<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340</id><updated>2012-02-02T18:46:07.878Z</updated><title type='text'>Vértebras Soltas</title><subtitle type='html'>O Adamastor, o espantalho, o rapaz. O guerreiro, a planície, os pardais, as gaivotas e os vendavais, entre outros arquétipos ancestrais.
O sangue que escorre dos punhos ou a paz que se leva aos outros. A liberdade, essa, não sei se a atingi nem ninguém. Mais um ideal dos homens para conversarem à luz da fogueira. Apenas mais um dos que comem na mesa do sagrado e do profano.AM</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>174</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-2493208116183311463</id><published>2011-11-28T21:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-11-28T21:25:17.642Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>- No homem reconheço todas as virtudes e defeitos do mundo. A tua fé nele deverá ser tão grande como o teu desprendimento. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um mocho piou, na pausa da sua prelecção, e sob o luar incandescente, o Espantalho recobrou:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; - O homem é o inventor de todas as ilusões e desilusões. Eu sou apenas a ilusão de um homem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-2493208116183311463?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2493208116183311463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2493208116183311463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2011/11/no-homem-reconheco-todas-as-virtudes-e.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-3724986126934323614</id><published>2011-11-28T17:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-11-28T21:33:52.743Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Num simples acto se despe um homem das muitas palavras que o vestem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-3724986126934323614?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3724986126934323614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3724986126934323614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/12/num-simples-acto-se-despe-um-homem-das.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-2679343082991473280</id><published>2011-03-22T12:46:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-07-19T23:41:09.591+01:00</updated><title type='text'>limbo</title><content type='html'>Parar agora de escrever&lt;br /&gt;resumir tudo o resto&lt;br /&gt;neste verso de nada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neste limbo de querer&lt;br /&gt;sem tentar, a verdade&lt;br /&gt;num poema dizer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por mais que olvide &lt;br /&gt;a página vazia,&lt;br /&gt;A vida é escrita&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-2679343082991473280?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2679343082991473280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2679343082991473280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2011/03/nu-limbo.html' title='limbo'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-2510934742095180905</id><published>2010-11-23T00:26:00.002Z</published><updated>2010-11-23T00:57:12.493Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Descrever a Poesia?&lt;br /&gt;Ela é a melhor maneira de um homem se vingar do seu destino.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Descrever o Orgasmo?&lt;br /&gt;É a Epifania da vida&lt;br /&gt;Onde se inicia a consciência&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Descrever a Mulher?&lt;br /&gt;Uma explicação basta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-2510934742095180905?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2510934742095180905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2510934742095180905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2010/11/descrever-poesia-ela-e-melhor-maneira.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-1635350036637297939</id><published>2009-11-25T22:49:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-11-25T22:54:54.844Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Cai a chuva, cai a chuva &lt;br /&gt;O vento sopra, o vento sopra&lt;br /&gt;Tudo se esconde na amargura&lt;br /&gt;Nada mais importa&lt;br /&gt;Cai a chuva, &lt;br /&gt;O vento sopra&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-1635350036637297939?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1635350036637297939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1635350036637297939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/11/cai-chuva-cai-chuva-o-vento-sopra-o.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5760910082657328357</id><published>2009-09-13T18:49:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T19:12:07.178+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>não é a palavra que perscruto&lt;br /&gt;as palavras não dizem nada&lt;br /&gt;há palavras que apenas dizem ao silêncio&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;há dores que não se sentem&lt;br /&gt;algumas apenas as diz o absoluto&lt;br /&gt;é o vazio que escuto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;esvaem-se crenças da vida&lt;br /&gt;como logros na boca da mulher&lt;br /&gt;a verdade é uma vela no escuro&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5760910082657328357?