"The Dead Poet" by Lord Alfred Douglas (in English)

I dreamed of him last night, I saw his face
All radiant and unshadowed of distress,
And as of old, in music measureless,
I heard his golden voice and marked him trace
Under the common thing the hidden grace,
And conjure wonder out of emptiness,
Till mean things put on beauty like a dress
And all the world was an enchanted place.

And then methought outside a fast locked gate
I mourned the loss of unrecorded words,
Forgotten tales and mysteries half said,
Wonders that might have been articulate,
And voiceless thoughts like murdered singing birds.
And so I woke and knew that he was dead.

"The Book of Exodus" - Chapter II (translated into English)

Chapter 2

1 Now a certain man of the house of Levi married a Levite woman, 2 who conceived and bore a son. Seeing that he was a goodly child, she hid him for three months. 3 When she could hide him no longer, she took a papyrus basket, daubed it with bitumen and pitch, and putting the child in it, placed it among the reeds on the river bank. 4 His sister stationed herself at a distance to find out what would happen to him.

                5 Pharaoh's daughter came down to the river to bathe, while her maids walked along the river bank. Noticing the basket among the reeds, she sent her handmaid to fetch it. 6 On opening it, she looked, and lo, there was a baby boy, crying! She was moved with pity for him and said, "It is one of the Hebrews' children." 7 Then his sister asked Pharaoh's daughter, "Shall I go and call one of the Hebrew women to nurse the child for you?" 8 "Yes, do so," she answered. So the maiden went and called the child's own mother. 9 Pharaoh's daughter said to her, "Take this child and nurse it for me, and I will repay you." The woman therefore took the child and nursed it. 10 When the child grew, she brought him to Pharaoh's daughter, who adopted him as her son and called him Moses; for she said, "I drew him out of the water."

                11 On one occasion, after Moses had grown up, when he visited his kinsmen and witnessed their forced labor, he saw an Egyptian striking a Hebrew, one of his own kinsmen. 12 Looking about and seeing no one, he slew the Egyptian and hid him in the sand. 13 The next day he went out again, and now two Hebrews were fighting! So he asked the culprit, "Why are you striking your fellow Hebrew?" 14 But he replied, "Who has appointed you ruler and judge over us? Are you thinking of killing me as you killed the Egyptian?" Then Moses became afraid and thought, "The affair must certainly be known." 15 Pharaoh, too, heard of the affair and sought to put him to death. But Moses fled from him and stayed in the land of Midian. As he was seated there by a well, 16 seven daughters of a priest of Midian came to draw water and fill the troughs to water their father's flock.

                17 But some shepherds came and drove them away. Then Moses got up and defended them and watered their flock. 18 When they returned to their father Reuel, he said to them, "How is it you have returned so soon today?" 19 They answered, "An Egyptian saved us from the interference of the shepherds. He even drew water for us and watered the flock!" 20 "Where is the man?" he asked his daughters. "Why did you leave him there? Invite him to have something to eat." 21 Moses agreed to live with him, and the man gave him his daughter Zipporah in marriage. 22 She bore him a son, whom he named Gershom; for he said, "I am a stranger in a foreign land."

23 A long time passed, during which the king of Egypt died. Still the Israelites groaned and cried out because of their slavery. As their cry for release went up to God, 24 he heard their groaning and was mindful of his covenant with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. 25 He saw the Israelites and knew...

Message at the Angelus by Pope John Paul I (translated into English)

Sunday, 24 September 1978

                Yesterday afternoon I went to St. John Lateran. Thanks to the Romans, to the kindness of the Mayor and some authorities of the Italian Government, it was a joyful moment for me.

                On the contrary, it was not joyful but painful to learn from the newspapers a few days ago that a Roman student had been killed for a trivial reason, in cold blood. It is one of the many cases of violence which are continually afflicting this poor and restless society of ours.

                The case of Luca Locci, a seven-year-old boy kidnapped three months ago, has come up again in the last few days. People sometimes say: "we are in a society that is all rotten, all dishonest." That is not true. There are still so many good people, so many honest people. Rather, what can be done to improve society? I would say: let each of us try to be good and to infect others with a goodness imbued with the meekness and love taught by Christ. Christ's golden rule was: "do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself. Do to others what you want done to yourself." 'And he always gave. Put on the cross, not only did he forgive those who crucified him, but he excused them. He said: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." This is Christianity, these are sentiments which, if put into practice would help society so much.

                This year is the thirtieth anniversary of the death of Georges Bernanos, a great Catholic writer. One of his best-known works is "Dialogues of the Carmelites". It was published year after his death. He had prepared it working on a story of the German authoress, Gertrud von Le Fort. He had prepared it for the theatre.

                It went on the stage. It was set to music and then shown on the screens of the whole world. It became extremely well known. The fact, however, was a historical one. Pius X, in 1906, right here in Rome, had beatified the sixteen Carmelites of Compiègne, martyrs during the French revolution. During the trial they were condemned "to death for fanaticism". And one of them asked in her simplicity: "Your Honour, what does fanaticism mean?" And the judge: "It is your foolish membership of religion." "Oh, Sisters, she then said, did you hear, we are condemned for our attachment to faith. What happiness to die for Jesus Christ!"

