Não digas onde acaba o dia.
Onde começa a noite.
Não fales palavras vãs.
As palavras do mundo.
Não digas onde começa a Terra,
Onde termina o céu
Não digas até onde és tu.
Não digas desde onde és Deus.
Não fales palavras vãs.
Desfaze-te da vaidade triste de falar.
Pensa,completamente silencioso,
Até a glória de ficar silencioso,
Sem pensar.
Tuesday, 7 July 2015
Monday, 6 July 2015
"Tarzan of the Cows" by Michael O'Donoghue (in English)
art by Frank Springer. National Lampoon #11 - NL Communications, Inc, April 1971.
Saturday, 4 July 2015
"Desespoir" by Oscar Wilde (in English)
The seasons send their ruin as they go,
For in the spring the narciss shows its head
Nor withers till the rose has flamed to red,
And in the autumn purple violets blow,
And the slim crocus stirs the winter snow;
Wherefore yon leafless trees will bloom again
And this grey land grow green with summer rain
And send up cowslips for some boy to mow.
But what of life whose bitter hungry sea
Flows at our heels, and gloom of sunless night
Covers the days which never more return?
Ambition, love and all the thoughts that burn
We lose too soon, and only find delight
In withered husks of some dead memory.
For in the spring the narciss shows its head
Nor withers till the rose has flamed to red,
And in the autumn purple violets blow,
And the slim crocus stirs the winter snow;
Wherefore yon leafless trees will bloom again
And this grey land grow green with summer rain
And send up cowslips for some boy to mow.
But what of life whose bitter hungry sea
Flows at our heels, and gloom of sunless night
Covers the days which never more return?
Ambition, love and all the thoughts that burn
We lose too soon, and only find delight
In withered husks of some dead memory.
Friday, 3 July 2015
"The Garden Of Death" by Lord Alfred Douglas
There is an isle in an unfurrowed sea
That I wot of, whereon the whole year round
The apple-blossoms and the rosebuds be
In early blooming ; and a many sound
Of ten-stringed lute, and most mellifluous breath
Of silver flute, and mellow half-heard horn,
Making unmeasured music. Thither Death
Coming like Love, takes all things in the morn
Of tenderest life, and being a delicate god,
In his own garden takes each delicate thing
Unstained, unmellowed, immature, untrod,
Tremulous betwixt the summer and the spring :
The rosebud ere it come to be a rose,
The blossom ere it win to be a fruit,
The virginal snowdrop, and the dove that knows
Only one dove for lover ; all the loot
Of young soft things, and all the harvesting
Of unripe flowers. Never comes the moon
To matron fulness, here no child-bearing
Vexes desire, and the sun knows no noon.
But all the happy dwellers of that place
Are reckless children gotten on Delight
By Beauty that is thrall to Death ; no grace,
No natural sweet they lack, a chrysolite
Of perfect beauty each. No wisdom comes
To mar their early folly, no false laws
Man-made for man, no mouthing prudence numbs
Their green unthought, or gives their licence pause ;
Young animals, young flowers, they live and grow,
And die before their sweet emblossomed breath
Has learnt to sigh save like a lover's. Oh !
How sweet is Youth, how delicate is Death !
That I wot of, whereon the whole year round
The apple-blossoms and the rosebuds be
In early blooming ; and a many sound
Of ten-stringed lute, and most mellifluous breath
Of silver flute, and mellow half-heard horn,
Making unmeasured music. Thither Death
Coming like Love, takes all things in the morn
Of tenderest life, and being a delicate god,
In his own garden takes each delicate thing
Unstained, unmellowed, immature, untrod,
Tremulous betwixt the summer and the spring :
The rosebud ere it come to be a rose,
The blossom ere it win to be a fruit,
The virginal snowdrop, and the dove that knows
Only one dove for lover ; all the loot
Of young soft things, and all the harvesting
Of unripe flowers. Never comes the moon
To matron fulness, here no child-bearing
Vexes desire, and the sun knows no noon.
But all the happy dwellers of that place
Are reckless children gotten on Delight
By Beauty that is thrall to Death ; no grace,
No natural sweet they lack, a chrysolite
Of perfect beauty each. No wisdom comes
To mar their early folly, no false laws
Man-made for man, no mouthing prudence numbs
Their green unthought, or gives their licence pause ;
Young animals, young flowers, they live and grow,
And die before their sweet emblossomed breath
Has learnt to sigh save like a lover's. Oh !
How sweet is Youth, how delicate is Death !
