"The Gargoyle Strikes" by Otto Binder(?) (in English)

Captain America #35 vol.1 - February 1944. Timely.

Art by Sid Shore and Vince Alascia.

 

The Mercy of God According to St. Luke (in Portuguese)

1. Todos os cobradores de impostos e pecadores se aproximavam de Jesus para O escutar. 2. Mas os fariseus e os doutores da Lei criticavam Jesus, dizendo: «Este homem acolhe os pecadores e come com eles!». 3. Então Jesus contou-lhes esta parábola:

4. «Se um de vós tem cem ovelhas e perde uma, será que não deixa as noventa e nove no campo para ir procurar a ovelha que se perdeu, até a encontrar? 5. E, quando a encontra, com muita alegria coloca-a aos ombros. 6. Chegando a casa, reúne amigos e vizinhos, para dizer: "Alegrai-vos comigo! Encontrei a minha ovelha que estava perdida". 7. E Eu declaro-vos: assim, haverá mais alegria no Céu por um só pecador que se converte, do que por noventa e nove justos que não precisam de conversão».

8. «Se uma mulher tem dez moedas de prata e perde uma, será que não acende uma lâmpada, varre a casa e procura cuidadosamente, até encontrar a moeda? 9. Quando a encontra, reúne amigas e vizinhas, para dizer: "Alegrai-vos comigo! Encontrei a moeda que tinha perdido". 10. E Eu declaro-vos: os anjos de Deus sentem a mesma alegria por um só pecador que se converte».

            11. Jesus continuou: «Um homem tinha dois filhos. 12. O filho mais novo disse ao pai: "Pai, dá-me a parte da herança que me cabe". E o pai dividiu os bens entre eles. 13. Poucos dias depois, o filho mais novo juntou o que era seu e partiu para um lugar distante. E aí esbanjou tudo numa vida desenfreada.

14. Quando tinha gasto tudo o que possuía, houve uma grande fome nessa região e ele começou a passar necessidade. 15. Então foi pedir trabalho a um homem do lugar, que o mandou para os seus campos cuidar dos porcos. 16. O rapaz queria matar a fome com a vianda que os porcos comiam, mas nem isso lhe davam. 17. Então, caindo em si, disse: "Quantos empregados do meu pai têm pão com fartura, e eu aqui a morrer de fome... 18. Vou levantar-me, vou ter com meu pai e dizer-lhe: Pai, pequei contra Deus e contra ti; 19. já não mereço que me chamem teu filho. Trata-me como um dos teus empregados". 20. Então levantou-se e foi ter com o pai. Quando ainda estava longe, o pai avistou-o e teve compaixão. Correu ao seu encontro, abraçou-o e cobriu-o de beijos.

            21. Então o filho disse: "Pai, pequei contra Deus e contra ti; já não mereço que me chamem teu filho". 22. Mas o pai disse aos empregados: "Depressa, trazei a melhor túnica para vestir o meu filho. E colocai-lhe um anel no dedo e sandálias nos pés. 23. Pegai no novilho gordo e matai-o. Vamos fazer um banquete. 24. Porque este meu filho estava morto e tornou a viver; estava perdido e foi encontrado". E começaram a festa.

            25. O filho mais velho estava no campo. Ao voltar, já perto de casa, ouviu música e barulho de dança. 26. Então chamou um dos criados e perguntou o que estava a acontecer. 27. O criado respondeu: "É o teu irmão que voltou. E teu pai, porque o recuperou são e salvo, matou o novilho gordo". 28. Então, o irmão ficou com raiva e não queria entrar. O pai saiu e insistiu com ele. 29. Mas ele respondeu ao pai: "Eu trabalho para ti há tantos anos, nunca desobedeci a nenhuma ordem tua; e nunca me deste um cabrito para eu festejar com os meus amigos. 30. Quando chegou esse teu filho, que devorou os teus bens com prostitutas, matas o novilho gordo!"

            31. Então o pai disse-lhe: "Filho, estás sempre comigo e tudo o que é meu é teu. 32. Mas era preciso festejar e alegrar-nos, porque este teu irmão estava morto e tornou a viver; estava perdido, e foi encontrado"».

Marc Anthony and the Dead Caesar by William Shapespeare (in English)

Julius Casear - Act III, Scene 2

ANTONY. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!

    I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

    The evil that men do lives after them,

    The good is oft interred with their bones;

    So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus

    Hath told you Caesar was ambitious;

    If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

    And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.

    Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest-

    For Brutus is an honorable man;

    So are they all, all honorable men-

    Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.

    He was my friend, faithful and just to me;

    But Brutus says he was ambitious,

    And Brutus is an honorable man.

    He hath brought many captives home to Rome,

    Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill.

    Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?

    When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept;

    Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:

    Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,

    And Brutus is an honorable man.

    You all did see that on the Lupercal

    I thrice presented him a kingly crown,

    Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?

    Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,

    And sure he is an honorable man.

