quarta-feira, 1 de janeiro de 2014

Surpresa de Natal

Há muitos anos, minha mãe, Zoé, era professora de um colégio interno para crianças do Interior. Situado em Porto Alegre, era a saída para famílias carentes proporcionarem uma educação de bom nível para seus filhos. No final do ano, os pais davam um jeito de buscar suas crianças para passarem Natal e Ano-Novo com eles.
Num certo ano, uma família não teve condições de buscar a menina, de uns oito anos, filha única. O pai havia falecido e a família estava enfrentando muitas dificuldades. Minha mãe, entendendo o sofrimento e a saudade da pequena e para não deixá-la sozinha no colégio, a trouxe para passar o Natal em nossa casa.
Mesa posta, luzes, risadas, presentes. Então, tocou a campainha e todos ficamos muito surpresos, não estávamos esperando ninguém. Era a mãe da menina, que a minha mãe havia providenciado que viesse de longe para que, naquele ano, já tão cheio de sofrimento, as duas pudessem compartilhar ao menos dessa alegria. Até hoje esta história nos emociona, colorindo o Natal com a generosidade e o carinho da dona Zoé.

chic, eu! saiu na Zero Hora de 24/25 de dezembro de 2013

quinta-feira, 12 de setembro de 2013

Anos de terapia e não aprendi nada.
Então, numa manhã, leio uma coluna do Zé Pedro Goulart na ZH e ta-daaa!
Captei, querido mestre...
No final:
(O Ponteiro que se Move escreve; e tendo escrito,

Prossegue. Nem toda a tua devoção, ou Astúcia,

Conseguirá induzi-lo a cancelar meia Linha.

Nem todo o teu Pranto, apagar uma letra do que foi dito.

Kurt Vonnegut)

ok, tudo bem, mas não é K.V. 
É
The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám
FitzGerald's quatrain LI (in his 1st edition)

Some for the glories of this world; and some

Sigh for The Prophet's Paradise to come;
Ah, take the cash and let the credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum

And much as Wine has played the Infidel

And robbed me of my robe of Honour, well ...
I often wonder what the vintners buy
One half so precious as the stuff they sell

For some we loved, the loveliest and best

That from His rolling vintage Time has pressed,
Have drunk their glass a round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest

But helpless pieces in the game He plays

Upon this chequer-board of Nights and Days
He hither and thither moves, and checks ... and slays
Then one by one, back in the Closet lays

"The Moving Finger writes: and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it."

quinta-feira, 30 de setembro de 2010

Saudades

Saudades

 Some like it hot!

vi com a Mãe, no cinema... era um dos filmes que ela mais gostava
hj com a morte do Tony Curtis, lembrei daquele dia
e este é, para mim, um dos melhores diálogos do cinema, ainda mais considerando a época em que foi filmado - 1959 - Jack Lemmon e Joe E. Brown:

Jerry: Oh no you don't! Osgood, I'm gonna level with you. We can't get married at all.
Osgod: Why not?
Jerry:
I smoke! I smoke all the time!
Osgood
: I don't care.
Jerry
: Well, I have a terrible past. For three years now, I've been living with a saxophone player.
Osgood: I forgive you.
Jerry
: [Tragically] I can never have children!
Osgood: We can adopt some.
Jerry: But you don't understand, Osgood!
[Pulls of wig]
Jerry: I'm a man!
Osgood
: Well, nobody's perfect!

sábado, 14 de agosto de 2010

Both sides now

Both Sides Now

Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It's cloud illusions I recall
I really don't know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As ev'ry fairy tale comes real
I've looked at love that way

But now it's just another show
You leave 'em laughing when you go
And if you care, don't let them know
Don't give yourself away

I've looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
It's love's illusions I recall
I really don't know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say "I love you" right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I've looked at life that way

But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I've changed
Well something's lost, but something's gained
In living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all

I've looked at life from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all

joni mitchell

segunda-feira, 7 de junho de 2010

The Tiger

1757-1827

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,

And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?