Blimunda's playlist (Oct)

• 
  "Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? possibly.... "GB
  Sullen Girl-Fiona Apple
  Crazy - Gnarls Barkley St. Elsewhere0
  Just like heaven -Katie Melua
  Family Affair- Sly & The Family Stone
  The Ocean - Richard Hawley
  Don't Let Me Be Lonely Tonight- The Isley Brothers
  
  
  Lost In Love -Air Supply
  Closer (Soundtrack) - Can'T Take My Eyes Off You
  All the Way Around -Marvin Gaye Chronicles Crazy Gnarls Barkley St.
  Your Body Is a Wonderland, John Mayer
  Almost Doesn't Count -Brandy
  Obtener un Si - Shakira Fijación Oral
  Family Affair -Mary J. Blige No More Drama
  Ms. Fat Booty- Def Black On Both Sides
  Miracles - Jefferson Starship
  Do What You Gotta Do-Roberta Flack
  Morning Yearning- Ben Harper
  Move On Up-Curtis Mayfield
  Feeling Alright -Joe Cocker
  Notas- Gotan Project
  Mi Confesión -Gotan Project
  Crazy love-Jackson Browne & Mark Cohn
  Take Me As I Am- Mary J Blige
  The Promise-Tracy Chapman
  American Idiot- Green Day
  Sunrise-Norah Jones
  I put a spell on you-Nina Simone
  
  
  (Photos by Wind)

Morning

( all photos were taken by Wind)

"A yellow butterfly flew up
and startled me out of my morning complacency
I recognised your childish laugh
'Remember' you said'to live life today
and reach for a soul touch a heart or unveil a beautiful poem
my face smiled and I thought a whisper thank you for taking the time to remind me. "
MB

De tanto lidar com sombras....

Paint by Wind

De tanto lidar com sombras, (…)
Umgang mit Schatten (...)

Somos dois abismos - um poço fitando o Céu.
Wir sind zwei Abgründe - ein Brunnen, der den Himmel anstarrt.

Fernando Pessoa

(......)

Paint by Wind

"Sou o intervalo entre o que sou e o que não sou, entre o que sonho e o que a vida fez de mim, a média abstracta e carnal entre coisas que não são nada, sendo eu nada também. Que desassossego se sinto, que desconforto se penso, que inutilidade se quero! "

"Ich bin der Zwischenraum zwischen dem, was ich bin, und dem, was ich nicht bin, zwischen dem, was ich träume, und dem, was das Leben aus mir gemacht hat, der abstrakte und leibliche Mittelwert zwischen Dingen, die nichts sind, da ich ebenfalls nichts bin. Welche Unruhe, wenn ich fühle, welch Unbehagen, wenn ich denke, welche Nutzlosigkeit, wenn ich will!"

Fernando Pessoa

Wislawa Szymborska

Possibilities
I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind.
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love's concerned,
nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness
to the over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms' fairy tales
to the newspapers' front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers
to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes,
since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven't mentioned here
to many things I've also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects
to the time of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility
that existence has its own reason for being.
- Wislawa Szymborska

