quinta-feira, 23 de fevereiro de 2017

A pior homenagem neste dia…


… a descoberta das ‘gravações perdidas’, vendidas?! Até factura existe… será?

Mas esta é a verdadeira… atual como nunca e fica para sempre…



1979

1. Quanto É Doce
2. As Sete Mulheres Do Minho
3. O Cabral Fugiu Para Espanha
4. De Quem Foi A Traição
5. Quem Diz Que É Pela Rainha
6. Na Catedral De Lisboa
7. Achégate A Mim, Maruxa
8. Senhora Que O Velho
9. De Sal De Linguagem Feita
10. Não É Meu Bem
11. De Não Saber O Que Me Espera
12. Fura Fura

sexta-feira, 10 de fevereiro de 2017

And because we spoke about…


A NAUGHTY LITTLE COMET

There was once a little comet who lived near the Milky Way!
She loved to wander out at night and jump about and play.
The mother of the comet was a very good old star--
She used to scold her reckless child for venturing out too far;
She told her of the ogre, Sun, who loved on stars to sup,
And who asked no better pastimes than gobbling comets up.

But instead of growing cautious and of showing proper fear,
The foolish little comet edged up near, and near, and near.
She switched her saucy tail along right where the Sun could see,
And flirted with old Mars and was bold as bold could be.
She laughed to scorn the quiet stars, who never frisked about;
She said there was no fun in life unless you ventured out.

She liked to make the planets stare, and wished no better mirth
Than just to see the telescopes aimed at her from the Earth.
She wondered how so many stars could mope through nights and days,
And let the sickly faced old moon get all the love and praise.
And as she talked and tossed her head and switched her shining trail,
The staid old mother star grew sad, her cheek grew wan and pale.

For she had lived there in the skies a million years or more,
And she had heard gay comets talk in just this way before.
And by and by there came an end to this gay comet's fun--
She went a tiny bit too far--and vanished in the Sun!
No more she swings her shining trail before the whole world's sight,
But quiet stars she laughed to scorn are twinkling every night.
Poems of Optimism. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

Para quem gosta dela…


… hoje está lindíssima… as nuvens trazidas pelo vento frio estavam tentar esconde-la… mas ela teimosamente tenta espreitar…




Leka nocht...


As I looked up in the sky, I saw a comet streak right by.

An exciting phenomenon it was to see. A most unusual, rareity.

Because this is an occurrence, that takes place so seldom, I'll talk about it, for years to come.

No matter what nature has to display, it never is, humdrum.

From here on in I'll be aware, more then I've ever been before.

For I wouldn't want to miss, another night like this.

As who knows, what the next time, has in store!

Audrey Heller