Bandeira 4 (ilustrado)


Esse veio daqui


Profundamente
Por Manuel Bandeira

Quando ontem adormeci
Na noite de São João
Havia alegria e rumor
Estrondos de bombas luzes de Bengala
Vozes, cantigas e risos
Ao pé das fogueiras acesas.

No meio da noite despertei
Não ouvi mais vozes nem risos
Apenas balões
Passavam, errantes

Silenciosamente
Apenas de vez em quando
O ruído de um bonde
Cortava o silêncio
Como um túnel.
Onde estavam os que há pouco
Dançavam
Cantavam
E riam
Ao pé das fogueiras acesas?

— Estavam todos dormindo
Estavam todos deitados
Dormindo
Profundamente.

*

Quando eu tinha seis anos
Não pude ver o fim da festa de São João
Porque adormeci

Hoje não ouço mais as vozes daquele tempo
Minha avó
Meu avô
Totônio Rodrigues
Tomásia
Rosa
Onde estão todos eles?
— Estão todos dormindo
Estão todos deitados
Dormindo
Profundamente.

A Reading from ‘The Hand of Glory’ The Antidote—classic poetry for modern life


The Hand of Glory
By Richard Harris Barham

On the lone bleak moor,
At the midnight hour,
Beneath the Gallows Tree,
Hand in hand
The Murderers stand
By one, by two, by three!
And the Moon that night
With a gray, cold light
Each baleful object tips;
One half of her form
Is seen through the storm,
The other half ‘s hid in Eclipse!
And the cold Wind howls,
And the Thunder growls,
And the Lightning is broad and bright;
And altogether
It’s very bad weather,
And an unpleasant sort of a night!
“Now mount who list,
And close by the wrist
Sever me quickly the Dead Man’s fist!
Now climb who dare
Where he swings in air,
And pluck me five locks of the Dead Man’s hair!”

As a festival of fright and laughter, Halloween is our annual celebration of the Romantic spirit. Fear takes us on a journey into a higher reality; laughter brings us back to earth with a bump. The combination of the two means we can open and close our eyes to the beyond, without being blinded by its glare.

For me, the perfect Halloween poem comes from “The Ingoldsby Legends,” a wonderful hodgepodge of verse and tall tales written by a bored country cleric in 19th century England. At the time, the book was a huge hit, going through a number of editions, before lapsing into obscurity.

I only heard of it from a passing reference in Rider Haggard’s adventure classic “King’s Solomon’s Mines.” Opening up a second-hand copy, I was plunged headlong into the rollicking yarn, “The Hand of Glory.”

The legend of the hand of glory states that if you light a dead man’s hand the smoke will paralyze all those who inhale the fumes. This grisly candle features in the Hammer film, “The Wicker Man,” and even appears in “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets,” where it is one of the uncanny objects in the Dark Arts shop Borgin & Burkes, visited by Draco Malfoy in the nefarious Knockturn Alley.

The poem begins by setting the scene, where all the classic elements of horror are present and correct. We are on the “lone bleak moor,” where we can almost hear the gnashing of the wind. It is, unsurprisingly, midnight—and a hanged man swings from the gallows. Three murderers have come for his bloodless hand. If we’re searching for a spine-tingling tale, what more could we ask for?

Half-eclipsed, the moon casts its “gray, cold light” on the dismal landscape. As the “wind howls” and the “thunder growls” the passage seems to build towards a vision of complete nightmare. And when we reach the word “altogether,” we expect a revelation of unimaginable and unmentionable evil.

Instead, the speaker adds, “It’s very bad weather,” as if reading the weather forecast! Terror turns into nothing more than tutting disapproval and the contrast evokes shrieks of laughter rather than fear. This technique of pulling the rug from underneath our feet is repeated throughout the poem, as if the speaker is struggling to keep a straight face.

Now we hear the voice of one of the murderers coming through the storm. He challenges those who “list” (meaning “listen”) “to sever the dead man’s wrist.” The use of triple rhyme gives his words a marvelous swing and ring, and the final line, “And pluck me five locks of the dead man’s hair” rounds off the passage with tremendous, lip-smacking relish. Who could resist the temptation to say the words aloud in a suitably sinister voice?