Thursday, 2 July 2015
"The Book of Exodus" - Chapter III (translated into English)
Chapter 3
1 Meanwhile Moses was tending the flock of his
father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian. Leading the flock across the
desert, he came to Horeb, the mountain of God. 2
There an angel of the LORD appeared to him in fire flaming out of a bush. As he
looked on, he was surprised to see that the bush, though on fire, was not
consumed. 3 So Moses decided, "I must go
over to look at this remarkable sight, and see why the bush is not
burned." 4 When the LORD saw him coming
over to look at it more closely, God called out to him from the bush,
"Moses! Moses!" He answered, "Here I am." 5 God said, "Come no nearer! Remove the sandals
from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground. 6 I am the God
of your father," he continued, "the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac,
the God of Jacob." Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.
7 But the LORD said, "I have witnessed the
affliction of my people in Egypt and have heard their cry of complaint against
their slave drivers, so I know well what they are suffering. 8 Therefore I
have come down to rescue them from the hands of the Egyptians and lead them out
of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey,
the country of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites and
Jebusites. 9 So indeed the cry of the Israelites
has reached me, and I have truly noted that the Egyptians are oppressing them. 10 Come, now! I will send you to Pharaoh to lead my
people, the Israelites, out of Egypt."
11 But Moses said to God, "Who am I that I should
go to Pharaoh and lead the Israelites out of Egypt?" 12 He answered, "I will be with you; and this
shall be your proof that it is I who have sent you: when you bring my people
out of Egypt, you will worship God on this very mountain."
13 "But," said Moses to God, "when I go
to the Israelites and say to them, 'The God of your fathers has sent me to
you,' if they ask me, 'What is his name?' what am I to tell them?" 14 God replied, "I am who am." Then he
added, "This is what you shall tell the Israelites: I AM sent me to
you." 15 God spoke further to Moses,
"Thus shall you say to the Israelites: The LORD, the God of your fathers,
the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, has sent me to you.
"This is my name forever; this is my title for all generations.
16 "Go and assemble the elders of the Israelites,
and tell them: The LORD, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, Isaac and
Jacob, has appeared to me and said: I am concerned about you and about the way
you are being treated in Egypt; 17 so I have decided
to lead you up out of the misery of Egypt into the land of the Canaanites,
Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites, a land flowing with milk
and honey. 18 "Thus they will heed your
message. Then you and the elders of Israel shall go to the king of Egypt and
say to him: The LORD, the God of the Hebrews, has sent us word. Permit us,
then, to go a three days' journey in the desert, that we may offer sacrifice to
the LORD, our God. 19 "Yet I know that the
king of Egypt will not allow you to go unless he is forced. 20 I will stretch out my hand, therefore, and smite
Egypt by doing all kinds of wondrous deeds there. After that he will send you
away.
21 I will even make the Egyptians so well-disposed
toward this people that, when you leave, you will not go empty-handed. 22 Every woman shall ask her neighbor and her house
guest for silver and gold articles and for clothing to put on your sons and
daughters. Thus you will despoil the Egyptians."
Wednesday, 1 July 2015
Message of the General Audience of July 13th, 1963 by Pope Paul VI (in Italian and French)
Sabato, 13 luglio 1963
Figli e Figlie, tutti carissimi!
Si può dire che questa è la prima Udienza generale del Nostro Pontificato. Noi abbiamo già ricevuto molte persone e molti gruppi; ma voi siete i primi a offrire al Nostro incontro questa bella e grande moltitudine, che riflette nel suo numero e ancor più nella varietà dei gruppi che la compongono la cattolicità, cioè l’universalità della Chiesa. Siate tutti benvenuti e benedetti!
Noi desideriamo che questo incontro imprima nei vostri animi una duplice esperienza spirituale, l’una e l’altra veramente romane. Quella della paternità del Vicario di Cristo. Davvero il Nostro cuore è a voi aperto per tutti accogliervi, confortarvi e benedirvi. Vi diremo con S. Paolo: «Le nostre labbra sono aperte verso di voi..., il nostro cuore si è verso di voi dilatato» (cfr. 2 Cor. 6, 11). E poi quella della fraternità, che qui tutti vi congiunge in uno stesso vincolo di fede e di carità. Anche a questo riguardo, ancora S. Paolo c’insegna: «Tutti voi siete uno solo in Cristo» (Gal. 3, 28).
Noi vorremmo aver tempo e modo per salutare ogni gruppo ed ogni persona; ma ciò non è materialmente possibile!
Ci limitiamo a dare ad ogni lingua, come Ci è possibile, un paterno richiamo.