Mar

Oda al mar. Pablo Neruda:Aquí en la isla
el mar
y cuánto mar
se sale de sí mismo
a cada rato,
dice que sí, que no,
que no, que no, que no,
dice que si, en azul,
en espuma, en galope,
dice que no, que no.
No puede estarse quieto,
me llamo mar, repite
pegando en una piedra
sin lograr convencerla,
entonces
con siete lenguas verdes
de siete perros verdes,
de siete tigres verdes,
de siete mares verdes,
la recorre, la besa,
la humedece
y se golpea el pecho
repitiendo su nombre.
Oh mar, así te llamas,
oh camarada océano,
no pierdas tiempo y agua,
no te sacudas tanto,
ayúdanos,
somos los pequeñitos
pescadores,
los hombres de la orilla,
tenemos frío y hambre
eres nuestro enemigo,
no golpees tan fuerte,
no grites de ese modo,
abre tu caja verde
y déjanos a todos
en las manos
tu regalo de plata:
el pez de cada día.
Aquí en cada casa
lo queremos
y aunque sea de plata,
de cristal o de luna,
nació para las pobres
cocinas de la tierra.
No lo guardes,
avaro,
corriendo frío como
relámpago mojado
debajo de tus olas.
Ven, ahora,
ábrete
y déjalo
cerca de nuestras manos,
ayúdanos, océano,
padre verde y profundo,
a terminar un día
la pobreza terrestre.
Déjanos
cosechar la infinita
plantación de tus vidas,
tus trigos y tus uvas,
tus bueyes, tus metales,
el esplendor mojado
y el fruto sumergido.
Padre mar, ya sabemos
cómo te llamas, todas
las gaviotas reparten
tu nombre en las arenas:
ahora, pórtate bien,
no sacudas tus crines,
no amenaces a nadie,
no rompas contra el cielo
tu bella dentadura,
déjate por un rato
de gloriosas historias,
danos a cada hombre,
a cada
mujer y a cada niño,
un pez grande o pequeño
cada día.
Sal por todas las calles
del mundo
a repartir pescado
y entonces
grita,
grita
para que te oigan todos
los pobres que trabajan
y digan,
asomando a la boca
de la mina:
"Ahí viene el viejo mar
repartiendo pescado".
Y volverán abajo,
a las tinieblas,
sonriendo, y por las calles
y los bosques
sonreirán los hombres
y la tierra
con sonrisa marina.
Pero
si no lo quieres,
si no te da la gana,
espérate,
espéranos,
lo vamos a pensar,
vamos en primer término
a arreglar los asuntos
humanos,
los más grandes primero,
todos los otros después,
y entonces
entraremos en ti,
cortaremos las olas
con cuchillo de fuego,
en un caballo eléctrico
saltaremos la espuma,
cantando
nos hundiremos
hasta tocar el fondo
de tus entrañas,
un hilo atómico
guardará tu cintura,
plantaremos
en tu jardín profundo
plantas
de cemento y acero,
te amarraremos
pies y manos,
los hombres por tu piel
pasearán escupiendo,
sacándote racimos,
construyéndote arneses,
montándote y domándote
dominándote el alma.
Pero eso será cuando
los hombres
hayamos arreglado
nuestro problema,
el grande,
el gran problema.
Todo lo arreglaremos
poco a poco:
te obligaremos, mar,
te obligaremos, tierra,
a hacer milagros,
porque en nosotros mismos,
en la lucha,
está el pez, está el pan,
está el milagro.
(Pablo Neruda)

ViVa Portugal

“A viagem termina quando encerramos as nossas fronteiras interiores, Regressamos a nós mesmos, não a um lugar.” Mia Couto,escritor moçambicano, no livro O Outro Pé da Sereia, Agência Carta Maior, 27/06/2006

Antes Del Comienzo

ANTES DEL COMIENZO

Ruidos confusos, claridad incierta.
Otro día comienza.
Es un cuarto en penumbra
y dos cuerpos tendidos.
En mi frente me pierdo
por un llano sin nadie.
Ya las horas afilan sus navajas.
Pero a mi lado tú respiras;
entrañable y remota
fluyes y no te mueves.
Inaccesible si te pienso,
con los ojos te palpo,
te miro con las manos.
Los sueños nos separan
y la sangre nos junta.
somos un río de latidos.
Bajo tus párpados madura
la semilla del sol.
El mundo
no es real todavía,
el tiempo duda:
sólo es cierto
el calor de tu piel.
En tu respiración escucho
la marea del ser,
la sílaba olvidada del Comienzo.

Octavio Paz

In Lisbon, Portugal

Here I am again, "juntos" eu, o mar e o Tejo in Lisboa, Portugal for 6 weeks..

Juntos
Pedacinhos de tempo
roubados
Aqui e a ali
ruídos num quarto
que nos salva…
Desejos que nos acalmam.