The poem goes to describe how the murderers meet the local witch, whose most grotesque feature seems to be her bad taste in hats. They all go off to Tappington Hall, burn the Hand of Glory and burst in. Upstairs, an old miser is counting his money and is suddenly frozen in place. The murderers kill him and take his treasure—and we are treated to a ghoulish description of the gore-drenched corpse, “carotid and jugular both cut through!”

However, in the morning, the man’s little pug dog tracks the murderers down “with his little pug nose,” sniffing out the fat goose feast they are enjoying at the local inn. At the end, the fiends are hanged, and the witch is carried off by the Grim Reaper himself. The poem concludes on perhaps the funniest moment of all, when the speaker drolly describes this tallest of tales as “this truest of stories.”

This is poetry proud to be purple and just made to be performed. So if you can, look up the whole poem online and print it out. Light a candle, dim the lights and share with your family and friends on Halloween. There will be fright and laughter galore.

The Reverend Richard Harris Barham (1788–1845) was a curate in the Church of England. The “Ingoldsby Legends” was originally published under the pseudonym Thomas Ingoldsby.

Christopher Nield is a poet living in London.

http://www.theepochtimes.com/n2/arts-entertainment/the-antidote-a-reading-from-the-hand-of-glory-63410.html

O açúcar – Ferreira Gullar


O branco açúcar que adoçará meu café
nesta manhã de Ipanema
não foi produzido por mim
nem surgiu dentro do açucareiro por milagre.
Vejo-o puro
e afável ao paladar
como beijo de moça, água
na pele, flor
que se dissolve na boca. Mas este açúcar
não foi feito por mim.

Este açúcar veio
da mercearia da esquina e tampouco o fez o Oliveira, dono da mercearia.
Este açúcar veio
de uma usina de açúcar em Pernambuco
ou no Estado do Rio
e tampouco o fez o dono da usina.

Este açúcar era cana
e veio dos canaviais extensos
que não nascem por acaso
no regaço do vale.

Em lugares distantes, onde não há hospital
nem escola,
homens que não sabem ler e morrem de fome
aos 27 anos
plantaram e colheram a cana
que viraria açúcar.

Em usinas escuras,
homens de vida amarga
e dura
produziram este açúcar
branco e puro
com que adoço meu café esta manhã em Ipanema.

Sól (Sun)


Sól (sun)

I’m Sol, and I was born in January.

13 Idus (Ides) Idibus Ianuariis

Idus, Ides—thought to have originally been the day of the full moon, was the 13th day of most months, but the 15th day of March, May, July, and October.

Coincidence? 😉

“Sunne” redirects here. For the Swedish town, see Sunne, Sweden.

A depiction of Máni and Sól (1895) by Lorenz Frølich.

Sól (Old Norse “Sun”)[1] or Sunna (Old High German, and existing as an Old Norse and Icelandic synonym: see Wiktionary sunna, “Sun”) is the Sun personified in Germanic mythology. One of the two Old High German Merseburg Incantations, written in the 9th or 10th century CE, attests that Sunna is the sister of Sinthgunt. In Norse mythology, Sól is attested in the Poetic Edda, compiled in the 13th century from earlier traditional sources, and the Prose Edda, written in the 13th century by Snorri Sturluson.

In both the Poetic Edda and the Prose Edda she is described as the sister of the personified moon, Máni, is the daughter of Mundilfari, is at times referred to as Álfröðull, and is foretold to be killed by a monstrous wolf during the events of Ragnarök, though beforehand she will have given birth to a daughter who continues her mother’s course through the heavens. In the Prose Edda, she is additionally described as the wife of Glenr. As a proper noun, Sól appears throughout Old Norse literature. Scholars have produced theories about the development of the goddess from potential Nordic Bronze Age and Proto-Indo-European roots.

