ALL.

Elliott Patrick
A call to all, come and let’s talk.
Lets share the best we have, in our spiritual thoughts.
Lets show that we’re more of the same then not.
As we share this space and time we’ll all get more accomplished with acceptance,
reflection, compassion and being kind.
Lets just for one time show this confused world that at this moment we understand wisdom
and our connection to each other will make a better world.


The choice of ...

Fannie Coenen
Ontmoeten

is meer dan iemand tegenkomen
of bij elkaar zijn.
Je ontmoet niet zoveel mensen.
Ontmoeten heeft iets van verwondering en herkenning.
De ander is antwoord op de vraag van iets in jou.
Een echte ontmoeting raakt je.
Ze vraagt openheid van jou.
Niet dat je alles moet zeggen tegen de ander,
maar wel dat die ander jou iets mag zeggen of vragen.
Ontmoeten is de ander binnenlaten in het huis van jezelf,
met het risico dat hij of zij ontdekt dat niet alles echt is in je huis.
Dat je je soms anders voordoet,
dat je kwetsbaar bent,
en soms anderen napraat.
Iemand ontmoeten is iemand binnenlaten
in de binnenste cirkel van je leven.
Hij zal vragen naar je ervaringen, gewoontes, gevoelens en opvattingen.
Pas als je de ander zo diep laat binnendringen, kun je van een ontmoeting spreken.

Een echte ontmoeting laat sporen na...

(onbekende auteur)
To really meet

is more than to encounter someone
or to be with someone.
You don’t meet so many people.
Meet with someone has something of wonder and recognition.
The other is the answer to the question of something in you.
A real meeting touches you.
It asks openness.
Not that you have to say everything to the other,
but that the other may say or ask you something.
To meet the other is to allow the other in your inner ‘house’,
with the risk that he or she discovers that not everything is real in your ‘house’.
That you sometimes pretend to be different,
that you're vulnerable,
and sometimes repeat after others.
To meet someone is to allow someone inside
in the inner circle of your life.
He will inquire about your experiences, habits, feelings and attitudes.
Only when you let the other penetrate so deeply, you will speak of a real meeting.

A real meeting leaves traces…

(author unknown)

Metáfora / Metaphor

Humberto Sotto Mayor
Metáfora

Qual metáfora vieste para mim
para que eu advinhasse quem tu eras…
Tudo era aroma de seiva e alecrim
nas tuas vinte e cinco primaveras.

Flagelado, resisti e foi assim
que atingiste a minha fome com quimeras,
mas no silencio pressenti o fim
das horas exaltadas que me deras.

Quisera eu dizer-te o que nao sei
da minha tao premente solidao
que me ficou dos sonhos que te dei…

Quisera eu em ti ter confiança
ou que esta vida nao fosse um turbilhao
de encontros, desencontros, sem parança!

In: “Cantos e Desencantos”
Metaphor

Like a metaphor you came to me
so I would guess who you were...
Everything was aroma of sap and rosemary
in your twenty-five springs.

Scourged, I resisted and so
you have reached my hunger with fantasies,
but in the silence I envisioned the end
of the elated hours you had given me.

I wanted to tell you what I don’t know
from my pressing solitude
that remained of the dreams I gave you ...

I wanted to trust you
were this life not a vortex
of meetings, mismatches, endlessly!

O Encontro

José António Barreiros
Em qualquer momento
a criatura, olhando-se reflexamente,
surpreende-se
ao descobrir,
como se ante a maravilha e o espanto
no outro a sua própria evidência.

Em qualquer circunstância
o lugar irrompe
até ali espaço do invisível,
ignorado e por isso inexistente,
e o ser reintegra-se
na existência total,
ele e a origem e o destino
total e assim uno
e final,
o caminho do provir aquele que seguirá,
cíclico, fatal.

Em qualquer acaso
deste particular mundo
o tempo intervalará o contínuo viver
e do interstício surge,
em eterna novação,
o criador, a Arte
e assim a harmonia do Cosmos.

Há, por certo,
em qualquer recôndito instante
deste preciso momento
em que me lês
um ser que desperta
carnal no desejo
espiritual no anseio
amoroso na busca
de outro e do seu corpo
e por isso o grito de sua alma
e o abraço e o seu fruto
e o retornar-se a vida à vida
o ser a dar-se a existência.

Note of the editor: I chose to don’t publish the translations of this poetic prose, neither the Dutch version nor the English one.
All attempts some friends and I have made, seemed to us to maim the original.
My sincerely apologies.