Quando estamos juntos!
Dois mundos
Um Tejo iluminado
Uma canção Photo taken by Wind
Uma noite de raspão
Juntos
O Azul se esconde entre portas que se abrem
Períodos nus desejos submersos
passadeiras com vontades
Quando estamos juntos
Um medo empurrado
Uma madrugada acordada
Uma alma entre nos
Dois corpos alinhados

Juntos

Modelamos a saudade
cega-se a ausência
interrompe-se os vazios
reconcilia-se fragilidades

Por sombras de sílabas.
Quando estamos juntos….penetramos nos gestos dos nossos corpos

Susana Pestana

Greg Brown

Here is one of the greatest musician/songwriters in the the Midwest- Mister Brown

"Where Is Maria?"
there's a sweated-through shirt thrown over a chair
an old photo of Anna Magnani in her underwear
there's an old dog barking at a brand new moon
and a sign in every window sayin' "Be Back Soon"
but where is maria?
there's a young fellow rockin' in a thump thump car
and he's smug as a commentator on NPR
and our foolish government tries to save face
while the whole world struggles to become one bland place
but where is maria?
there's a millionaire singing about nothing at all
but he looks pretty good and he's knocking 'em dead down at the mall
there's a woman weary of the look in men's eyes
when they don't look she just turns away and sighs
but where is maria?
there's a dirty rain falling like the tears of shame
she's the only one I know who'd dance with me in such a rain
there's a guru snoozin' in a limousine
and a whole industry pumping blood into recycled scenes
there'll be one corporation selling one little box
it'll do what you want and tell you what you want and cost whatever you got
but where is maria?
there's a pile of letters from lovers friends
if your dream came true would you still want it then
a series of images on an empty screen
no conclusions just a kiss from Mr. In-Between
but where is maria?
there's a wheel of symbols and a wheel of spokes
let's face it, friends, these are station wagons and we're our folks
the cafe's open the hotel's shut down
but lord these bad habits sure do stick around
but where is maria?
behind the camera I saw her smile
I'd like to go back to that room and stay there for a while
there's a stranger's body with an old friend's face
there's a wild parade and a slow fade and a touch of grace
can I visit your house? can I sleep in your bed?
ah maria, if I rub your back will you rub my head?
but where is maria?

Project gotan

"Gotan Project," created by the trio Philippe Cohen Solal, Christoph H. Muller, and Eduardo Makaroff . Great music. Queremos Paz. We want PEACE

Abracos
Susana

O'Neill

O amor é o amor - e depois?

Vamos ficar os dois a imaginar, a imaginar?...O meu peito contra o teu peito

cortando o mar, cortando o ar.

Num leito há todo o espaço para amar!

Na nossa carne estamos sem destino, sem medo, sem pudor, e trocamos - somos um? somos dois? -espírito e calor!O amor é o amor - e depois?

Alexandre O'Neill

Blimunda & Baltasar

"They were not afraid, they were simply astounded at their own daring. The priest laughed and shouted. He had already abandoned the safety of the handrail and was running back and forth across the deck of the machine in order to catch a glimpse of the land below, north, south, east, and west, the earth looked so vast, now that they were so far away from it, Baltasar and Blimunda finally scrambled to their feet, nervously holding on to the cords, then to the handrail, dazed by the light and the wind, suddenly no longer frightened, Ah, and Baltasar shouted, We've done it, he embraced Blimunda and burst into tears, he was like a lost child, this soldier who had been to war, who had killed a man in Pegões with his spike, and was now weeping for joy as he clung to Blimunda, who kissed his dirty face. The priest came up to them and joined in their embrace, suddenly perturbed by the analogy the Italian had drawn when he had suggested that the priest himself was God, Baltasar his son, and Blimunda the holy ghost, and now all three of them were up there in the skies together, There is only one God, he shouted, but the wind snatched the words from his mouth. Then Blimunda said, Unless we open the sail, we shall go on climbing, and we might even collide with the sun."

Saramago

Voo descoberto

Voo descoberto

Passou por mim uma voz
Um estoiro. Equilibrado na luz do dia,
Esperanças
Sentidas por uma realidade que se acorda
Um despertar sem aviso
Um olhar entreaberto nas metades agitadas.
Num um dia adulto
Coberto de brilhos nos olhos
Infantilidades adormecidas
Tu.
Criança que espreitas às escondidas
Dentro da minha vida num quarto pequeno.
De olhos arregalados
Congelados em dor,
Em feridas que se deslizam,
No despertar de uma lágrima que se rola.

Sabedora lágrima que és, minha amiga
Foge desse olhar arranhado pelos anos
E sobrevoa por galhos rijos e carinhosos.
Vultos aquecidos por momentos.
Voa!

Susana Pestana