Norse attestations

Poetic Edda

In the poem Völuspá, a dead völva recounts the history of the universe and foretells the future to the disguised god Odin. In doing so, the völva recounts the early days of the universe, in which:

Benjamin Thorpe translation:

The sun from the south, the moon’s companion,
her right hand cast about the heavenly horses.
The sun knew not where she a dwelling had,
the moon know not what power he possessed,
the stars knew not where they had a station.[3]
Henry Adams Bellows translation:

The sun, the sister of the moon, from the south
Her right hand cast over heaven’s rim;
No knowledge she had where her home should be,
The moon knew not what might was his,
The stars knew not where their stations were.[4]

In the poem Vafþrúðnismál, the god Odin tasks the jötunn Vafþrúðnir with a question about the origins of the sun and the moon. Vafþrúðnir responds that Mundilfari is the father of both Sól and Máni, and that they must pass through the heavens every day to count the years for man:

Mundilfæri hight he, who the moon’s father is,
and eke the sun’s;
round heaven journey each day they must,
to count years for men.[5]
“Mundilferi is he who began the moon,
And fathered the flaming sun;
The round of heaven each day they run,
To tell the time for men.”[6]

In a stanza Vafþrúðnismál, Odin asks Vafþrúðnir from where another sun will come from once Fenrir has assailed the current sun. Vafþrúðnir responds in a further stanza, stating that before Álfröðull (Sól) is assailed by Fenrir, she will bear a daughter who will ride on her mother’s paths after the events of Ragnarök.[7]

In a stanza Vafþrúðnismál, Odin asks Vafþrúðnir from where another sun will come from once Fenrir has assailed the current sun. Vafþrúðnir responds in a further stanza, stating that before Álfröðull (Sól) is assailed by Fenrir, she will bear a daughter who will ride on her mother’s paths after the events of Ragnarök.[7]

The Chariot of the Sun by W. G. Collingwood

In a stanza of the poem Grímnismál, Odin says that before the sun (referred to as “the shining god”) is a shield named Svalinn, and if the shield were to fall from its frontal position, mountain and sea “would burn up”. In stanza 39 Odin (disguised as Grimnir) says that both the sun and the moon are pursued through the heavens by wolves; the sun, referred to as the “bright bride” of the heavens, is pursued by Sköll, while the moon is pursued by Hati Hróðvitnisson.[8]

In the poem Alvíssmál, the god Thor questions the dwarf Alvíss about the sun, asking him what the sun is called in each of the worlds. Alvíss responds that it is called “sun” by mankind, “sunshine” by the gods, “Dvalinn‘s deluder” by the dwarves, “everglow” by the jötnar, “the lovely wheel” by the elves, and “all-shining” by the “sons of the Æsir“.[9]

Prose Edda

“The Wolves Pursuing Sol and Mani” (1909) by J. C. Dollman.

Sól is referenced in the Prose Edda book Gylfaginning, where she is introduced in chapter 8 in a quote from stanza 5 of Völuspá. In chapter 11 of Gylfaginning, Gangleri (described as King Gylfi in disguise) asks the enthroned figure of High how the sun and moon are steered. High describes that Sól is one of the two children of Mundilfari, and states that the children were so beautiful they were named after the sun (Sól) and the moon (Máni). Mundilfari has Sól married to a man named Glenr.[10]

High says that the gods were “angered by this arrogance” and that the gods had the two placed in the heavens. There, the children were made to drive the horses Arvak and Alsvid that drew the chariot of the sun. High says that the gods had created the chariot to illuminate the worldsfrom burning embers flying from the fiery world of Muspelheim. In order to cool the horses, the gods placed two bellows beneath their shoulders, and that “according to the same lore” these bellows are called Ísarnkol.[11]

“Far away and long ago” (1920) by Willy Pogany.