O ENCONTRO DA LUZ / ENCOUNTER WITH LIGHT

Jorge Velhote & Sara Canelhas
UMA LUZ MAIS LUMINOSA

A princesa vem e demora os
seus passos na luz silenciosa
do seu manto o fogo do seu
olhar calcina a imensidão
insondável das palavras uma
Lâmina de sangue raspa o
vento a espada do anjo
deflagra os milagres as
mandíbulas das pedras
fragmentam os farrapos dos
lábios um dardo rasga a
inocência oculta é atroz o
momento como o mar errante
de um rosto ou o musgo de
uma lágrima: guarda com as
tuas mãos as cinzas da tristeza
e o punhal do desejo e a
devastação do fogo e as raízes
da chuva noutro lugar.



E DA LUZ SE FAZ LUZ

Na natureza nunca se sabe
como os caminhos começaram.
Mas é sempre nos corredores da luz que se formam,
honrados pelas sombras
que se curvam à sua passagem.

Como cegos encadeados só os tacteamos
sedentos, cativos de matinais romãs,
no altar dos deuses esquecidos
em prodigiosa invenção.

Segura a raiz e atua rosa
e as romãs em nenúfar...
Segura, se podes, a luz que da luz criou no vazio este lugar.



UM CAMINHO

Se na paz das algas as ondas marulham sussurros de espuma,
nos impávidos leitos musgos bebem dos rios sedentos.
Onde o vento não abrasa os dias, nem sóis incendeia,
véus de fina amnésia dão lume aos eclipses.

Não se ouve o mocho chamar o silêncio do vale,
nem o crepitar da lenha esculpir as pedras,
já não se escuta a voz dos segredos em conchas,
e as conchas já não cobrem o mar com pétalas.

Ninguém atravessa sozinho um largo rio
sem o baloiçar das margens.
Ninguém rasga os braços, fende o tórax
com a língua das águas.

Anjo ou mensageiro, ninguém segura sozinho
um facho de rios ou um fio de luzes.

Aquele que não tem lugar ocupa a amplidão do espaço,
um lugar verdadeiro, um caminho.
A BRIGHTER LIGHT

The princess comes and delays
her steps into the silent light
of her mantle, the fire of her look
burns the unreachable immensity of words,
a blood razor cuts the wind, the angels sword
deflagrates the miracles,
stones jaws scraps the leaps,
an arrow rips the occult innocence,
it´s a raging moment, as the errant sea
of a face or the moss of one tear.
keep in your hands the ashes of sadness,
the dagger of desire, the fire devastation, and
lead the roots of the rain to another place



LIGHT OF STONE AND LIME

We shall never know in nature
how roads ought to begin
Yet it is in a light pace they grow
sealed by pilgrims shadowing
laying by its feet a bright passage down .

Dazzled , we are just able to touch them
in supple ways that willingness can raise .
In the fringe of gods are mantles enchanted,
in the edge of the world are spinning the trails.

Keep in your hands the glowing gleam
In trays of lime by threads suspended.
Hold the trail that from light becomes stone.
Hold from stones what light engraves.



A PATH

If in algae peace, waves whisper the foaming sea
In riverbeds, fateful moss drinks from thirsty rivers
Where wind can’t burn the days nor ignites suns,
Veils of thin amnesia gives flame to eclipses.

No more we listen the owl calling the valleys silence
nor the crackle of woods shaping the stones,
No longer we spread the voice of secrets in shells
And shells no longer veil the sea with petals

No one crosses alone a large river
Without the balance of its river banks
Nobody rips its arms, cleaves the thorax
through waters tongue

Angel or messenger, nobody holds alone
a torch of rivers or a thread of lights.

The one who has no place occupies the whole space breadth
a true place, a path.

Where did we meet?

Nico Buisman
Where did we meet
on the road or in the street?
Traveling round the world
searching for a girl

A lovely girl I was looking for
No one I could find
I was too blind to see
The girl sitting next to me.

Now I surely know
I don't let you go
I was the fool
not able to see
what was already there to be

Where     Where did we meet?
Where     Where did we meet?
Where     Where did we meet?

We saw each other often
and there were moments
we speak, we argue we talk
we touched and walk
never that magic moment…
Until we look in each other’s Eyes

Where     Where did we meet?
Where     Where did we meet?
Not on the road, not in the street
It was in our Eyes where we meet.


Eyes are the doors to our soul.


João Videira Santos