tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44165788611775527422023-11-16T03:34:59.399-03:00Mar de SophiaMariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-52460453843500915772012-02-07T09:20:00.001-02:002012-02-07T09:22:56.581-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4fHBb_rS1UZ0oQoVW_FwCdhTsy1eW6inShil-aJrt1StMuDPS3yNOX125XQi_2CxCOTq8RCRT7_zJUP9l7BmpayBVnaIkGsKJyuw_GidG5zHuJrWS79Ow_HsFP3khf3Z0BIh8eACovU0/s1600/00000001.jpg"><img style="width: 305px; height: 400px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706352336140519266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4fHBb_rS1UZ0oQoVW_FwCdhTsy1eW6inShil-aJrt1StMuDPS3yNOX125XQi_2CxCOTq8RCRT7_zJUP9l7BmpayBVnaIkGsKJyuw_GidG5zHuJrWS79Ow_HsFP3khf3Z0BIh8eACovU0/s400/00000001.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br />Chamo-Te<br /><br />Chamo-Te porque tudo está ainda no princípio<br />E suportar é o tempo mais comprido.<br /><br />Peço-Te que venhas e me dês a liberdade,<br />Que um só de Teus olhares me purifique e acabe.<br /><br />Há muitas coisas que não quero ver.<br /><br />Peço-Te que sejas o presente.<br />Peço-Te que inundes tudo.<br />E que o Teu reino antes do tempo venha<br />E se derrame sobre a Terra<br />Em Primavera feroz precipitado.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-25064471880330883042011-07-09T21:29:00.002-03:002011-07-09T21:40:59.862-03:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LTjr2rwku22Jl9Yr2mVP1WYjpkB6okNbJvj89XUE_j6zEo-7764tSISYRG-e4pKk-mf0EmP9EYFZigLzXLhda1JmVc8KDhPPMXCTCvteeh-9rpO5yhVAnskpY8CKkTBUIwD4m1i5Roi4/s1600/Alemanha+e+%25C3%2581ustria+105.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627514539848180930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LTjr2rwku22Jl9Yr2mVP1WYjpkB6okNbJvj89XUE_j6zEo-7764tSISYRG-e4pKk-mf0EmP9EYFZigLzXLhda1JmVc8KDhPPMXCTCvteeh-9rpO5yhVAnskpY8CKkTBUIwD4m1i5Roi4/s400/Alemanha+e+%25C3%2581ustria+105.JPG" /></a><br /><br />Aqui, deposta enfim a minha imagem,<br />Tudo o que é jogo e tudo o que é passagem.<br />No interior das coisas canto nua<br /><br />Aqui livre sou eu - eco da lua<br />E dos jardins, os gestos recebidos<br />E o tumulto dos gestos pressentidos<br /><br />Aqui sou eu em tudo quanto amei.<br />Não pelo meu ser que só atravessei,<br />Não pelo meu rumor que só perdi,<br />Não pelos incertos atos que vivi,<br /><br />Mas por tudo de quanto ressoei<br />E em cujo amor de amor me eternizei.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-44016933280384230742010-06-26T14:33:00.002-03:002010-06-26T14:37:58.035-03:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2qqogc9Q8Z4nP-Py8EoBodAcmE4YuxYzjTxS5ISWgl42KZsJ8A-obODhDfuBZcC86RQqbhJ0HI5YO-xsGvcb8EDkxw16Ah_BzMfWR50LQ91TM9SK3c06hU32jL2lC0KlloYDf9bsDvr0/s1600/blog+9.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487137098236446754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2qqogc9Q8Z4nP-Py8EoBodAcmE4YuxYzjTxS5ISWgl42KZsJ8A-obODhDfuBZcC86RQqbhJ0HI5YO-xsGvcb8EDkxw16Ah_BzMfWR50LQ91TM9SK3c06hU32jL2lC0KlloYDf9bsDvr0/s400/blog+9.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Porque os outros vão à sombra dos abrigos<br />E tu vais de mãos dadas com os perigos.<br />Porque os outros calculam mas tu não.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-8915905894639850892009-06-01T17:40:00.000-03:002009-06-01T17:42:10.354-03:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYo2y601AaA8jyEvPIbZz3t08BP0FTnhyphenhyphen2bRttcflYEtxLD7RI7HCF80BEaDEyuQTXvemgDxmy026EfWyJlkL3vUA5j3JsJ5Dsl2oodVsbXt8WCNiU7kvJLwIJpueINQYnNiU5oMDX0XfP/s1600-h/blog11.