In chapter 12 of Gylfaginning, Gangleri tells High that the sun moves quickly, almost as if she were moving so quickly that she fears something, that she could not go faster even if she were afraid of her own death. High responds that “It is not surprising that she moves with such speed. The one chasing her comes close, and there is no escape for her except to run.” Gangleri asks who chases her, to which High responds that two wolves give chase to Sól and Máni. The first wolf, Sköll, chases Sól, and despite her fear, Sköll will eventually catch her.Hati Hróðvitnisson, the second wolf, runs ahead of Sól to chase after Máni, whom Hati Hróðvitnisson will also catch.[11] In chapter 35, Sól’s status as a goddess is stated by High, along with Bil.[12]

In chapter 53, High says that after the events of Ragnarök, Sól’s legacy will be continued by a daughter that is no less beautiful than she, who will follow the path she once rode, and, in support, Vafþrúðnismál stanza 47 is then quoted.[13]

In the Prose Edda book Skáldskaparmál, Sól is first presented in chapter 93, where the kennings “daughter of Mundilfæri”, “sister of Máni”, “wife of Glen”, “fire of sky and air” are given for her, followed by an excerpt of a work by the 11th century skald Skúli Þórsteinsson:

God-blithe bedfellow of Glen
steps to her divine sanctuary
with brightness; then descends the good
light of grey-clad moon.[14]

In chapter 56, additional names for Sól are given; “day-star”, “disc”, “ever-glow”, “all-bright seen”, “fair-wheel”, “grace-shine”, “Dvalinn‘s toy”, “elf-disc”, “doubt-disc”, and “ruddy”.[15] In chapter 58, following a list of horses, the horses Arvakr and Alsviðr are listed as drawing the sun,[16] and, in chapter 75, Sól is again included in a list of goddesses.

Theories

 The Trundholm sun chariot from the Nordic Bronze Age, discovered in Denmark.

Regarding Sól’s attested personifications in Norse mythology, John Lindow states that “even kennings like ‘hall of the sun’ for sky may not suggest personification, given the rules of kenning formation”; that in poetry only stanzas associated with Sól in the poem Vafþrúðnismál are certain in their personification of the goddess; and “that Sól is female and Máni male probably has to do with the grammatical gender of the nouns: Sól is feminine and Máni is masculine.” Lindow states that, while the sun seems to have been a focus of older Scandinavian religious practices, it is difficult to make a case for the placement of the sun in a central role in surviving sources for Norse mythology.[7]

Rudolf Simek states that Nordic Bronze Age archaeological finds, such as rock carvings and the Trundholm sun chariot, provide ample evidence of the sun having been viewed as a life-giving heavenly body to the Bronze Age Scandinavians, and that the sun likely always received an amount of veneration. Simek states that the only evidence of the sun assuming a personification stems from the Old High German Incantation reference and from Poetic Edda poems, and that both of these references do not provide enough information to assume a Germanic sun cult. “On the other hand”, Simek posits, the “great age of the concept is evident” by the Trundholm sun chariot, which specifically supports the notion of the sun being drawn across the sky by horses. Simek further theorizes that the combination of sun symbols with ships in religious practices, which occur with frequency from the Bronze Age into Middle Ages, seem to derive from religious practices surrounding a fertility god (such as the Vanir gods Njörðr or Freyr), and not to a personified sun.[15]

Theories have been proposed that Sól, as a goddess, may represent an extension of an earlier Proto-Indo-European deity due to Indo-European linguistic connections between Norse Sól, Sanskrit Surya, Gaulish Sulis, Lithuanian Saulė, and Slavic Tsar Solnitse.[16]

See also

Solveig, an Old Norse female given name that may involve the sun.


Name Proto-Germanic Old English Old Norse
*Sōwilō Siȝel Sol
Sun
Shape Elder Futhark Futhorc Younger Futhark
Runic letter sowilo.svg Runic letter sowilo variant.svg Long-branch Sol.png
Unicode

U+16CA

U+16CB

U+16CC
Transliteration s
Transcription s
IPA [s]
Position in rune-row 16 11
  • Sunday, a day of the week named after the sun in Germanic societies.

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Sol was the solar deity in Ancient Roman religion. He became identified with Janus at an early period, and only in the late Roman Empire re-appears as an independent Sun god, as Sol Invictus.

