On fait une courte pause / Taking a short break - I'll be back (até já)





Hapi's sibling - iseetheriverbeforeme - Flowing in Prayer form



a greyish blue matter flows
blinded by its own margins, innocent,    
not worrying whence it came nor where it goes.         *
it is in no hurry. 
perhaps fully aware that it's truly another form of itself  
in a state of fluidity, 
fruition of a love well spent
upon a weak body.

An apparent amorphic compound  -
It is,
in all its forms and frailties
a pure form of its multitudinous self.




___________________________

*where - *whither: 
for time's fluidity along its banks,
for it is but a word, weathered, but not a changeling
  




 (by: Maria MFA Costa - aka: Guida Almeida) 
the above words taken from
http://guidarte.blogspot.pt/2013/04/manuel-antonio-pina-gesualdo-e-ab-ovo-i.html



for its verbally *fugued version - here





FR ►
Une matière bleue grisâtre coule
aveuglé par ses propres marges , innocent , 
ne pas se demander d'où il vient ni où il va . 

Elle n'est pas pressée . 
-   peut-être pleinement consciente qu'elle est vraiment
une autre forme d'elle-même dans un état de fluidité 
fruit d'un amour assez usé sur un corps faible. 


Un composé apparemment amorphe :
Elle est,
sous toutes ses formes et fragilités,
une forme pure de son être multitudinaire.


 
..................................................................................


 I leave here a short playlist - by "Longitude Zero" 








Here below is a short playlist with some concerts I enjoy.
(or click here if you wish to view the list of concerts below)

 Deixo seguidamente uma "playlist" com alguns dos  muitos concertos que aprecio.









Sonnets from the Portuguese
XIX
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–1861)
         THE SOUL’S Rialto hath its merchandise;
            I barter curl for curl upon that mart,
        And from my poet’s forehead to my heart
      Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,—
         As purply black, as erst to Pindar’s eyes        
      The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart
 The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart,
       The bay-crown’s shade, Belovèd, I surmise,
             Still lingers on thy curl, it is so black!
         Thus, with a fillet of smooth-kissing breath,       
           I tie the shadows safe from gliding back,
           And lay the gift where nothing hindereth;
         Here on my heart, as on thy brow, to lack
      No natural heat till mine grows cold in death.









I also leave you with a piece that is very dear to me 





Still Life (still life?) - India ink on paper
©Guida Almeida


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