* * * * * * *
Dopo aver ripetuto Egli stesso il breve Discorso in francese, spagnuolo, tedesco e inglese, l’ Augusto Pontefice si compiace di rivolgere il seguente speciale saluto ai partecipanti al Terzo Congresso Internazionale Domenicano del Rosario:
Nous Nous adressons maintenant aux pèlerins francais parmi lesquels se trouvent ceux qui on participé au Troisième Congrès International Dominicain du Rosaire.
Nous avons déjà communiqué aux Congressistes Nos vceux et Notre Bénédiction; mais Nous aimons leur dire encore une fois ici combien Nous sommes heureux de la bonne réussite de leur Con-grès, auquel était proposé un thème général de grand intérêt et de grande actualité, à savoir: le Rosaire et la Pastorale.
Nous souhaitons que leurs travaux et leur activité puissent vraiment montrer que le Rosaire - comme il a été dit dans le sermon d’ouverture - est désormais une «dévotion de l’Eglise», qui, par son caractère populaire, par son esprit «christocentrique» et par la filiale dévotion qu’elle inspire envers la Vierge, peut ranimer la foi et la piété dans les milieux les plus différents et les plus ou-verts à l’action pastorale: paroisses, écoles, familles, hôpitaux . . . etc. . . .
A tous les méritants fils de Saint Dominique, organisateurs du Congrès, aux divers orateurs et à tous les congressistes va Notre par-ticulière et très paternelle Bénédiction Apostolique.
Figli e Figlie, tutti carissimi!
Si può dire che questa è la prima Udienza generale del Nostro Pontificato. Noi abbiamo già ricevuto molte persone e molti gruppi; ma voi siete i primi a offrire al Nostro incontro questa bella e grande moltitudine, che riflette nel suo numero e ancor più nella varietà dei gruppi che la compongono la cattolicità, cioè l’universalità della Chiesa. Siate tutti benvenuti e benedetti!
Noi desideriamo che questo incontro imprima nei vostri animi una duplice esperienza spirituale, l’una e l’altra veramente romane. Quella della paternità del Vicario di Cristo. Davvero il Nostro cuore è a voi aperto per tutti accogliervi, confortarvi e benedirvi. Vi diremo con S. Paolo: «Le nostre labbra sono aperte verso di voi..., il nostro cuore si è verso di voi dilatato» (cfr. 2 Cor. 6, 11). E poi quella della fraternità, che qui tutti vi congiunge in uno stesso vincolo di fede e di carità. Anche a questo riguardo, ancora S. Paolo c’insegna: «Tutti voi siete uno solo in Cristo» (Gal. 3, 28).
Noi vorremmo aver tempo e modo per salutare ogni gruppo ed ogni persona; ma ciò non è materialmente possibile!
Ci limitiamo a dare ad ogni lingua, come Ci è possibile, un paterno richiamo.
* * * * * * *
Dopo aver ripetuto Egli stesso il breve Discorso in francese, spagnuolo, tedesco e inglese, l’ Augusto Pontefice si compiace di rivolgere il seguente speciale saluto ai partecipanti al Terzo Congresso Internazionale Domenicano del Rosario:
Nous Nous adressons maintenant aux pèlerins francais parmi lesquels se trouvent ceux qui on participé au Troisième Congrès International Dominicain du Rosaire.
Nous avons déjà communiqué aux Congressistes Nos vceux et Notre Bénédiction; mais Nous aimons leur dire encore une fois ici combien Nous sommes heureux de la bonne réussite de leur Con-grès, auquel était proposé un thème général de grand intérêt et de grande actualité, à savoir: le Rosaire et la Pastorale.
Nous souhaitons que leurs travaux et leur activité puissent vraiment montrer que le Rosaire - comme il a été dit dans le sermon d’ouverture - est désormais une «dévotion de l’Eglise», qui, par son caractère populaire, par son esprit «christocentrique» et par la filiale dévotion qu’elle inspire envers la Vierge, peut ranimer la foi et la piété dans les milieux les plus différents et les plus ou-verts à l’action pastorale: paroisses, écoles, familles, hôpitaux . . . etc. . . .
A tous les méritants fils de Saint Dominique, organisateurs du Congrès, aux divers orateurs et à tous les congressistes va Notre par-ticulière et très paternelle Bénédiction Apostolique.
Tuesday, 30 June 2015
Sonnet XXV by William Shakespeare (in English)
Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars
Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foiled,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled:
Then happy I, that love and am beloved,
Where I may not remove nor be removed.
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars
Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foiled,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled:
Then happy I, that love and am beloved,
Where I may not remove nor be removed.
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