segunda-feira, 24 de junho de 2013

A tradição de Comemorar o Dia de São João

                                            Hoje o dia de São João

                              "  A tradição de comemorar
                                 o Dia de São João
                                 veio de Portugal ,onde as
                                       festas são conhecidas
                                     pelo nome de
                                 Santos Populares
                                     e correspondem
                                  a diversos feriados municipais:
                                      Santo Antônio , em Lisboa
                                      São Pedro , no Seixal ;
                                     São João no Porto em
                                       Braga e em Almada .
                                     As Festas de São João
                                     são ainda comemoradas em
                                    alguns países europeus
                                    católicos , ortodoxos.
                                      Em algumas festas
                                     europeias de São João
                                      são realizadas a fogueira
                                de São João e
                                    a celebração de
                                        casamentos reais ,
                                      ou encenados ,
                                    semelhantes ao
                                     casamento fictício ,
                                    que é um costume
                                    no baile da
                                                quadrilha nordestina . "
       


                                                               Fogueira ,
                                                               um dos ícones
                                                                  da Festa Junina .




                                             O mês de junho é
                                                      caracterizado por danças ,
                                                     comidas típicas ,
                                                   decorações
                                               como as bandeirinhas ,
                                           balões,
                                                  fantoches......
                                               além das peculiaridades
                                              de cada região .
                                 Aproveitem este mês para curtir
                                    as tradições populares.
                                  hum....vale pena !
                                                                            A culinária.....
                                                                           música.....
                                                                             dança.......
                                                                                 as prosas....
                                                      Vá pelo menos
                                                   a uma Festa Junina ,
                                                        contagiar "alegria ".

domingo, 23 de junho de 2013

José Guimarães



                                                              José Guimarães
                                                                 é considerado um
                                                                dos principais artistas
                                                                   plásticos portugueses da
                                                                   Arte Contemporânea


                                                " Na sua obra ,
                                                    a cor desempenha
                                                 um papel
                                                     fundamental e a sua
                                                     temática principal é
                                                        o corpo humano ."






                                                      " Com uma obra notável ,
                                                          particularmente
                                                        na pintura ,
                                                          faz também incursões
                                                       na escultura
                                                         e outras atividades
                                                        criativas a
                                                         nível estético
                                                            quer nacional e
                                                         internacional "

Filme : Antes da Meia - Noite

                                                  Filme - Drama Romântico
                                                      Dirigido : Richard Linklater
                                                     Este é o terceiro filme da trilogia
                                                 de Richard Linklates ,
                                                     Jesse e Celine
                                                                discutem a relação.....
                                                             Os dois estão juntos e
                                                                  são pais de gêmeas....
                                                              E foram passar
                                                                      as férias na Grécia.......
                                                       

                               O filme com muitos
                                       diálogos e questionamentos
                                 são a tônica do
                                       fechamento da trilogia .
                                        Assisti o filme hoje ! !

sábado, 22 de junho de 2013

A Pálida Luz da Manhã de Inverno

                   
                                                    " A pálida luz da
                                                           manhã de inverno ,
                                                      O cais e a razão
                                                      Não dão mais
                                                      esperança ,
                                                     nem uma esperança
                                                      sequer ,
                                                        Ao meu coração .
                                                       O que tem que ser
                                                     Será , quer eu
                                                        queira que seja
                                                        ou que não .
                                                       No rumor do cais ,
                                                        no bulício do rio
                                                      Na rua a acordar
                                                       Não há mais sossego ,
                                                      nem um vazio sequer ,
                                                     Para o meu esperar .
                                                     O que tem que não ser
                                                   Algures será ,
                                                  se o pensei ;
                                                          tudo mais é sonhar."

                                               
                                                          [ Fernando Pessoa ]

Manhã de Inverno


                                                  " Coroada de névoas ,
                                                      surge a aurora
                                                     Por detrás das
                                                          montanhas do oriente ;
                                                     Vê -se um resto de
                                                            sono e de preguiça ,
                                                     Nos olhos da
                                                          fantástica indolente .

                                                 
                                                     Névoas enchem
                                                     de um lado e de
                                                      outro os morros
                                                     Tristes como
                                                      sinceras sepulturas ,
                                                        Essas que têm por
                                                         simples ornamento
                                                          Puras capelas ,
                                                              lágrimas mais puras .
                                                     A custo rompe o sol ;
                                                      a custo invade
                                                     O espaço todo branco ;
                                                    e a luz brilhante
                                                     Fulge através do
                                                    espesso nevoeiro ,
                                                    Como através de um
                                                      véu fulge o diamante .
                                                               Vento frio ,
                                                                  mas brando ,
                                                                agita as folhas
                                                                Das laranjeiras úmidas
                                                            da chuva ;
                                                                 Erma de flores ,
                                                                curva a planta o colo ,
                                                                 E o chão recebe
                                                                o pranto da viúva.

                                                               
                                                                 Gelo não cobre o
                                                                        dorso das montanhas ,
                                                                       Nem enche as folhas
                                                                       trêmulas a neve ;
                                                                   Galhardo moço ,
                                                                      o inverno deste clima 
                                                                   Na verde palma
                                                                          a sua história escreve . 
                                                             
                                                                    Pouco a pouco ,
                                                                     dissipam -se no espaço
                                                                As névoas da manhã ;
                                                              já pelos montes
                                                             Vão subindo as que
                                                                   encheram todo o vale ;
                                                              Já se vão descobrindo
                                                            os horizontes .

                                                                 Sobe de todo o pano ;
                                                          eis aparece
                                                              Da natureza o esplêndido
                                                            cenário ;
                                                       Tudo ali preparou co'os
                                                            sábios olhos
                                                       A suprema ciência
                                                        do empresário .

                                                      
                                                         Canta a orquestra
                                                          dos pássaros no mato
                                                              A sinfonia alpestre ,
                                                   - a voz serena
                                                        Acordo os ecos
                                                           tímidos do vale ;
                                                     E a divina comédia
                                                           invade a cena . "

                                                            [ Machado de Assis , in 'Falenas ']

quinta-feira, 20 de junho de 2013

Sob o Céu Estrelado

                                                
                                                 " As estrelas ,
                                                     no céu muito límpido ,
                                                    brilhavam ,
                                                   divinamente distantes .
                                                    Vinha de caniçada
                                                 o aroma amolecente
                                                     dos jasmins .
                                                    E havia também ,
                                                    num canteiro perto ,
                                                    rosas que cheiravam
                                                a jambo .
                                                  Um vaga - lume abateu
                                               sobre hortências
                                                    e ali ficou luzindo
                                                     misteriosamente .
                                                   A parte as águas
                                                  de um córrego
                                                  contavam a
                                                eterna história
                                                    sem começo nem fim .
                                                      Havia uma paz em tudo isso.....
                                            Era de resto o que
                                             dizia lá dentro
                                              o meigo adágio de Haydn .
                                                   Tudo era tão tranquilo ....
                                                  tão simples ....
                                           E deveria dizer que foi o teu
                                                    momento mais feliz ."

                                                 [ Manuel Bandeira ]

               
                                                     " Chega mais perto e contempla as
                                                              palavras
                                                      Cada uma tem mil faces secretas
                                                         sob a face neutra
                                                       e te pergunta , sem interesse
                                                          pela resposta pobre
                                                             ou terrível ,
                                                         que lhe deres :
                                                         Trouxeste a chave ?

                                                  [ Carlos Drummond de Andrade ]


Dai-me a alegria
Do poema de cada dia
E que ao longo do caminho
Às almas eu distribua
Minha porção de poesia .

[ Mario Quintana ]