    I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,

    But here I am to speak what I do know.

    You all did love him once, not without cause;

    What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?

    O judgement, thou art fled to brutish beasts,

    And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;

    My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,

    And I must pause till it come back to me.

  FIRST CITIZEN. Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.

  SECOND CITIZEN. If thou consider rightly of the matter,

    Caesar has had great wrong.

  THIRD CITIZEN. Has he, masters?

    I fear there will a worse come in his place.

  FOURTH CITIZEN. Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the

crown;

    Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious.

  FIRST CITIZEN. If it be found so, some will dear abide it.

  SECOND CITIZEN. Poor soul, his eyes are red as fire with

weeping.

  THIRD CITIZEN. There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.

  FOURTH CITIZEN. Now mark him, he begins again to speak.

  ANTONY. But yesterday the word of Caesar might

    Have stood against the world. Now lies he there,

    And none so poor to do him reverence.

    O masters! If I were disposed to stir

    Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,

    I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong,

    Who, you all know, are honorable men.

    I will not do them wrong; I rather choose

    To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,

    Than I will wrong such honorable men.

    But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar;

    I found it in his closet, 'tis his will.

    Let but the commons hear this testament-

    Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read-

    And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds

    And dip their napkins in his sacred blood,

    Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,

    And, dying, mention it within their wills,

    Bequeathing it as a rich legacy

    Unto their issue.

  FOURTH CITIZEN. We'll hear the will. Read it, Mark Antony.

  ALL. The will, the will! We will hear Caesar's will.

  ANTONY. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it;

    It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you.

    You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;

    And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar,

    It will inflame you, it will make you mad.

    'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs,

    For if you should, O, what would come of it!

  FOURTH CITIZEN. Read the will; we'll hear it, Antony.

    You shall read us the will, Caesar's will.

  ANTONY. Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile?

    I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it.

    I fear I wrong the honorable men

    Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar; I do fear it.

  FOURTH CITIZEN. They were traitors. Honorable men!

  ALL. The will! The testament!

  SECOND CITIZEN. They were villains, murtherers. The will!

    Read the will!

  ANTONY. You will compel me then to read the will?

    Then make a ring about the corse of Caesar,

    And let me show you him that made the will.

    Shall I descend? And will you give me leave?

  ALL. Come down.

  SECOND CITIZEN. Descend.

                                  He comes down from the pulpit.

  THIRD CITIZEN. You shall have leave.

  FOURTH CITIZEN. A ring, stand round.

  FIRST CITIZEN. Stand from the hearse, stand from the body.

  SECOND CITIZEN. Room for Antony, most noble Antony.

  ANTONY. Nay, press not so upon me, stand far off.

  ALL. Stand back; room, bear back!

  ANTONY. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.

    You all do know this mantle. I remember

    The first time ever Caesar put it on;

    'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent,

    That day he overcame the Nervii.

    Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through;

    See what a rent the envious Casca made;

    Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;

    And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,

    Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it,

    As rushing out of doors, to be resolved

    If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no;

    For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel.

    Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him!

    This was the most unkindest cut of all;

    For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,

    Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,

    Quite vanquish'd him. Then burst his mighty heart,

    And, in his mantle muffling up his face,

    Even at the base of Pompey's statue,

    Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell.

    O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!

    Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,

    Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.

    O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel

    The dint of pity. These are gracious drops.

    Kind souls, what weep you when you but behold

    Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here,

    Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.

  FIRST CITIZEN. O piteous spectacle!

  SECOND CITIZEN. O noble Caesar!

  THIRD CITIZEN. O woeful day!

  FOURTH CITIZEN. O traitors villains!

  FIRST CITIZEN. O most bloody sight!

  SECOND CITIZEN. We will be revenged.

  ALL. Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Fire! Kill!

    Slay! Let not a traitor live!

  ANTONY. Stay, countrymen.

  FIRST CITIZEN. Peace there! Hear the noble Antony.

  SECOND CITIZEN. We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die

with

    him.

  ANTONY. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up

    To such a sudden flood of mutiny.

    They that have done this deed are honorable.

    What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,

    That made them do it. They are wise and honorable,

    And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.

    I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts.

    I am no orator, as Brutus is;

    But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,

    That love my friend, and that they know full well

    That gave me public leave to speak of him.

    For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,

    Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,

    To stir men's blood. I only speak right on;

    I tell you that which you yourselves do know;

    Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor dumb mouths,

    And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus,

    And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony

    Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue

    In every wound of Caesar that should move

    The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

  ALL. We'll mutiny.

  FIRST CITIZEN. We'll burn the house of Brutus.

  THIRD CITIZEN. Away, then! Come, seek the conspirators.

  ANTONY. Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak.

  ALL. Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble Antony!

  ANTONY. Why, friends, you go to do you know not what.

    Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves?

    Alas, you know not; I must tell you then.

    You have forgot the will I told you of.

  ALL. Most true, the will! Let's stay and hear the will.