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5760910082657328357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5760910082657328357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/09/nao-e-palavra-que-perscruto-as-palavras.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-4869121622559283263</id><published>2009-07-12T05:10:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T11:53:55.106Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Danças tu ou dança a sombra?&lt;br /&gt;Desde o dia em que nasceste&lt;br /&gt;Até ao momento em que morreste&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julgas-te a mente coreógrafa&lt;br /&gt;Mas fizeram de ti marioneta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E no fim, o que foste para além?&lt;br /&gt;Vago aceno de despedida&lt;br /&gt;Entre a luz e a obscuridade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dança, dança, liberta-te!&lt;br /&gt;Até não haver mais claridade.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-4869121622559283263?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4869121622559283263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4869121622559283263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/07/dancas-tu-ou-danca-tua-sombra-desde-o.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-2804976740814561040</id><published>2009-05-24T22:57:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T23:23:39.759+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Serve-se fria&lt;br /&gt;Da lâmina gelada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mão da Justiça&lt;br /&gt;Não é acalorada&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-2804976740814561040?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2804976740814561040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2804976740814561040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/05/nao-e-acalorada-mao-da-justica-serve-se.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-3063926701180657802</id><published>2009-04-24T16:29:00.011+01:00</published><updated>2011-01-13T15:05:29.716Z</updated><title type='text'>Eterno Adamastor</title><content type='html'>Eu não cedi às trevas&lt;br /&gt;Não sucumbi à morte&lt;br /&gt;Eu glorifico a vida&lt;br /&gt;Minha luz consorte&lt;br /&gt;Ilumino as trevas&lt;br /&gt;Vejo para além da morte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu surjo-te monstro do abismo&lt;br /&gt;Para falar a ti, mortal&lt;br /&gt;Grito em tom de sismo&lt;br /&gt;Epopeia e queda final&lt;br /&gt;Inflamo o portal do espírito&lt;br /&gt;Que anima o teu corpo carnal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu espelho o horrendo da tua alma&lt;br /&gt;Um saber longe esquecido&lt;br /&gt;Trago-te o homem antigo&lt;br /&gt;Ponho o céu na tua palma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu convido-te a uma casa acima&lt;br /&gt;Onde deuses argúem tua causa&lt;br /&gt;Aqui só entram heróis firmes de seu leme&lt;br /&gt;Vence a morte a tua luz consorte&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-3063926701180657802?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3063926701180657802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3063926701180657802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/04/o-eterno-adamastor.html' title='Eterno Adamastor'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-1636488646471007860</id><published>2009-03-07T19:49:00.003Z</published><updated>2010-11-26T14:49:16.549Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Por entre vultos paira o olhar&lt;br /&gt;Do que paira entre as pessoas &lt;br /&gt;Névoas de intenções desapercebidas&lt;br /&gt;Encontros desabitados&lt;br /&gt;Visível cinza viva&lt;br /&gt;Por aquele entre o que paira&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morto caminha o sábio&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-1636488646471007860?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1636488646471007860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1636488646471007860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/03/por-entre-as-pessoas-paira-o-olhar-do.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-6779290266181500264</id><published>2009-03-03T12:38:00.010Z</published><updated>2011-06-13T19:29:50.367+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O Espantalho Derradeiro</title><content type='html'>Ah! Eu libertei-me do inferno&lt;br /&gt;Estão prontas minhas palhas&lt;br /&gt;Para o grande voo eterno&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estendi os braços no ar&lt;br /&gt;Abri o peito à chaga final&lt;br /&gt;Pronto para desancorar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atendi a voz de Vénus ao alto&lt;br /&gt;Que o fim dos dias alumia&lt;br /&gt;E escutei sem demais sobressalto&lt;br /&gt;O que sua luz anuncia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Espera-me o colosso atroz&lt;br /&gt;Na penumbra semicerrado&lt;br /&gt;O cruel Adamastor&lt;br /&gt;Do Espaço siderado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pega numa vela e num espelho&lt;br /&gt;E verás o outro lado&lt;br /&gt;Pega numa estrela e no mar&lt;br /&gt;E verás o grande fardo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reflectida no mar a vontade cabal&lt;br /&gt;De um alto e tenebroso fado,&lt;br /&gt;As tramas de um monstro calado&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-6779290266181500264?