Troubled Water

The Crucifixion of Saint Andrew (1607) - Caravaggio "No dia seguinte Joäo estava outra vez ali, e dois dos seus discípulos; E, vendo passar a Jesus, disse: Eis aqui o Cordeiro de Deus. E os dois discípulos ouviram-no dizer isto, e seguiram a Jesus. E Jesus, voltando-se e vendo que eles o seguiam, disse-lhes: Que buscais? E eles disseram: Rabi (que, traduzido, quer dizer Mestre), onde moras? Ele lhes disse: Vinde, e vede. Foram, e viram onde morava, e ficaram com ele aquele dia; e era já quase a hora décima. Era André , irmäo de Simäo Pedro, um dos dois que ouviram aquilo de Joäo, e o haviam seguido. Este achou primeiro a seu irmäo Simäo, e disse-lhe: Achamos o Messias (que, traduzido, é o Cristo). E levou-o a Jesus. E, olhando Jesus para ele, disse: Tu és Simäo, filho de Jonas; tu serás chamado Cefas (que quer dizer Pedro).   No dia seguinte quis Jesus ir à Galiléia, e achou a Filipe, e disse-lhe: Segue-me. E Filipe era de Betsaida, cidade de André e de Pedro. Filipe...

«La tarde siguiente, leí en The Guardian que durante la noche catorce vagabundos, a causa del frío, habían muerto, o crepado, estirando sin rencor sus veintitantas vagabundas patas inglesas, en pleno corazón de la ciudad de Londres. Hicieron no sé cuántos grados Farenheit; calculo que serían unos diez grados bajo cero, penique más, penique menos. En el hotel me pegué un baño de inmersión y calentito y con el agua hasta la nariz leí en la edición internacional de Clarín las hermosas noticias de mi patria. Quise volver. Al día siguiente 'volé a Bonn y de allí fui a Copenhague. Al cuarto día estaba lo más campante en Londres y no bien me instalé en el hotel quise encontrar a mi Muchacha Punk . No tenía su teléfono; su nombre no figura en el directorio de la vieja ciudad. Corrí a su casa. Me recibió amistosamente Ferdinand, el novio de la hermana: mi Muchacha estaba en New York visitando a la madre y de allí saltaría a Zambia, para reunirse con el padre. volvería recién a f...

“Poor Willie - running out - ah well - can't be helped - just one of those old things - another of those old things - just can't be cured - cannot be cured - ah yes - poor dear Willie - good Lord! - good God! - ah well - no worse - no better, no worse - no change - no pain - hardly any - great thing that - nothing like it - pure ... what? - what? - ah yes - poor Willie - no zest - for anything - no interest - in life - poor dear Willie - sleep for ever - marvellous gift - in my opinion - always said so - wish I had it.” “Wait for the happy day to come when flesh melts at so many degrees and the night of the moon has so many hundred hours.” Happy Days - Samuel Beckett

How did I get here (I heard a rumour) From your girlfriend's sister (That you knew me) And you end up dancing (Close up to me) I know that I broke the rule already She asked me if I'm single Going steady I just trod my head and took a step off into the dark Standing on the block of my tires Don't dance on the lights because the bears eat the pretty ones We are like the islands divided Jump to the beat of the party line Jump to the beat of the party line There is no one in here but your body dear Jump to the beat of the party line Stay You stay I am on this morning quite distracted The talk of all begins and our emotion I am leaving many people feeling Worse than before People like to drive the cars and smoke up People like to sit inside and toke up People like to shoot at things with borrowed guns And knives I am happy to look and run Where were you when I was king in this part of town Now the days of glory are gone Jum...

Truth Unveiled by Time (Bernini) «Generalizando, diremos que uma verdade só existe propriamente para quem dela tem falta, que uma ciência não é ciência senão para quem empenhadamente a procura; enfim, que a Metafísica não é Metafísica senão para quem dela necessita. Para quem dela não necessita, para quem não a procura, a Metafísica é uma série de palavras, ou, se se preferir, de ideias; ideias que, embora possamos julgar tê-las entendido, carecem definitivamente de sentido. Isto é, para entender verdadeiramente algo, e sobretudo a Metafísica, não faz falta ter isso a que se chama talento nem possuir grandes sabedorias prévias. O que faz falta é uma condição elementar mas fundamental: o que faz falta é necessitar dela. Há certamente diversas formas de necessidade, de falta. Se alguém inexoravelmente me obriga a fazer alguma coisa, fá-lo-ei necessariamente e, no entanto, a necessidade deste meu fazer não é minha, não surgiu em mim, antes me foi imposta a partir de fora. Pel...