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342462071708289506" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYo2y601AaA8jyEvPIbZz3t08BP0FTnhyphenhyphen2bRttcflYEtxLD7RI7HCF80BEaDEyuQTXvemgDxmy026EfWyJlkL3vUA5j3JsJ5Dsl2oodVsbXt8WCNiU7kvJLwIJpueINQYnNiU5oMDX0XfP/s400/blog11.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />No ponto<br /><br />No ponto onde o silêncio e a solidão<br />Se cruzam com a noite e com o frio,<br />Esperei como quem espera em vão,<br />Tão nítido e preciso era o vazio.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-31047305956059236952009-05-30T15:00:00.001-03:002009-05-30T15:02:27.862-03:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU8PWy3vE3JZgkmElBTa7X_P8upxV19cFH6mvwoa6e0i-bqDi9mMCgPjTHMjsB5NKoer7rT8lQivIXqI4tOeYAKBYJc4t1a_m66cxRJzBIV74OhUNUgE32t4sw9aYQRV5ppQ3EMZ7r8n0M/s1600-h/ablog.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341678526873357346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU8PWy3vE3JZgkmElBTa7X_P8upxV19cFH6mvwoa6e0i-bqDi9mMCgPjTHMjsB5NKoer7rT8lQivIXqI4tOeYAKBYJc4t1a_m66cxRJzBIV74OhUNUgE32t4sw9aYQRV5ppQ3EMZ7r8n0M/s400/ablog.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Se tanto me dói que as coisas passem<br />É porque cada instante em mim foi vivo<br />Na luta por um bem definitivo<br />Em que as coisas de amor se eternizassem.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-23173970189263424952009-04-30T08:23:00.001-03:002009-04-30T08:25:17.063-03:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3O1P3Of4ZUmpQGu_UgSCLD4p1zQ8skV5CpwIygkfhXo49alNUY6FWtdAgG12zRBLHTwISCoSZ2AB52fVKmyqPy7YyU2FQqXsfwrDk0RqtZZLtbTwvY-yM8KhhDqdFtejAe_1zu6wBU9ST/s1600-h/blog3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330443720759796770" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 289px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3O1P3Of4ZUmpQGu_UgSCLD4p1zQ8skV5CpwIygkfhXo49alNUY6FWtdAgG12zRBLHTwISCoSZ2AB52fVKmyqPy7YyU2FQqXsfwrDk0RqtZZLtbTwvY-yM8KhhDqdFtejAe_1zu6wBU9ST/s400/blog3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Devagar no jardim<br /><br />Devagar no jardim a noite poisa<br />E o bailado dos seus passos<br />Liberta a minha alma dos seus laços<br />Como se de novo fosse criada cada coisa.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-62731790580438734422009-04-29T12:33:00.002-03:002009-04-29T12:37:02.161-03:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7p5jv-pWMCj5bnJko215kiREo7239ohD2b5gNr72jq4ao6iitRu2BPX1tY7nxN1GlTVWTuEKFFMDovsTtiflzXDKcUQDfYxzU-jUEeXL8J0bGUSy_NePR_H2VEZKdf6sRjabg2ddkNgEv/s1600-h/aa1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330137040653542130" style="WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7p5jv-pWMCj5bnJko215kiREo7239ohD2b5gNr72jq4ao6iitRu2BPX1tY7nxN1GlTVWTuEKFFMDovsTtiflzXDKcUQDfYxzU-jUEeXL8J0bGUSy_NePR_H2VEZKdf6sRjabg2ddkNgEv/s400/aa1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Pascoaes<br /><br />Aqui a bruma a noite o sete-estrelo<br />O sussurrar de brisas e de fonte<br />Aqui o tempo anterior puro horizonte<br />O ser um com a luz a flor o monte<br /><br />A terra se desvenda verso a verso<br />seu rosto é de pinhais sombras e mágoas<br />Aqui o puro emergir: luas e águas<br />E o antigo tempo irmão do universoMariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-59073455525885957802009-04-27T11:01:00.001-03:002009-04-27T11:03:37.101-03:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkSys1KnM_mTYheODweHkRpzBil-2wDUKWaGCAOB0bDJ-_5rmKXyQUkjYbuOLNUrVpsvywf7YVwlgl010mtySUDX5u9qJsmHBcUI_TuoTWbRziEZiJGPE2A2Lh2hr1kNO41wOU3TW230aA/s1600-h/blo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329371205737275042" style="WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 202px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkSys1KnM_mTYheODweHkRpzBil-2wDUKWaGCAOB0bDJ-_5rmKXyQUkjYbuOLNUrVpsvywf7YVwlgl010mtySUDX5u9qJsmHBcUI_TuoTWbRziEZiJGPE2A2Lh2hr1kNO41wOU3TW230aA/s400/blo.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Falamos juntos à luz. Lá fora a noite<br />Imóvel brilha sobre o mar parado.<br />À sombra das palavrs do teu rosto<br />Em mim se inscreve como se durasse.<br /><br /><br /><p> </p><p> </p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-37265524773822238502009-04-24T10:04:00.000-03:002009-04-24T10:05:42.617-03:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-e4rLL43Mwnp0aAlnig-tSdiPJDOcsmKkqigSgWEFiiN6AW7DYNag4aM9o7FcTLYhBHJ5PrTwuBVPmMXSUYsR7qKd1LX-nEcosqQyl7QrJwz2YXyxJ9FQff6aSwkAVLCEWtwU2ccerzHt/s1600-h/blog2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328243184242972434" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 282px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-e4rLL43Mwnp0aAlnig-tSdiPJDOcsmKkqigSgWEFiiN6AW7DYNag4aM9o7FcTLYhBHJ5PrTwuBVPmMXSUYsR7qKd1LX-nEcosqQyl7QrJwz2YXyxJ9FQff6aSwkAVLCEWtwU2ccerzHt/s400/blog2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Cá fora<br /><br />Abre a porta e caminha<br />Cá fora<br />Na nitidez salina do realMariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-58018542934967087282009-03-29T10:33:00.002-03:002009-03-29T10:41:06.971-03:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrUxH9RmAANpWJHSZnykmNmUoSfefPEIgZcregH2XXZw5Rp27MtfvF0a_7RRW9u_LNEjD5wXB1VaZp5wGTaAexWA8puCrK-jyeTSgX7shnlQ6eXGRbTfQYDFrTmloR4lH91OopfAbDPh6/s1600-h/pessoa.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318602509366540450" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 314px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrUxH9RmAANpWJHSZnykmNmUoSfefPEIgZcregH2XXZw5Rp27MtfvF0a_7RRW9u_LNEjD5wXB1VaZp5wGTaAexWA8puCrK-jyeTSgX7shnlQ6eXGRbTfQYDFrTmloR4lH91OopfAbDPh6/s400/pessoa.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Em Hydra, evocando Fernando Pessoa<br /><br />Quando na manhã de Junho o navio ancorou em Hydra<br />(E foi pelo som do cabo a descer que eu soube que ancorava)<br />Saí da cabine e debrucei-me ávida<br />Sobre o rosto do real - mais preciso e mais novo do que o<br />imaginado<br />Ante a meticulosa limpidez dessa manhã num porto<br />Ante a meticulosa limpidez dessa manhã num porto de uma<br />ilha grega<br /><br />Murmurei o teu nome<br />O teu ambíguo nome<br /><br />...<br /><br />O teu destino deveria ter passado neste porto<br />Onde tudo se torna impessoal e livre<br />Onde tudo é divino como convém ao realMariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-10628764098244631832009-03-28T11:41:00.001-03:002009-03-28T11:44:03.081-03:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnIEmTfO-WFu8mHnvSSZ1r-5utH-n9FvcEWWpoXq-P1RNrxVtMv6kepqq7_d1zFYET_u01WQpeOWtuEYm80c__fNO9uk8cfz_SCS7i7n_7YW-2xiLLTI5VR9gLUvNlbXk2cAWAasGJ0Oxw/s1600-h/sophia.