  ANTONY. Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal.

    To every Roman citizen he gives,

    To every several man, seventy-five drachmas.

  SECOND CITIZEN. Most noble Caesar! We'll revenge his death.

  THIRD CITIZEN. O royal Caesar!

  ANTONY. Hear me with patience.

  ALL. Peace, ho!

  ANTONY. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,

    His private arbors, and new-planted orchards,

    On this side Tiber; he hath left them you,

    And to your heirs forever- common pleasures,

    To walk abroad and recreate yourselves.

    Here was a Caesar! When comes such another?

  FIRST CITIZEN. Never, never. Come, away, away!

    We'll burn his body in the holy place

    And with the brands fire the traitors' houses.

    Take up the body.

  SECOND CITIZEN. Go fetch fire.

  THIRD CITIZEN. Pluck down benches.

  FOURTH CITIZEN. Pluck down forms, windows, anything.

                                  Exeunt Citizens with the body.

  ANTONY. Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot,

    Take thou what course thou wilt.

"A Fragment" by Oscar Wilde (in English)

Beautiful star with the crimson lips

And flagrant daffodil hair,

Come back, come back, in the shaking ships

O'er the much-overrated sea,

To the hearts that are sick for thee

With a woe worse than mal de mer-

O beautiful stars with the crimson lips

And the flagrant daffodil hair. -

O ship that shakes on the desolate sea,

Neath the flag of the wan White Star,

Thou bringest a brighter star with thee

From the land of the Philistine,

Where Niagara's reckoned fine

And Tupper is popular-

O ship that shakes on the desolate sea,

Neath the flag of the wan White Star.

"Ser Moça e Bela Ser" by Raimundo Correia (in Portuguese)

Ser moça e bela ser, porque é que não lhe basta?

Por que tudo o que tem de fresco e virgem gasta

E destrói? Porque atrás de uma vaga esperança

Fátua, aérea e fugaz, frenética se lança

A voar, a voar?...

Também a borboleta,

Mal rompe a ninfa, o estojo abrindo, ávida e inquieta,

As antenas agita, ensaia o vôo, adeja;

O finíssimo pó das asas espaneja;

Pouco habituada à luz, a luz logo a embriaga;

Bóia do sol na morna e rutilante vaga;

Em grandes doses bebe o azul; tonta, espairece

No éter; voa em redor; vai e vem; sobe e desce,

Torna a subir e torna a descer; e ora gira

Contra as correntes do ar; ora, incauta, se atira

Contra o tojo e os sarçais; nas puas lancinantes

Em pedaços faz logo as asas cintilantes;

Da tênue escama de ouro os resquícios mesquinhos

Presos lhe vão ficando à ponta dos espinhos;

Uma porção de si deixa por onde passa,

E, enquanto há vida ainda, esvoaça, esvoaça,

Como um leve papel solto à mercê do vento;

Pousa aqui, voa além, até vir o momento

Em que de todo, enfim, se rasga e dilacera...

"The Song of Songs of Solomon" ( Chapter II in English)

1 I am a flower of Sharon,

a lily of the valley.

2 Bridegroom: As a lily among thorns,

so is my beloved among women.

3 Bride: As an apple tree among the trees of the woods,

so is my lover among men.

I delight to rest in his shadow,

and his fruit is sweet to my mouth.

4 He brings me into the banquet hall

and his emblem over me is love.

5 Strengthen me with raisin cakes,

refresh me with apples,

for I am faint with love.

6 His left hand is under my head

and his right arm embraces me.

7 I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem,

by the gazelles and hinds of the field,

Do not arouse, do not stir up love

before its own time.

(Second Poem)

8 Bride: Hark! my lover-here he comes

springing across the mountains,

leaping across the hills.

9 My lover is like a gazelle

or a young stag.

Here he stands behind our wall,

gazing through the windows,

peering through the lattices.

10 My lover speaks; he says to me,

"Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one,

and come!

11 "For see, the winter is past,

the rains are over and gone.

12 The flowers appear on the earth,

the time of pruning the vines has come,

and the song of the dove is heard in our land.

13 The fig tree puts forth its figs,

and the vines, in bloom, give forth fragrance.

Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one,

and come!

14 "O my dove in the clefts of the rock,

in the secret recesses of the cliff,

Let me see you,

let me hear your voice,

For your voice is sweet,

and you are lovely."

15 Bride: Catch us the foxes, the little foxes

that damage the vineyards; for our vineyards are in bloom!

16 My lover belongs to me and I to him;

he browses among the lilies.

17 Until the day breathes cool and the shadows lengthen,

roam, my lover,

Like a gazelle or a young stag

upon the mountains of Bether.

Untitled Poem by José Thiesen (in Portuguese)

Queria falar contigo.
Falar de coisas antigas,
De amores heróicos,
Lembrar de tudo que
Fosse o amor,
Amor que me foge,
Amor que não tenho.
Aonde estás que
Contigo queria falar?