Etymology

The Latin sol for “Sun” is the continuation of the PIE heteroclitic *Seh2ul- / *Sh2-en-, cognate to Germanic Sol, Sanskrit Surya, Greek Helios, Lithuanian Saulė.[1] also compare Latin “solis” to Etruscan “usil“.

Identification with Janus

According to Roman sources, the worship of Sol was introduced by Titus Tatius.[2] Still in the Roman kingdom period, Sol came to be identified with Janus. Janus and Jana were worshipped as Sun and Moon, and were regarded as the highest of the gods, receiving their sacrifices before all the others.[3] Numa introduced the month Ianuarius (The word “Ianuarius” is the original Roman designation of the month January. The name is either derived from the two-faced Roman god Janus, from the Latin word ianua, which means “door”, or it is the masculine form of Diana, which would be Dianus or Ianus (Janus).

Traces of the worship of Sol Indiges, i.e. a deity Sol as independent from Janus, are scarce.

Sol Indiges

Sol Indiges (“the native sun” or “the invoked sun” – the etymology and meaning of the word “indiges” is disputed) represents the earlier, more agrarian form in which the Roman god Sol was worshipped. It was later replaced by Sol Invictus.
See also Di indigetes.

Sol Invictus

Main article: Sol Invictus

Sol Invictus (“Unconquered Sun”) was the Roman state-supported sun god created by the emperor Aurelian in 274 and continued, overshadowing other Eastern cults in importance,[4] until the abolition of paganism under Theodosius I. Although known as a god, the term “Unconquered Sun God’ is not found on any Roman document.

disc of Sol Invictus, Roman, 3rd century, found at Pessinus(British Museum)

The Romans held a festival on December 25 of Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, “the birthday of the unconquered sun.” December 25 was the date after the winter solstice,[5] with the first detectable lengthening of daylight hours. There was also a festival on December 19.[6]

The title Sol Invictus had also been applied to a number of other solar deities before and during this period. The type of Sol Invictus, though not the name, appears on imperial coinage from the time of Septimius Severus onwards.[7]

Though many Oriental cults were practised informally among the Roman legions from the mid-second century, only that of Sol Invictus was officially accepted and prescribed for the army.[8]

References

1.^ see e.g. EIEC, p. 556.

  1. ^ August. de Civ. Dei, iv. 23
  2. ^ Macrobius Saturnalia i. 9; Cicero De Natura Deorum ii. 27
  3. ^ Allan S. Hoey, “Official Policy towards Oriental Cults in the Roman Army” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association, 70, (1939:456-481) p 479f.
  4. ^ When Julius Caesar introduced the Julian Calendar in 45 BC, December 25 was approximately the date of the solstice. In modern times, the solstice falls on December 21 or 22.
  5. ^ “An inscription of unique interest from the reign of Licinius embodies the official prescription for the annual celebration by his army of a festival of Sol Invictuson December 19” (Hoey 1939:480 and note 128).
  6. ^ Hoey 1939:470, 479f and notes.
  7. ^ Hoey 1939:456.

Retrieved from “http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sol_(mythology)

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See also:

  1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solar_symbol
  2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aurora_(mythology)
  3. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Solar_goddesses
  4. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solar_deity
  5. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winged_sun
  6. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eos
  7. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eosphorus

A Reading of ‘Song’ by William Blake, by Christopher Nield


Song

Memory, hither come,
And tune your merry notes;
And, while upon the wind
Your music floats,

I’ll pore upon the stream
Where sighing lovers dream,
And fish for fancies as they pass
Within the watery glass.

I’ll drink of the clear stream,
And hear the linnet’s song;
And there I’ll lie and dream
The day along:

And, when night comes, I’ll go
To places fit for woe,
Walking along the darkened valley
With silent Melancholy.

—William Blake (1757–1827)

In Greek mythology, Memory is the mother of the muses. There would be no literature, science, or art without her. Taking this further, we can say there would be no selfhood, or, indeed, civilization without her magical and mysterious power to enchant.