Strung out on the highway, the car inverted. What are you but a drum and a tube and a wire, black heart? A fire in the dark? I have no statement for your benefit, young man, Except this: we all will live again in the eyes of an actor And the light on the glass. So let me see that ass, hey hey hey! Sorceress, valkyrie, you let you let yourself believe. Sorceress, come clean, you let you let yourself believe That there is nothing to lose, There is nothing to lose, there is nothing to lose. Remember when I told you all about the father-ghost? He whispers at you when you try to pull, “You’re an imbecile and your limbs carry lumber, your limbs carry lumber.” The shadow of violence is the shepherd of sense The shadow of violence is the shepherd of sense, and when I hit the fence I had a hand on the wheel and a hand on the dial. Man on trial, hey hey hey! Alpentine - In Conflit

O branch and diadem of the kings purple, you who are in your enclosure like a breastplate: Burgeoning, you blossomed after another fashion than Adam gave rise to the whole human race. Hail hail from your womb came another life of which Adam had stripped his sons. O flower, you did not spring from tew nor from drops of rain nor did the air fly over you but the divine radiance brought you forth on a most noble branch O branch God had foreseen your flowering on the first day of his creation and he made you for his word. As a golden matrix O praiseworthy Virgin. O strength of Wisdom who, circling, circled, enclosing all in one lifegiving path, three wings you have: one soars to the heights, one distils its essence upon the earth, and the third is everywhere. Praise to you, as is fitting, O Wisdom. International Society of Hildegard von Bingen Studies

As pessoas sensíveis não são capazes De matar galinhas Porém são capazes De comer galinhas O dinheiro cheira a pobre e cheira À roupa do seu corpo Aquela roupa Que depois da chuva secou sobre o corpo Porque não tinham outra O dinheiro cheira a pobre e cheira A roupa Que depois do suor não foi lavada Porque não tinham outra «Ganharás o pão com o suor do teu rosto» Assim nos foi imposto E não: «Com o suor dos outros ganharás o pão» Ó vendilhões do templo Ó construtores Das grandes estátuas balofas e pesadas Ó cheios de devoção e de proveito Perdoai-lhes Senhor Porque eles sabem o que fazem Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen, in 'Livro Sexto'

You can get lost in the music for hours, honey, You can get lost in a room. We can play music for hours and hours But the sun'll still be coming up soon The world's just spinning A little too fast If things don't slow down soon we might not last. So just for the moment, let's be still. The world's not forgiving Of everyone's fears. The days turn into months, the months turn into years. So just for the moment, let's be still There tearing down So we can rebuild And all this time Is just circles in my mind So just for a moment, Just one moment, Just for a moment let's be still Just for a moment let's be still Just for a moment let's be still Just for a moment let's be still.

The flower of my anger grows wild and everyone sees its thorn piercing the sky so that blood drips from my sun growing the flower of my bitterness from this grass that washes my feet my bread o Lord the vain flower that is choked in the wheel of the night the flower of my wheat Lord the flower of my soul God despise me I am sick from this flower that blooms red in my brain over my sorrow. My vision torments me Lord and torment makes my heart into a blackbird that does not sing and my writing on the sky someone else's grass o Lord the star torments me that floats through my sleep with death and morming's pure soul Lord my vision sees what depresses You and makes my children's tears into blood o Lord my visions sees the house of walls and the world's pain perfectly and doesn't know how to help itself like the tree in winter that silently fells me my world my happiness my weeping. o my God I don't know anymore where...

It's a God awful small affair To the girl with the mousey hair, But her mummy is yelling, "No!" And her daddy has told her to go, But her friend is no where to be seen. Now she walks through her sunken dream To the seats with the clearest view And she's hooked to the silver screen, But the film is sadd'ning bore For she's lived it ten times or more. She could spit in the eyes of fools As they ask her to focus on Sailors Fighting in the dance hall. Oh man! Look at those cavemen go. It's the freakiest show. Take a look at the lawman Beating up the wrong guy. Oh man! Wonder if he'll ever know He's in the best selling show. Is there life on Mars? It's on America's tortured brow That Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow. Now the workers have struck for fame 'Cause Lennon's on sale again. See the mice in their million hordes From Ibeza to the Norfolk Broads. Rule Britannia is out of bounds To my mother, my do...

  "But they are at peace."   Never to weary more, nor suffer sorrow,— Their strife all over, and their work all done: At peace—and only waiting for the morrow; Heaven's rest and rapture even now begun.   So tired once! long fetter'd, sorely burden'd, Ye struggled hard and well for your release; Ye fought in faith and love—and ye are guerdon'd, O happy souls! for now ye are at peace.   No more of pain, no more of bitter weeping! For us a darkness and an empty place, Somewhere a little dust—in angels' keeping— A blessèd memory of a vanish'd face. For us the lonely path, the daily toiling, The din and strife of battle, never still'd; For us the wounds, the hunger, and the soiling,— The utter, speechless longing, unfulfill'd.   For us the army camp'd upon the mountains, Unseen, yet fighting with our Syrian foes,— The heaven-sent manna and the wayside fountains, The hope and promise, sw...