                They were brought out of the prison of the Conciergerie, and made to climb into the fatal cart. On the way they sang hymns; when they reached the guillotine, one after the other knelt before the Prioress and renewed the vow of obedience. Then they struck up "Veni Creator"; the song, however, became weaker and weaker, as the heads of the poor Sisters fell, one by one, under the guillotine. The Prioress, Sister Theresa of St Augustine, was the last, and her last words were the following: "Love will always be victorious, love can do everything." That was the right word, not violence, but love, can do everything. Let us ask the Lord for the grace that a new wave of love for our neighbour may sweep over this poor world.

"Evangelho Segundo Jadar",Chapter XI by José Thiesen (in Portuguese)

                O povo foi escutar Jesus no dia seguinte e ele pregou dizendo assim: “Buscai primeiro e sempre as coisas do Reino de Deus e tudo o mais vos será dado com juros. É preciso e urgente que compreendais isso.

                “É preciso, pois que bem desta terra vos pode dar felicidade plena?

                “É urgente pois a morte vem como um ladrão, e se não buscastes as coisas de Deus nesta vida, como esperais encontra-las na outra por vir?

                “Louca é a noiva que não espera vigilante por seu noivo. Ele vem, não a encontra e segue adiante procurando outra.

                “Orai sempre e sempre, incessantemente, pedindo ao Pai que vos preserve do mal.

“Façai como aquela viúva pobre que clamava justiça a um juiz iníquo por todo o dia e toda a noite, até que o juiz disse para si mesmo: ‘vou atender esta mulher, não por eu ser bom, mas para que ela pare de importunar-me!’

“Ora, se vós que sois maus podeis fazer coisas boas e atender os pedidos de outrem, quanto mais pode fazer-vos Deus que é todo bem e santo?

“Quen de vós dará um escorpião ao filho que pediu um peixe? Julgais que Deus faça diferente? Em verdade vos digo que ao que pedir lhe será dado; quem buscar, encontrará; quem bater, terá a porta aberta.

“Em verdade, Deus vos ama desde o princípio e nem um só fio de cabelo cai de vossas cabeças sem que isso seja contado.”

Levantou-se então um homem que disse: “Mestre, ensina-nos a rezar!”

Respondeu-lhe Jesus: “Quando orardes, não façais como os fariseus e hipócritas que ostentam suas atitudes para serem admirados. Antes, recolhei-vos para o segredo de vossos quartos e o Pai, que tudo vê, estará convosco.

“Quando pedirdes, pedi em meu nome e o meu Pai não vos negará o pedido.

“Quando orardes, dizei assim:

‘Pai nosso que estás no céu,

Santificado seja o teu nome,

Da-nos o teu reino e que

Tua vontade seja feita na terra e no céu.

Da-nos o nosso pão de cada dia

E perdoa as nossas ofenças assim

Como nós perdoamos a quem nos ofende.

Não nos deixes ceder às tentações

Mas livra-nos de todo o mal,

Amém.’

Untitled Story by Hank Chapman (in English)

art by Syd Shores - Battle Brady #10 - Atlas Comics, January 1953.

Sonnet XXIV by William Shakespeare (in English)

Mine eye hath played the painter and hath steeled,
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;
My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
And perspective that is best painter's art.
For through the painter must you see his skill,
To find where your true image pictured lies,
Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.
Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me
Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun
Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;
   Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art,
   They draw but what they see, know not the heart.

"As Três Irmãs do Poeta" by E. Berthoud (translated into Portuguese)

(translated into Portuguese by Castro Alves)

É noite! as sombras correm nebulosas.
Vão três pálidas virgens silenciosas
Através da procela irrequieta.
Vão três pálidas virgens... vão sombrias
Rindo colar num beijo as bocas frias ...


Na fronte cismadora do — Poeta —


"Saúde, irmão! Eu sou a Indiferença.
Sou eu quem te sepulta a idéia imensa,
Quem no teu nome a escuridão projeta...
Fui eu que te vesti do meu sudário...
Que vais fazer tão triste e solitário?. . ."


— "Eu lutarei!" — responde-lhe o Poeta.


"Saúde, meu irmão! Eu sou a Fome.
Sou eu quem o teu negro pão consome...
O teu mísero pão, mísero atleta!
Hoje, amanhã, depois... depois (qu'importa?)
Virei sempre sentar-me à tua porta. . ."


— "Eu sofrerei" — responde-lhe o Poeta.


"Saúde, meu irmão! Eu sou a Morte.
Suspende em meio o hino augusto e forte.
Marquei-te a fronte, mísero profeta!
Volve ao nada! Não sentes neste enleio
Teu cântico gelar-se no meu seio?!"


— "Eu cantarei no céu" — diz-lhe o Poeta!