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318248869417949746" style="WIDTH: 383px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnIEmTfO-WFu8mHnvSSZ1r-5utH-n9FvcEWWpoXq-P1RNrxVtMv6kepqq7_d1zFYET_u01WQpeOWtuEYm80c__fNO9uk8cfz_SCS7i7n_7YW-2xiLLTI5VR9gLUvNlbXk2cAWAasGJ0Oxw/s400/sophia.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Eu me perdi<br /><br />Eu me perdi na sordidez de um mundo<br />Onde era preciso ser<br />Polícia agiota fariseu<br />Ou cocote<br /><br />Eu me perdi na sordidez do mundo<br />Eu me salvei na limpidez da terra<br /><br />Eu me busquei no vento e me encontrei no mar<br />E nunca<br />Um navio da costa se afastou<br />Sem me levarMariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-44331646932237082812008-10-27T13:39:00.000-02:002008-10-27T13:41:10.948-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Hvof-bVTezNPk2YCU-Ro_89TFtubdM5Fu8h3qifvDq74Ui2K6t0fYPtojI30NWvYdYxi1XWuFaLoe3XLufCRL0GmgSID3bRRDBeayIyl45pHsHbUbSSyLYnieQJAZMGJHh1W3ta1x1yd/s1600-h/2978197884_49f5d44664.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261859002439776738" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Hvof-bVTezNPk2YCU-Ro_89TFtubdM5Fu8h3qifvDq74Ui2K6t0fYPtojI30NWvYdYxi1XWuFaLoe3XLufCRL0GmgSID3bRRDBeayIyl45pHsHbUbSSyLYnieQJAZMGJHh1W3ta1x1yd/s400/2978197884_49f5d44664.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Instante<br /><br />Deixai-me limpo<br />O ar dos quartos<br />E liso<br />O branco das paredes<br /><br />Deixai-me com as coisas<br />Fundadas no silêncioMariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-87383934622186031412008-07-20T11:34:00.001-03:002008-12-12T04:36:56.637-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-tjbdE_ktY4Ebaa6dIUfAfY1wl1xE7pJmH60w52pf_P6cykLabvquDmwAY7F0Pu_N1fhF97HUkocA0n3FfFbKqX7d4DgLjmAGnIxu4IbmQGJckeYK3SETyE0N5Mre6mhlLKq6ELMlVEm/s1600-h/mares.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225104652787922130" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-tjbdE_ktY4Ebaa6dIUfAfY1wl1xE7pJmH60w52pf_P6cykLabvquDmwAY7F0Pu_N1fhF97HUkocA0n3FfFbKqX7d4DgLjmAGnIxu4IbmQGJckeYK3SETyE0N5Mre6mhlLKq6ELMlVEm/s400/mares.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />25 de abril<br /><br />Esta é a madrugada que eu esperava<br />O dia inicial inteiro e limpo<br />Onde emergimos da noite e do silêncio<br />E livres habitamos a substância do tempoMariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-32906639640288663542008-07-16T07:34:00.000-03:002008-12-12T04:36:57.206-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Z8v5kkCVU7bArOFofWNNcoGPYtB2zzrENG8RXEwWE1H3QlXCXBmQF-PyMyoEUTWNKJP0w3t7IGN7cdjhIkrWtqEDK1DKvN1px-neBdAgL6Ty1tR-SA8dVLcpkC2-3vN-AJ3p2jHEvczB/s1600-h/acanto.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223558524003868082" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Z8v5kkCVU7bArOFofWNNcoGPYtB2zzrENG8RXEwWE1H3QlXCXBmQF-PyMyoEUTWNKJP0w3t7IGN7cdjhIkrWtqEDK1DKvN1px-neBdAgL6Ty1tR-SA8dVLcpkC2-3vN-AJ3p2jHEvczB/s400/acanto.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Inventei<br /><br />Inventei a dança para me disfarçar.<br />Ébria de solidão eu quis viver.<br />E cobri de gestos a nudez da minha alma<br />Porque eu era semelhante às paisagens esperando<br />E ninguém me podia entender.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-36767545790592636422008-06-25T11:30:00.000-03:002008-12-12T04:36:58.110-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUsakZd99oehjT-2rbmihMUhamqsMK7tAzhgUqYD0Mc8mcberfpUtWtcDxjC-EMcXT0R6WseINL3-xP-DpxWCro0MZt0hrOf36htsVYuXY9eWK2OtXReFoEVJYC0Zfo1tX-dTjQ53b8TOM/s1600-h/aliberdade.