeza descubro a alegria da aprendizagem - regresso aos teus braços com o corpo coberto de terra. desperto para o mundo com os olhos postos no caminho. no presente que cada manhã a vida me concede - a tristeza acalma e o coração iluminado sob às mais altas colinas para agradecer esta dádiva. mais um dia de vida&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/388616280904867228/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2016/04/elizabeth-gadd-pergunta-me-se-ainda-es.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/388616280904867228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/388616280904867228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2016/04/elizabeth-gadd-pergunta-me-se-ainda-es.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-5478079976029072357</id><published>2016-04-02T20:02:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2016-04-02T20:04:57.736+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIu6E09b_0pdEp0CPl306v3PwCEP1ZaLirMyKHEBC_NGRwkO2zdmZLgQSjpuFaHQTP-wQv84hgHPWsnhezdg2xTq-zD0iYE-Iv-77OKxqcPDhoevI7J1tMsmPt38erdOb-tk8nZE5SMRM/s1600/medita%25C3%25A7%25C3%25A3o+um.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;265&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIu6E09b_0pdEp0CPl306v3PwCEP1ZaLirMyKHEBC_NGRwkO2zdmZLgQSjpuFaHQTP-wQv84hgHPWsnhezdg2xTq-zD0iYE-Iv-77OKxqcPDhoevI7J1tMsmPt38erdOb-tk8nZE5SMRM/s400/medita%25C3%25A7%25C3%25A3o+um.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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foto de &lt;b&gt;beatriz canteiro
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Não, não rezes por mim.&lt;br /&gt;
Nenhum deus me perdoa a humanidade.&lt;br /&gt;
Vim sem vontade&lt;br /&gt;
E vou desesperado.&lt;br /&gt;
Mas assinei a vida que vivi.&lt;br /&gt;
Doeu-me o que sofri.&lt;br /&gt;
Fui sempre o senhorio do meu fado.&lt;br /&gt;
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Por isso, quero a morte que mereço.&lt;br /&gt;
A morte natural,&lt;br /&gt;
Solitária e maldita&lt;br /&gt;
De quem não acredita&lt;br /&gt;
Em nenhuma oração&lt;br /&gt;
De salvação.&lt;br /&gt;
De quem sabe que nunca ressuscita.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;miguel torga&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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reconheço que não soube aprender com as tristezas e amarguras que a vida me reservou. o meu ser humano errou. perdi humanidade e. em minha defesa. escondi-me de mim mesma - durante muito tempo fingi ser a pessoa mais calma que o mundo conheceu mas reconheço que guardei todo o mal que me fizeram dentro de mim. e deixei que isso corrompesse e destruísse a minha essência - reconheço - por dentro de mim a maldade ganhou forma e hoje entrego o meu espírito ao céu para que se cure de todo o mal que nele houver. porque o mal não me pertence. tenho raízes de bondade sou feita de puro amor - cada lágrima que choro são raízes de raiva e ódio. que carregava dentro de mim - a minha alma agradece a Deus pela oportunidade de libertação. pela oportunidade de crescimento e pela orientação - peço perdão a todos os que magoei sem consciência. peço perdão por não ter conseguido dar-vos o meu melhor - a minha maior fraqueza sou eu mesma. reconheço. aceito-me. liberto-me. entrego-me na obra e graça da luz. a luz mais pura - construí defesas. um castelo feito de pedras. como dizia o poeta. mas as pedras do meu castelo não se transformaram em aprendizagem. o meu interior ferido. deixou-se assim ficar. preso nessa aparência forte e dura como pedra. desenvolvendo egoísmo. egocentrismo e um grande medo de ser feliz - tanto medo criei que destruí a minha felicidade nunca conseguindo entregar o melhor de mim a ninguém - tal como o filho pródigo regresso a casa. à luz. com o corpo fustigado pela culpa reconhecia. que a mea culpa se transforme em luz e toda a maldade de mim se afaste. nada disto é meu. não me pertence. foram subterfúgios que o ego criou - reconheço. peço perdão. ergo os braços para a luz - pai. regresso a casa. percorri o meu calvário. dá-me um abraço. &lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/5478079976029072357/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2016/04/foto-de-beatriz-canteiro-nao-nao-rezes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/5478079976029072357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/5478079976029072357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2016/04/foto-de-beatriz-canteiro-nao-nao-rezes.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIu6E09b_0pdEp0CPl306v3PwCEP1ZaLirMyKHEBC_NGRwkO2zdmZLgQSjpuFaHQTP-wQv84hgHPWsnhezdg2xTq-zD0iYE-Iv-77OKxqcPDhoevI7J1tMsmPt38erdOb-tk8nZE5SMRM/s72-c/medita%25C3%25A7%25C3%25A3o+um.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4144659026890319278.post-1138615464603988349</id><published>2016-03-31T08:14:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2016-03-31T08:14:16.542+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;elizabeth gadd&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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Se fuga la isla &lt;br /&gt;Y la muchacha vuelve a escalar el viento &lt;br /&gt;y a descubrir la muerte del pájaro profeta &lt;br /&gt;Ahora &lt;br /&gt;es el fuego sometido &lt;br /&gt;Ahora &lt;br /&gt;es la carne &lt;br /&gt;la hoja &lt;br /&gt;la piedra &lt;br /&gt;perdidos en la fuente del tormento &lt;br /&gt;como el navegante en el horror de la civilación &lt;br /&gt;que purifica la caída de la noche &lt;br /&gt;Ahora &lt;br /&gt;la muchacha halla la máscara del infinito &lt;br /&gt;y rompe el muro de la poesía.&lt;div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;alejandra pizarnik&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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nenhuma aflição deveria ocupar o coração - que volte depressa a luz e traga às planícies da pele a calma das primaveras. tudo o resto já passa. com a brisa - quando as noites assim se passam eu cruzo o corpo e fico madrugada adentro a descobrir memórias mais felizes. de rios sem margens e árvores sem copa - nada te direi. silêncio. e chorarei sereias neste mar de sonho - amanhã. quando o deserto regressar e o dourado se instalar no horizonte. tropeço de alegria e deixo-me ficar - hoje vou&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/feeds/1138615464603988349/comments/default' title='Enviar feedback'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2016/03/elizabeth-gadd-se-fuga-la-isla-y-la.html#comment-form' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/1138615464603988349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4144659026890319278/posts/default/1138615464603988349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naruadecima.blogspot.com/2016/03/elizabeth-gadd-se-fuga-la-isla-y-la.html' title=''/><author><name>mar</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12190021410356571928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevnmqSi4KD8brnrxgl-ezrD82L6O1209JQ9GEhPSDff_14i__fgUch8eQbI1l4RbzvRtomveOcgR8HURdK6zSIW3PraWGHjxhHn8pgWbPhLXfu8kib0AVrSj7CZ7F/s220/DSC_0356.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxg_xGGcRFZ3zStN4DUwku3pIGWIjFyw5pBkMCj_kBqYSc4aCCBrjzwVW6vuXjevGt_3whyPH6XEYYHXSUci41JTwcYLUyavVwG9ZZ6rwOaA4ykmHwjcjjjMsMPOyHsdqyIxgyIt7-6U0/s72-c/10565011_1176886688991292_2271199968210249676_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>