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6779290266181500264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6779290266181500264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/03/o-espantalho-derradeiro.html' title='O Espantalho Derradeiro'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-1644809933781453414</id><published>2009-02-17T23:02:00.008Z</published><updated>2009-03-30T14:56:22.150+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Se eu tenho um amigo&lt;br /&gt;Tenho um bastão&lt;br /&gt;Se eu tenho um inimigo&lt;br /&gt;Tenho o meu chão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se eu tenho um castigo&lt;br /&gt;Tenho o meu céu&lt;br /&gt;Se eu tenho o meu trigo&lt;br /&gt;Tenho o meu pão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sento-me na orla do mar&lt;br /&gt;E vejo o infinito&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me olhando o meu par&lt;br /&gt;E não sinto perigo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É mais uma voltinha&lt;br /&gt;De carro ou bicicleta&lt;br /&gt;É mais uma voltinha&lt;br /&gt;Na grande camioneta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olham-nos os gatos pardos&lt;br /&gt;Nos nossos sofás sentados&lt;br /&gt;A luz do nosso fardo&lt;br /&gt;Que os alumia espantados&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É tão grande a nossa luz&lt;br /&gt;Que temos uns amigos&lt;br /&gt;Além da nossa cruz&lt;br /&gt;Sentados no nosso umbigo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De volta ao abismo vamos&lt;br /&gt;Lançar-nos ao mar&lt;br /&gt;Nesta terra já nada há &lt;br /&gt;Para o nosso pé pisar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vamos ver, meus amigos&lt;br /&gt;Onde se esconde o vale&lt;br /&gt;Vamos procurar enfim&lt;br /&gt;O nosso Santo Graal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tão vastos os nossos abrigos&lt;br /&gt;Que abraçamos o mundo&lt;br /&gt;O império dos nossos antigos&lt;br /&gt;De Atlântida profundo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-1644809933781453414?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1644809933781453414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1644809933781453414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/02/se-eu-tenho-um-amigo-tenho-um-bastao-se.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-4875524604376028880</id><published>2009-02-13T01:15:00.016Z</published><updated>2010-11-26T15:00:14.509Z</updated><title type='text'>o Espantalho Luzidio</title><content type='html'>Se eu for hoje meu amigo, já cheirei a primavera na manhã que os pássaros me cantaram e parto deste mundo sem a ganância de querer o sol outra vez. Havemos de cantar juntos altíssimo para as estrelas nos ouvirem ao redor de uma fogueira irmã que do frio nos acolhe. Se acaso me chamarem noutra missão, digo-vos, vou com a minha poesia, pois sou um homem da guerra e dela não me posso apartar. Sou o espantalho da quimera, vim aqui para ficar. Fica aqui o testemunho se a sorte o vento quiser mudar. Desde que a Trompeta Irisada ouvi não mais pude parar de pregar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olha os homens na guerra! Parecem fantoches no circo a fazer de bonecos maus. São tão mauzinhos que tiram a vida a outra criança, com medo que lhes tirem a deles. São tão mauzinhos que até têm medo de matar uma mulher. Ignoram o que é arder no fogo que queima a vida que arde sem se crer. É a apologia da guerra semelhante à do desapego, deixar tudo para trás, mas antes deixar muitas vidas debaixo dos pés. Foi assim que fizemos um monumento à Batalha, meu irmão. É tão antiga a história, como o são as palhas da minha muralha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-4875524604376028880?