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215826457515326450" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUsakZd99oehjT-2rbmihMUhamqsMK7tAzhgUqYD0Mc8mcberfpUtWtcDxjC-EMcXT0R6WseINL3-xP-DpxWCro0MZt0hrOf36htsVYuXY9eWK2OtXReFoEVJYC0Zfo1tX-dTjQ53b8TOM/s400/aliberdade.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Procelária<br /><br />É vista quando há vento e grande vaga<br />Ela faz o ninho no rolar da fúria<br />E voa firme e certa como bala<br /><br />As suas asas empresta à tempestade<br />Quando os leões do mar rugem nas grutas<br />Sobre os abismos passa e vai em frente<br /><br />Ela não busca a rocha o cabo o cais<br />Mas faz da insegurança a sua força<br />E do risco de morrer seu alimento<br /><br />Por isso me parece a imagem justa<br />Para quem vive e canta no mau tempo.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-68607296645916120682008-06-20T13:24:00.001-03:002008-12-12T04:36:58.542-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8CyR_E0gSRB5aiH3FRpEYE3kXLmb4FjLkXQA2ZONe4jC6IsRZ5qtEO1qJwjlkoLwyF958DcgyY8mkj0fsRQhzgnSv9Dg47o6T5DaKbLoHq3yWPC0EqGuJHYfk-tg5pSoGTfNclV73bMhh/s1600-h/Torres.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214000425269311554" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8CyR_E0gSRB5aiH3FRpEYE3kXLmb4FjLkXQA2ZONe4jC6IsRZ5qtEO1qJwjlkoLwyF958DcgyY8mkj0fsRQhzgnSv9Dg47o6T5DaKbLoHq3yWPC0EqGuJHYfk-tg5pSoGTfNclV73bMhh/s400/Torres.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Senti que estava às portas do meu reino,<br />Entre as sombras brilhavam as paisagens<br />Que os meus sonhos antigos desejavam.<br />Mas o terror expulsou-me das imagens<br />Onde já os meus membros penetravam.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-21618606005388953322008-06-06T08:42:00.000-03:002008-12-12T04:36:58.779-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9QZp_uGCeZuzKHrNtm66HDmMixZBNxIamn7UeKWT0HxBexCLNzHgNsxOq-VVCsp3-r2lsXOsU3HiR-Jd8W_VG2uY2MerUKGqRoeNP1qjlExaSwpRWLUFjoXVhpQ8v62fOzWn3HxZ2sRMF/s1600-h/baleia.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208732633229012370" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9QZp_uGCeZuzKHrNtm66HDmMixZBNxIamn7UeKWT0HxBexCLNzHgNsxOq-VVCsp3-r2lsXOsU3HiR-Jd8W_VG2uY2MerUKGqRoeNP1qjlExaSwpRWLUFjoXVhpQ8v62fOzWn3HxZ2sRMF/s400/baleia.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Tudo<br /><br />Tudo me é uma dança em que procuro<br />A posição ideal,<br />Seguindo o fio dum sonhar obscuro<br />Onde invento o real.<br /><br />À minha volta sinto naufragar<br />Tantos gestos perdidos<br />Mas a alma, dispersa nos sentidos,<br />Sobe os degraus do ar...Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-32180992242898233182008-06-03T17:19:00.001-03:002008-12-12T04:36:58.948-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0_-sOOCsq95bLrLVkTPIPMf-HPvU1JOahQNc-bBTUeNyfuT29jLz_tQjI08GGGORMXFFkvV1J-lxh0-G3rTO1XFpRjTi24y8NCFRjCK2Fpb5996_3pW_phyphenhyphenR3ZtI_O-iB9qDKAlopEsdA/s1600-h/casa.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207752653254142866" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0_-sOOCsq95bLrLVkTPIPMf-HPvU1JOahQNc-bBTUeNyfuT29jLz_tQjI08GGGORMXFFkvV1J-lxh0-G3rTO1XFpRjTi24y8NCFRjCK2Fpb5996_3pW_phyphenhyphenR3ZtI_O-iB9qDKAlopEsdA/s400/casa.