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"Tales for The Ones in Love"

An international blog about literature and ecocriticism. Here I include my own lyrics, by Rui M. and also the work of others, from 4 to 24 each month 2018: new contributions sent to ruiprcar@gmail.com Periodical Art contests and Critics. Thanks. Arigatou

"Tales for The Ones in Love"

An international blog about literature and ecocriticism. Here I include my own lyrics, by Rui M. and also the work of others, from 4 to 24 each month 2018: new contributions sent to ruiprcar@gmail.com Periodical Art contests and Critics. Thanks. Arigatou

01.09.18

1st September 2018

talesforlove

This is a blog dedicated to literature and nature, based in Portugal, so it is fully justified to look at Spain. We went to see how the writer Cervantes (of Don Quijote de la Mancha) marked this country. We went to Anadalucia and we noticed how its main city, Seville, honors its writers. We saw beautiful plains, warm, like fire, and flowers hung in beautiful pots,  next to monuments with poetic gardens.

 

andalucia1eng.jpg

andalucia2eng.jpg

andalucia3eng.jpg

 

 

This poetic nature reminds us of Peru, with Leo Rojas (El Condor Pasa) and his music always very sister of the forest and the wild mountains.

 

 

 

 

And all this makes us remember Emily Dickinson and Massachussets.

Here we have more about her:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/emily-dickinson

 

 

We end with a poem from Poland, by Eliza S.

 

Translated by Artur Komoter

 

Just for a Moment

 

If the world stopped for a moment,

I could sit,

listen to the silence that becomes,

watch how

a river stops flowing,

how the trees congeal into motionlessness.

 

If the world stopped for a moment,

and I with it?

I would not see

flowering meadows,

where a river becomes just a line,

and the still trees

look like sculptures,

I would not hear the ubiquitous silence.

 

If the world stopped

even for one day

then people –

could not hurt people.

 

Tylko na chwilę

 

Gdyby świat zatrzymał się na chwilę,

mogłabym usiąść,

posłuchać jak staje się cisza,

patrzeć jak

rzeka przestaje płynąć,

jak drzewa zastygają w bezruchu.

 

Gdyby świat zatrzymał się na chwilę,

a ja razem z nim?

Nie widziałabym

ukwieconych łąk,

na których rzeka staje się tylko linią,

a nieruchome drzewa

wyglądają jak rzeźby,

nie słyszałabym wszechobecnej ciszy.

 

Gdyby świat zatrzymał się

choć na jeden dzień

wtedy ludzie –

nie mogliby krzywdzić ludzi.

 

Translation to Portuguese by Rui M.

 

Apenas por um momento

Se o mundo parasse por um momento,
Eu poderia sentar-me
ouvir o silêncio que surgiria
e observar como
um rio pára de fluir
e como as árvores se detêm em gélido imobilismo.

Se o mundo parasse por um momento,
e eu com ele?
Eu não veria
prados floridos,
onde um rio se torna apenas uma linha,
e as árvores imóveis
fossem semelhantes a esculturas,
Eu não ouviria o silêncio omnipresente e total.

Se o mundo parasse
mesmo por um dia
então as pessoas -
não poderiam ferir as pessoas.

 

 

 

Bests.

 

29.12.17

Fires in California

talesforlove

Forest fires in California have been an example of climate change. We can not forget this situation and above all we can not become indifferent people. We have here a video that aims to encourage our individual work in such a way that we will all achieve something positive. For example, if each one of us plants a tree and water it we will do a lot and even if we can sow some trees, it would be excellent.

And don't forget to submit your writing to our Contest "Nature 2017-2018"

 

About trees and hope Music by Mattia Cupelli "Touch"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_JYHk_D5A44

 

 

 

15.02.14

Always The Hour of Goodbye

talesforlove

Of the sunset, of the tearing look, the forbidden pray,

Of the last Sunday, the sun at the end of the day...

Of the early afternoon, the steamy fireplace of the past,

Of the thirst in the mouth, to which saliva opposes at last...

 

Last hour, sad, of promises that are weakening,

Of the Phoenix for ever dead, of the universe on the horizon of the world.

And inside the smooth and stiff hand, there is the wood of the Carpenter. People suffer.

Only the empty freedom remains, by law, drifting in the deep ocean...

