"Égalité-Fraternité" by Henri Cazalis (in French)

Zig et zig et zag, la mort en cadence

Frappant une tombe avec son talon,

La mort à minuit joue un air de danse,

Zig et zig et zag, sur son violon.

Le vent d'hiver souffle, et la nuit est sombre,

Des gémissements sortent des tilleuls ;

Les squelettes blancs vont à travers l'ombre

Courant et sautant sous leurs grands linceuls,

Zig et zig et zag, chacun se trémousse,

On entend claquer les os des danseurs,

Un couple lascif s'assoit sur la mousse

Comme pour goûter d'anciennes douceurs.

Zig et zig et zag, la mort continue

De racler sans fin son aigre instrument.

Un voile est tombé ! La danseuse est nue !

Son danseur la serre amoureusement.

La dame est, dit-on, marquise ou baronne.

Et le vert galant un pauvre charron – Horreur !

Et voilà qu'elle s'abandonne

Comme si le rustre était un baron !

Zig et zig et zig, quelle sarabande!

Quels cercles de morts se donnant la main !

Zig et zig et zag, on voit dans la bande

Le roi gambader auprès du vilain!

Mais psit ! tout à coup on quitte la ronde,

On se pousse, on fuit, le coq a chanté

Oh ! La belle nuit pour le pauvre monde !

Et vive la mort et l'égalité !

The Lord's Prayer (in English)

from The Gospel according to St. Matthew

The Holy Bible: King James Version.

Matt 6:5-15

5 And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.

6 But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.

7 But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking.

8 Be not ye therefore like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him.

9 After this manner therefore pray ye:

            Our Father which art in heaven,

            Hallowed be thy name.

       10 Thy kingdom come.

            Thy will be done

            in earth, as it is in heaven.

       11 Give us this day our daily bread.

       12 And forgive us our debts,

            as we forgive our debtors.

       13 And lead us not into temptation,

            but deliver us from evil:

For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

14 For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you:

15 but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.

"The Shepherd's Boy" by Aesop (translated into English)

     There was once a young shepherd Bboy who tended his sheep at the foot of a mountain near a dark forest. It was rather lonely for him all day, so he thought upon a plan by which he could get a little company and some excitement. He rushed down towards the village calling out "wolf, wolf," and the villagers came out to meet him, and some of them stopped with him for a considerable time. This pleased the boy so much that a few days afterwards he tried the same trick, and again the villagers came to his help. But shortly after this a wolf actually did come out from the forest, and began to worry the sheep, and the boy of course cried out "wolf, wolf," still louder than before. But this time the villagers, who had been fooled twice before, thought the boy was again deceiving them, and nobody stirred to come to his help. So the wolf made a good meal off the boy's flock, and when the boy complained, the wise man of the village said: "A liar will not be believed, even when he speaks the truth."

"The Vampire Strikes!" by Unknown Writer (in English)

art from Al Avison - from All Winners Comics Vol.1 #5, 1942.

"Reinações de Narizinho" by Monteiro Lobato (in Portuguese)

extract from Reinações de Narizinho.

Numa casinha branca, lá no sítio do Pica-pau Amarelo, mora uma velha de mais de sessenta anos. Chama-se dona Benta. Quem passa pela estrada e a vê na varanda, de cestinha de costura ao colo e óculos de ouro na ponta do nariz, segue seu caminho pensando:

— Que tristeza viver assim tão sozinha neste deserto...

Mas engana-se. Dona Benta é a mais feliz das vovós, porque vive em companhia da mais encantadora das netas — Lúcia, a menina do narizinho arrebitado, ou Narizinho como todos dizem.

Narizinho tem sete anos, é morena como jambo, gosta muito de pipoca e já sabe fazer uns bolinhos de polvilho bem gostosos.

Na casa ainda existem duas pessoas — tia Nastácia, negra de estimação que carregou Lúcia em pequena, e Emília, uma boneca de pano bastante desajeitada de corpo. Emília foi feita por tia Nastácia, com olhos de retrós preto e sobrancelhas tão lá em cima que é ver uma bruxa. Apesar disso Narizinho gosta muito dela; não almoça nem janta sem a ter ao lado, nem se deita sem primeiro acomodá-la numa redinha entre dois pés de cadeira.

Além da boneca, o outro encanto da menina é o ribeirão que passa pelos fundos do pomar. Suas águas, muito apressadinhas e mexeriqueiras, correm por entre pedras negras de limo, que Lúcia chama as “tias Nastácias do rio”.

Todas as tardes Lúcia toma a boneca e vai passear à beira d’água, onde se senta na raiz dum velho ingazeiro para dar farelo de pão aos lambaris.

Não há peixe do rio que a não conheça; assim que ela aparece, todos acodem numa grande faminteza. Os mais miúdos chegam pertinho; os graúdos parece que desconfiam da boneca, pois ficam ressabiados, a espiar de longe. E nesse divertimento leva a menina horas, até que tia Nastácia apareça no portão do pomar e grite na sua voz sossegada:

— Narizinho, vovó está chamando!...

"Chanson" by Alfred de Mussert (in Portuguese)

Translated into Portuguese by Castro Alves.

Disse a meu peito, a meu pobre peito:

- Não te contentas com um só amante?

Pois tu não vês que êste mudar constante

Gasta em desejos o prazer do amor?

Êle respondeu: - Não! não me contento;

Não me contento com um só amante.

Pois tu não vês que êste mudar constante

Empresta aos gozos um melhor sabor?

Disse a meu peito, a me pobre peito:

- Não te contentas desta dor errante?

Pois tu não vês que êste mudar constante

A cada passo só nos traz a dor?

Êle respondeu: - Não! não me contento,

Não me contento desta dor errante...

Pois tu não vês que êste mudar constante

Empresta às mágoas um melhor sabor?

Hamlet's Soliloquy by William Shakespeare (in English)

from "Hamlet", Act 3, Scene 1.

 To be, or not to be: that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause: there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office and the spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscover'd country from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,

And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons

Be all my sins remember'd.