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4875524604376028880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4875524604376028880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/02/o-luzidio.html' title='o Espantalho Luzidio'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5475234641208803783</id><published>2009-01-29T01:14:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-02-02T10:45:39.952Z</updated><title type='text'>Mãe Terra</title><content type='html'>&lt;a name="conteudo"&gt;&lt;span id="lblDlpoPesqPalavra"&gt;Esferas concêntricas&lt;br /&gt;no espaço perdidas&lt;br /&gt;terra gigante&lt;br /&gt;massa descomedida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;se ao centro descer&lt;br /&gt;nele encontra o berço&lt;br /&gt;pesado da gravidade&lt;br /&gt;do feto a viver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sepultado no mundo&lt;br /&gt;o embrião encolhido&lt;br /&gt;de génese infantil&lt;br /&gt;no interior perdido&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o espaço profundo&lt;br /&gt;o infinito vazio&lt;br /&gt;encerra sombrio&lt;br /&gt;o útero moribundo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a mãe terra contém&lt;br /&gt;no túmulo seu centro&lt;br /&gt;um vazio tão extenso&lt;br /&gt;quanto o céu obtuso&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tem a alma da terra&lt;br /&gt;a luz das estrelas&lt;br /&gt;nela sobre tudo&lt;br /&gt;o olhar revela&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;comprimido é o centro&lt;br /&gt;a angústia do ser&lt;br /&gt;tão livre é o pensamento&lt;br /&gt;como alma no peito a bater&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5475234641208803783?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5475234641208803783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5475234641208803783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/01/mae-terra.html' title='Mãe Terra'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-8619294889663871363</id><published>2009-01-18T00:43:00.005Z</published><updated>2009-01-22T11:39:52.257Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>mesmo no escuro do lago nocturno&lt;br /&gt;oiço o brilho na água&lt;br /&gt;do som das estrelas no céu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mesmo de cego coberto persiste a fé&lt;br /&gt;da vida na água de outras esferas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;entes do espaço para aqui vieram&lt;br /&gt;de muitas galáxias procederam&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;espelhada na água a gravidade&lt;br /&gt;entre o tudo e o nada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;reside a consciência aqui&lt;br /&gt;ou habita a anti-matéria?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mesmo no escuro persiste&lt;br /&gt;um brilho mudo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-8619294889663871363?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8619294889663871363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8619294889663871363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/01/mesmo-no-escuro-do-lago-nocturno-oio-o.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-698981594003829007</id><published>2009-01-18T00:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2009-01-18T00:33:08.618Z</updated><title type='text'>Meridiano</title><content type='html'>Não o aflige o exército&lt;br /&gt;Já deu tudo ao seu irmão&lt;br /&gt;Reuniu uma trupe de guerreiros da luz&lt;br /&gt;Que faz estremecer os celestes&lt;br /&gt;Tem um exército do seu lado&lt;br /&gt;De honrosos soldados&lt;br /&gt;Capazes de suportar a cruz&lt;br /&gt;Aqui e além fronteiras&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não o atormenta o exército&lt;br /&gt;Tem um irmão do seu lado&lt;br /&gt;Com uma rosa cruzada no peito&lt;br /&gt;Foi da espada do rei que aqui ficou&lt;br /&gt;Foi a ibéria que se consagrou&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-698981594003829007?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/698981594003829007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/698981594003829007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/01/meridiano.html' title='Meridiano'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-8988089056745964609</id><published>2009-01-18T00:14:00.005Z</published><updated>2009-03-04T17:09:32.544Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A mulher rouba ao homem para dar vida, fermenta o desejo na qual a semente é germinada, colhe-o como se fosse da má vida e ainda pretende passar por casta. O homem goza a mulher prostrada, dá a planta semeada, é terra lavrada da mulher sagrada.&lt;br /&gt;Que a mulher é fera que mata a cria vizinha para dar vida de si, ferida aberta de homens nascidos, à morte lançados, às garras de outras feras. Portal celestial na qual a luz é semeada. A cruz plantada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não chores mulher, não vais morrer, acabas de dar à luz! Que sempre que fazes um homem chorar, há mais um ponto no universo que reluz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-8988089056745964609?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8988089056745964609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8988089056745964609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/01/mulher-rouba-ao-homem-para-dar-vida.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-884067861458101778</id><published>2009-01-11T18:56:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-03-04T17:10:33.140Z</updated><title type='text'>O Galinheiro</title><content type='html'>Quando deixámos de louvar a carne que matamos para comer, descemos abaixo de animal. Matamos os filhos de deus em vão.&lt;br /&gt;Na antropogénese demiúrgica esconde-se um canibalismo atroz. E mesmo as plantas ou árvores, o homem julga que tenham vindo aqui para o servir.