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> Em nome<br /><br />Em nome da tua ausência<br />Construí com loucura uma grande casa branca<br />E ao longo das paredes te choreiMariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-27318627612362457402008-05-29T11:01:00.002-03:002008-12-12T04:36:59.191-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQmQB6ZI5IVfnwzU25p86pgTq4JZfws3bsX_mpupQj5jLAkADQYsGQcLUqY4ZZV7C8zVHqg8ygz4dO1OmUfCmMTcRkCe1yVKxtfSPJmFWn74WVwXAP6MijrC9IxjJMJwKYkh43ZJ5zVPB4/s1600-h/sophia.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205799746854702610" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQmQB6ZI5IVfnwzU25p86pgTq4JZfws3bsX_mpupQj5jLAkADQYsGQcLUqY4ZZV7C8zVHqg8ygz4dO1OmUfCmMTcRkCe1yVKxtfSPJmFWn74WVwXAP6MijrC9IxjJMJwKYkh43ZJ5zVPB4/s400/sophia.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />No alto mar<br /><br />No alto mar<br />A luz escorre<br />Lisa sobre a água.<br />Planície infinita<br />Que ninguém habita.<br /><br />O Sol brilha enorme<br />Sem que ninguém forme<br />Gestos na sua luz.<br /><br />Livre e verde a água ondula<br />Graça que não modula<br />O sonho de ninguém.<br /><br />São claros e vastos os espaços<br />Onde baloiça o vento<br />E ninguém nunca de delícia ou de tormento<br />Abre neles os seus braços.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-5332188697348680322008-05-24T13:05:00.001-03:002008-12-12T04:36:59.390-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLRhtV_G3-5sHIkW60KxaOCfDExrJtfc-HaeI_hYLBsvMOC1QRVXPNCdITsyGuK2yzivOrVvvviE_wlzu5HAVri-zMPmkHnWKmqzlLF9MuI3RzaB4MNhe-1VM6XIUvtxPIIRK2iaqeEtH/s1600-h/mardesophia.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203976352848924162" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLRhtV_G3-5sHIkW60KxaOCfDExrJtfc-HaeI_hYLBsvMOC1QRVXPNCdITsyGuK2yzivOrVvvviE_wlzu5HAVri-zMPmkHnWKmqzlLF9MuI3RzaB4MNhe-1VM6XIUvtxPIIRK2iaqeEtH/s400/mardesophia.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Reino<br /><br />Reino de medusas e água lisa<br />Reino de silêncio luz e pedra<br />Habitação das formas espantosas<br />Coluna de sal e círculo de luz<br />Medida da Balança misteriosaMariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-85134698587655456762008-05-20T17:45:00.001-03:002008-12-12T04:36:59.533-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEUaC50xvlFOGkWQQgJpr_gFmTVYUd0BRj7-EribqSiu4wbMFhemBSIYts-l_O0c1-MZYAb7VW8a6EPhg24sginStxSG1KldaJesINPe3V9zUuesQ9AD_0lLSjlMUYvpzw3XAYnWDO-fk/s1600-h/luz.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202564109472889954" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEUaC50xvlFOGkWQQgJpr_gFmTVYUd0BRj7-EribqSiu4wbMFhemBSIYts-l_O0c1-MZYAb7VW8a6EPhg24sginStxSG1KldaJesINPe3V9zUuesQ9AD_0lLSjlMUYvpzw3XAYnWDO-fk/s400/luz.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />A luz e a casa<br /><br />Em redor da luz<br />Com sombras e brancos<br />A casa se procura<br /><br />Minhas mãos quase tocam<br />O branco respirar<br />Da sua atenção puraMariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-34445926866757711112008-05-16T12:03:00.002-03:002008-12-12T04:36:59.950-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMdFWUTEhpdtVhPJbaYP7fCmibqzm3dNI6loVW8fA9fWC2CYXpjonzWPeIg7oC4XAYt8P4ItUDBRXs1HphOjy5828_Gmzy2-Ku88DKYNv7g1sRFXGPoRoOxgdDWk4JupsVsXEnAHFbqPWG/s1600-h/mares.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200991558737067090" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMdFWUTEhpdtVhPJbaYP7fCmibqzm3dNI6loVW8fA9fWC2CYXpjonzWPeIg7oC4XAYt8P4ItUDBRXs1HphOjy5828_Gmzy2-Ku88DKYNv7g1sRFXGPoRoOxgdDWk4JupsVsXEnAHFbqPWG/s400/mares.