09.02.13

Life and literature 3

talesforlove

Good afternoon friends,

One example that seems evident when we think about the preceding text, it seems to me, the case of horror movies. In reality, reality itself can contain many of the elements of a horror film, for example, the death of family members, illness, violent assaults and even, these days the lack of jobs and forced emigration. This output of the "comfort zone" that some people refer ... the same people that don't know what they're talking about. That said, it seems peaceful to admit that someone who likes horror movies have a quiet life as the surface of a lake in late Summer .. that envy. See you soon and have a quiet life, without horror movies (or horror literature)

30.11.09

The Sacred Ant - Last part

talesforlove

 

After one and a half hour, walking like seeking a fugitive killer, we were exhausted and decided to contradict the thirst that we were feeling, with fresh and clear water of a fountain... that we had never seen before. So far we were from our home! Just then we become conscious of the situation. But… and how could we return?! At the labyrinth of the forest the anxiety, didn't permitted us to prepare ourselves. In the meanwhile, our insatiable juvenile curiosity, of children, was drinking at the fountain of beauty of that place. It was hypnotic: made of granite tinged brown by time, the heat of the Summer and the ice of the Winter. The narrow foundation, when compared with the height, about two metres, and that natural terrace, covered with dry leaves, were saying, using their language: "That was an enchanted place, from many years ago… since the limits of memory." That water running there impressed me, because it was full of willingness that time did not subjugate. That fountain of life with its soft pace, made us recover the courage to proceed. João had fear, he wanted to return, but not alone… because of that he remained with us. Half an hour climbing the mountain, using the most interesting path that we could have chosen… in stairs of stone that sometimes appeared along the way surrounded by some lime-trees, among them some with an intense smell of honey, made us very tired. We had to return. Next to the harsh hours of sun, there was the beginning of the afternoon. We lied down, on the bed made of earth and looked to the sky, together with the top of the trees, that were moving together with the warm breeze, like a blessing, and involved by the climbing plant that also was involving the slopes that were surrounding us.
 
I got up and seated not far away, playing with a stick, making drawings on the earth dust and noticing some of my confidants, that were also there. And I prayed… with all my strength… I closed my eyes and embraced my two knees, with my left arm, on my legs. I put together my feet, burning with blisters and some wounds made during the long walk, already covered with white dust. With the right hand I was still drawing, using the stick, figures without face. It was in this position that I prayed… in silence, on the balance of the wind. Until he, with an abrupt sign, observed all around me, as if it were already enough and I could already open my eyes.
Pedro couldn't continue looking the sky and was delirious... or better saying, his head was spinning: — Water… Water… — he whispered. He seated and was attentive to me, when I got benumbed and immobilized, in amazement after discovering an ant coming in a small path, right in front of me and when she was next to me stopped, stared at me during a short period of time and continued her journey. She was carrying a piece of tissue of Maria's dress. I was overwhelmed and got up, looked to the forest, in the direction of the worker of God and with part of my body numbed, I saw who my eyes were seeking without stopping, even with no hope, but just with conviction.
— Maria! Maria! — Pedro and João rose up and came to me.
— How can we take her from there? — Asked Pedro and immediately after João said: — She's dead! Ho my God…
Then I confessed: — I love her. God would not permit such a thing! — She was laying down as a star on the firmament, that seemed to me to be like a natural mattress of blackberry bushes… but, she had some colour on her face… it looked like sleeping. Without fear, as someone who recovers life, we jumped to hug her and we transported her, still unconscious, to the village. A two hours walk, through the forest and previous enchantment but now we sensed time differently, shorter than that of the clock pointers, that we didn't have, but also shorter than the clock sun, marked with trunks of the forest, with shadows on the floor and little after at the corn fields, that happy, due to the novelty, waved at us as a welcoming sign. Pedro even tied his special thread to a three centimetres beetle that started to fly, although caught by a yarn. She was a common inhabitant of the oaks. There we were, laughing about everything!
 
When the end of the day arrived, happiness was everywhere. Maria recovered… and the party of that night brought there people of the nearest places and even from others more distant. No one reprehended us. Like children we were able to read the map of Maria's innocence and we found her… On that night, when boys of a neighbour village, as a revenge because a girl didn't wanted to dance with them, broke with stoning all lights, the darkness and only she, saw my first kiss with Maria: sweeter than any sweet. We were not together because we had fear to loose ourselves and today, I feel that, because of that day, we live together: the two of us… with our children.
 
I also told them this story.
 
The end

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