&lt;br /&gt;O leão honra a presa caçada. O humano é galinha amestrada no cimo do seu poleiro, julgando livre o pescoço da faca.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-884067861458101778?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/884067861458101778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/884067861458101778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/01/o-galinheiro.html' title='O Galinheiro'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-2200129756868698249</id><published>2009-01-08T02:30:00.010Z</published><updated>2009-02-02T10:50:54.981Z</updated><title type='text'>Ma Donna</title><content type='html'>Olhei para ti no escuro&lt;br /&gt;Olhei para ti no claro&lt;br /&gt;Passei a minha vida&lt;br /&gt;A olhar este quadro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhei nas estrelas desertas&lt;br /&gt;Nos lagos turvos&lt;br /&gt;Nas mulheres incertas&lt;br /&gt;O rosto de veludo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De uma mulher que tinha&lt;br /&gt;Nas caras todas as caras&lt;br /&gt;De quem sou desde que nasci&lt;br /&gt;Até ao dia que descobri&lt;br /&gt;Chegar a velho mereci&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O pintor era tão egoísta&lt;br /&gt;Que pintou o seu rosto&lt;br /&gt;De infância loira&lt;br /&gt;A velho branco panteísta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na candidez dela&lt;br /&gt;Estavam caras minhas&lt;br /&gt;Numa simples tela&lt;br /&gt;As nossas vinhas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como pôde alguém&lt;br /&gt;Condensar num quadro&lt;br /&gt;Tão pequena obra&lt;br /&gt;Tão completa?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como pôde tal génio&lt;br /&gt;Esconder o futuro ali&lt;br /&gt;Em madeira o passado&lt;br /&gt;O tempo mistério?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;São muitos os rostos da deusa&lt;br /&gt;No quadro do mestre&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-2200129756868698249?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2200129756868698249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2200129756868698249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/01/olhei-para-ti-no-escuro-olhei-para-ti.html' title='Ma Donna'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-7274398383390280077</id><published>2009-01-07T23:47:00.007Z</published><updated>2009-02-02T10:59:40.011Z</updated><title type='text'>Ribeira D’Ilhas</title><content type='html'>Um tesouro escondido&lt;br /&gt;E Ali à esquerda&lt;br /&gt;Ali Baba a vigiar&lt;br /&gt;Uma salinidade&lt;br /&gt;De tanta pedra sobre o mar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um túnel direito&lt;br /&gt;Sobre o céu a dançar&lt;br /&gt;Digno de o apanhar foi&lt;br /&gt;Meu irmão das alturas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que em terra este lugar&lt;br /&gt;É um lugar escondido&lt;br /&gt;Onde tu a surfar&lt;br /&gt;Para sempre perduras&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por ali existe a pairar&lt;br /&gt;Um largo sonho a voar&lt;br /&gt;De um homem de terra abruta&lt;br /&gt;Que se abriu para o mar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um rio que abriu ilhas&lt;br /&gt;Eternas, escondidas&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-7274398383390280077?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/7274398383390280077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/7274398383390280077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/01/ribeira-dilhas.html' title='Ribeira D’Ilhas'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-3110858902238120528</id><published>2009-01-05T00:20:00.007Z</published><updated>2009-03-04T17:12:43.801Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>vive sempre perto do mar&lt;br /&gt;mesmo quando para o deserto te puxarem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vive sempre perto do abismo&lt;br /&gt;para onde as veias da terra te escorrem&lt;br /&gt;e a luz em espectro&lt;br /&gt;a vida em água cria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o sangue que percorre&lt;br /&gt;aqui uma batida&lt;br /&gt;outra acolá&lt;br /&gt;num ciclo elementar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vive monstro&lt;br /&gt;perto do mar&lt;br /&gt;para a tua costa&lt;br /&gt;atormentar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-3110858902238120528?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3110858902238120528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3110858902238120528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/01/vivi-sempre-perto-do-mar-mesmo-quando.