In this poem, Blake calls upon memory to inspire him. This moment is repeated whenever a poet puts pen to paper and writes with an awareness of what the great canonical presences of the past have said, whether Homer, Virgil, or Shakespeare.

Memory’s “merry notes” sound like celestial music “upon the wind,” and through each line, Blake makes us hear its strange ancestral cadence too. Each time we read a poem, we connect with the ghosts of all the generations who have formed the language we speak. Through poetry’s rhythms and rhymes, we catch the promise that, like music, the universe is full of echoes. Each part somehow reflects the whole.

Blake promises that he will “pore upon the stream,” fishing for “fancies” in the “glass,” as if gazing deep within a crystal ball, where images gather and disperse. The vision of the stream applies both to music and the cool, still, rippling of water. In the flow and flux of our consciousness, fragments of the past and the speculative future mingle with our reason, emotion, and creativity—ever moving, ever miraculous.

I’m reminded of a wonderful passage from “Out of the Silent Planet” by C.S. Lewis, in which the alien Hyoi reminds the human Ransom of the essential connection between memory, meaning, and time: “A pleasure is full grown only when it is remembered. You are speaking … as if the pleasure were one thing and the memory another. It is all one thing … When you and I met, the meeting was over very shortly, it was nothing. Now it is growing something as we remember it. But still we know very little about it. What it will be when I remember it as I lie down to die, what it makes in me all my days till then—that is the real meaning. The other is only the beginning of it. You say you have poets in your world. Do they not teach you this?”

This meeting applies to our first encounter with a poem. We read it through, a few things catch our eye, and we put it down. It may not touch us at all. We may not even remember any of it. Yet at each occasion we go back to it, and hear its words on our lips, the more we feel and find—until it becomes a part of us.

Blake will “drink of the clear stream,” evoking the idea from Greek mythology that the spirit after death is confronted by two rivers, Mnemosyne, granting memory, and Lethe, granting forgetfulness. Which has Blake chosen? The “linnet’s song” guides Blake to the same dream that the lovers know. Is the day lost in dream—or discovered? Is the external world around us real, or more of an illusion than our inner life?

No dream delays the ticking of the clock, so day gives way to night. Yet Blake accepts this duality—this descent into darkness. He will walk through the shadow of the “valley” of death. Here “melancholy” is not depression as we conceive it, but rather a somber state of solitude and reflection. It signals distance and detachment from the hustle and bustle of daily life—an opening rather than closing of the mind. In silence and stillness, the spirit of poetry remains immortal.

William Blake (1757–1827) was an English poet, painter, and printmaker.

Christopher Nield is a poet living in London.

this interpretation of the poem was taken from The Epoch Times.

Zygmunt Bauman – The Global Factory of Wasted Humans


Zygmunt Bauman, one of the greatest sociologists of our time, a harsh critic of modernity, talks about “The Global Factory of Wasted Humans” in a filmed conference published on the French video portal “Audiovisual Research Archive”

“The production of ‘human waste’ – or more precisely, wasted lives, the ‘superfluous’ populations of migrants, refugees and other outcasts – is an inevitable outcome of modernization. It is an unavoidable side-effect of economic progress and the quest for order which is characteristic of modernity. As long as large parts of the world remained wholly or partly unaffected by modernization, they were treated by modernizing societies as lands that were able to absorb the excess of population in the ‘developed countries’. Global solutions were sought, and temporarily found, to locally produced overpopulation problems. But as modernization has reached the furthest lands of the planet, ‘redundant population’ is produced everywhere and all localities have to bear the consequences of modernity’s global triumph. They are now confronted with the need to seek – in vain, it seems – local solutions to globally produced problems. The global spread of the modernity has given rise to growing quantities of human beings who are deprived of adequate means of survival, but the planet is fast running out of places to put them. Hence the new anxieties about ‘immigrants’ and ‘asylum seekers’ and the growing role played by diffuse ‘security fears’ on the contemporary political agenda” (from the description of his book “Wasted Lives: Modernity and Its Outcasts”).