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />As fontes<br /><br />Um dia quebrarei todas as pontes<br />Que ligam o meu ser vivo e total,<br />À agitação do mundo irreal,<br />E calma subirei até às fontes.<br /><br />Irei até às fontes onde mora<br />A plenitude, o límpido esplendor<br />Que me foi prometido em cada hora,<br />E na face incompleta do amor.<br /><br />Irei beber a luz e o amanhecer<br />Irei beber a voz dessa promessa<br />Que às vezes como um voo me atravessa,<br />E nela cumprirei todo o meu ser.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-84779592846589965022008-05-15T09:15:00.002-03:002008-12-12T04:37:00.104-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZw4LjIlr9FYHHUGB4t-TSHcATJlVuodb8Rap-_jJxJsuGd7vgiH5vxymXAURMor_Jl9aSXJn-q_uZFqM7HTKwQXyj1NWwVyDfBMBWJrryX2Nqde2jhhLdeQadlSOZeJx5XOsQCKrC_3tH/s1600-h/nuvens.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200577107277904962" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZw4LjIlr9FYHHUGB4t-TSHcATJlVuodb8Rap-_jJxJsuGd7vgiH5vxymXAURMor_Jl9aSXJn-q_uZFqM7HTKwQXyj1NWwVyDfBMBWJrryX2Nqde2jhhLdeQadlSOZeJx5XOsQCKrC_3tH/s400/nuvens.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Sacode as nuvens<br /><br />Sacode as nuvens que te poisam nos cabelos,<br />Sacode as aves que te levam o olhar.<br />Sacode os sonhos mais pesados do que as pedras.<br /><br />Porque eu cheguei e é tempo de me veres,<br />Mesmo que os meus gestos te trespassem<br />De solidão e tu caias em poeira,<br />Mesmo que a minha voz queime o ar que respiras<br />E os teus olhos nunca mais possam olhar.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-8410781370228051362008-03-02T11:11:00.005-03:002008-12-12T04:37:00.276-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeEnnkUAfAMlNZLgSmOJB6WLki0nw1relAGSjX-dKpcsb2bBU21_egm5-WsPNPtyT5DaVFhsnzcLS8zX9VNKc0hV2H4LhlCwwm7sv2D9ZEclQQ9Y3eCDqh-QculhpN1yZChzftPMTzoDky/s1600-h/pes.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173147091029212226" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeEnnkUAfAMlNZLgSmOJB6WLki0nw1relAGSjX-dKpcsb2bBU21_egm5-WsPNPtyT5DaVFhsnzcLS8zX9VNKc0hV2H4LhlCwwm7sv2D9ZEclQQ9Y3eCDqh-QculhpN1yZChzftPMTzoDky/s400/pes.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Pooema perdido<br /><br />Porque eu trazia rios de frescura<br />E claros horizontes de pureza<br />Mas tudo se perdeu ante a secura<br />De combater em vão<br /><br />E as arestas finas e vivas do meu reino<br />São o claro brilhar da solidão.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416578861177552742.post-66128736309513409452008-03-02T10:58:00.004-03:002008-12-12T04:37:00.380-02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38UQju7DSBhyphenhyphen5hWUoj6E9wUafvtxU-PQkhXOMpXqF0TLzNnmecMLeLlu1VCMNFlU_Lek6zKUGxwIHE9RwDNQXEJ_SpBKi9gfFUgd0o7IE8ZBxKjS1JdVUF4gyvWDwPTAlo_cQ8I2qEBUS/s1600-h/flores.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173143573450996786" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38UQju7DSBhyphenhyphen5hWUoj6E9wUafvtxU-PQkhXOMpXqF0TLzNnmecMLeLlu1VCMNFlU_Lek6zKUGxwIHE9RwDNQXEJ_SpBKi9gfFUgd0o7IE8ZBxKjS1JdVUF4gyvWDwPTAlo_cQ8I2qEBUS/s400/flores.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Flores<br /><br />Era preciso agradecer às flores<br />Terem guardado em si.<br />Límpida e pura,<br />Aquela promessa antiga<br />De uma manhã futura.Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559084438167260856noreply@blogger.com0