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-4707205278585024693</id><published>2009-01-04T22:08:00.002Z</published><updated>2010-12-15T14:33:36.281Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>hoje é dia santo&lt;br /&gt;amanha pecamos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hoje descansamos&lt;br /&gt;amanhã trabalhamos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hoje é dia de família&lt;br /&gt;amanhã negamo-la&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hoje é dia de paz&lt;br /&gt;amanha é a guerra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hoje é Domingo&lt;br /&gt;amanhã não sei&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;segundo o que uns dizem&lt;br /&gt;é o inferno&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hoje está murcho o que queres&lt;br /&gt;amanhã cruz erecta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hoje teu é o desejo&lt;br /&gt;amanhã de Elektra&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-4707205278585024693?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4707205278585024693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4707205278585024693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2009/01/hoje-dia-santo-amanha-pecamos-hoje.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5796345893853599488</id><published>2008-12-31T04:13:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-12-31T04:13:41.311Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Um homem grande envergonha-se da sua riqueza, um político esconde-a.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5796345893853599488?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5796345893853599488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5796345893853599488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/um-homem-grande-envergonha-se-da-sua.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-8044313320585332004</id><published>2008-12-31T03:16:00.005Z</published><updated>2008-12-31T14:41:23.720Z</updated><title type='text'>Poligamia</title><content type='html'>Éramos todos irmãos de sangue até que as castas se separaram. O ser está para além das castas.&lt;br /&gt;A videira foi regada com mijo de cão. Negro o sangue, grande o coração.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continuamos dionisíacos. É tão antiga a história dos antigos, como a nossa. Reina quem dá de beber sonhos aos rebanhos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Grécia mitológica são histórias de infância. Não quer dizer que a infância da humanidade não seja repetida. A consciência pode ostentar uma dobra no espaço, ou uma máquina do tempo. Esse fenómeno despertaria novos axiomas científicos. O homem viajaria pelo espaço, sem sair da terra. Sonhos antigos voltariam a ser sonhados.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-8044313320585332004?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8044313320585332004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8044313320585332004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/poligamia.html' title='Poligamia'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-6309830418920873961</id><published>2008-12-31T03:06:00.005Z</published><updated>2009-01-09T23:48:27.181Z</updated><title type='text'>pergaminho apócrifo</title><content type='html'>Sabem aquele diabrete que tinha um iate tão grande, tão grande, tão grande que vos punha a pensar nele? Ele só veio cá para ensinar que a inveja não é mal nenhum. Tinha com ele as musas escaldantes e a fama de ser pastor cobridor. Era tão grande o barco, que os marinheiros se punham a gozar nelas. Que medo tens de navegar em pecado? Julgas que não mareias esse barco?  Era cornudo o Diabo porque a Mulher o domou. Deixa o barco vir à terra e verás. Trás a gnóstica na alma dos homens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-6309830418920873961?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6309830418920873961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6309830418920873961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/pergaminho-apcrifo_31.html' title='pergaminho apócrifo'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5534522157980832213</id><published>2008-12-31T02:21:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-12-31T04:35:58.516Z</updated><title type='text'>cumprimento</title><content type='html'>Condensar as civilizações&lt;br /&gt;Como se fossem heterónimos&lt;br /&gt;E escrever o homem moderno&lt;br /&gt;Como signos egípcios&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O mágico da cartola&lt;br /&gt;Bebe o seu café&lt;br /&gt;Doce de sonhos etílicos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O lusitano que se levanta&lt;br /&gt;É cigano de antiga fusão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que detrás a luz&lt;br /&gt;Trás o menino p’la mão&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5534522157980832213?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5534522157980832213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5534522157980832213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/vnia_31.html' title='cumprimento'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-6452444540248366913</id><published>2008-12-31T02:01:00.004Z</published><updated>2009-08-20T15:12:20.012+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Lisa e o eterno feminino</title><content type='html'>Ele foi a magra&lt;br /&gt;Ele foi a gorda&lt;br /&gt;Ele foi a parva&lt;br /&gt;E foi a aleijada&lt;br /&gt;Ele foi a engraçada&lt;br /&gt;E a extraviada&lt;br /&gt;Foi a certa e a desleixada&lt;br /&gt;A nova e a encurvada&lt;br /&gt;Bruxa e fada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ele foi dias todas&lt;br /&gt;numa só deusa&lt;br /&gt;a mulher pasmada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;não o chores&lt;br /&gt;eterno é o seu amor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;foi com a esquerda&lt;br /&gt;que pintou o quadro&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-6452444540248366913?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6452444540248366913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6452444540248366913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/concerto-de-mona-lisa-para-piano.html' title='Lisa e o eterno feminino'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-356943666220198215</id><published>2008-12-31T01:52:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-01-23T12:00:59.000Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>a arte marcial serve&lt;br /&gt;em dar vida ao próximo&lt;br /&gt;suster um amigo na guerra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tontos são os homens na guerra&lt;br /&gt;que se matam por mulheres parvas&lt;br /&gt;tontas são as mulheres que os deixam ir&lt;br /&gt;cheios para as guerras de armas&lt;br /&gt;tontas são as mães que os metem no mundo&lt;br /&gt;ali vai mais um vagabundo&lt;br /&gt;tão grande é o sorriso da mulher&lt;br /&gt;como o choro da criança nos braços&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;já me vejo morto,&lt;br /&gt;o que contra mim algo tiver&lt;br /&gt;contra ti será&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-356943666220198215?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/356943666220198215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/356943666220198215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/arte-marcial-serve-em-dar-vida-amigo.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-1257910593164403157</id><published>2008-12-23T23:57:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-12-27T15:13:02.655Z</updated><title type='text'>Esvazia a tua taça agora.</title><content type='html'>É agora, meus amigos proficientes&lt;br /&gt;Defensores desta ancestral&lt;br /&gt;Diáspora secular&lt;br /&gt;É agora que me compreendeis&lt;br /&gt;Porque sou vosso defensor&lt;br /&gt;Defendi a língua até à morte&lt;br /&gt;Nos campos da Índia e do Brasil&lt;br /&gt;Vamos unir esta garça&lt;br /&gt;Numa Távola redonda&lt;br /&gt;Pode ser de madeira tosca&lt;br /&gt;Mas cheia de Christus&lt;br /&gt;Com o milagre lá dentro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recebe este sangue de mim!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-1257910593164403157?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1257910593164403157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1257910593164403157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/esvazia-tua-taa-agora.html' title='Esvazia a tua taça agora.'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-6575089526480323373</id><published>2008-12-23T23:43:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-12-23T23:43:25.456Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Que não diga o padre&lt;br /&gt;Mal de Camões&lt;br /&gt;Que seja antigo o mito&lt;br /&gt;Nós sabemos sabichões&lt;br /&gt;Que é antigo o vosso medo&lt;br /&gt;Pelo fogo dos dragões&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-6575089526480323373?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6575089526480323373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6575089526480323373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/que-no-diga-o-padre-mal-de-cames-que.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-6061213794840588361</id><published>2008-12-23T23:24:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-01-11T19:41:39.557Z</updated><title type='text'>O Lavrador</title><content type='html'>Onde procuras a verdade&lt;br /&gt;No movimento das estrelas&lt;br /&gt;Ou no sorriso de um homem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhas para cima&lt;br /&gt;Olhas para ti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estás só com o céu&lt;br /&gt;Estás só com os homens &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A todos os meus amigos digo&lt;br /&gt;Que não desesperem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vocês estão cheios&lt;br /&gt;Da minha solidão&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-6061213794840588361?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6061213794840588361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6061213794840588361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/o-lavrador.html' title='O Lavrador'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-270482971039196131</id><published>2008-12-22T22:49:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-12-22T10:45:23.471Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Aquilo que era a Europa, são agora os sonhos dos bárbaros que dentro de Roma nasceram.&lt;br /&gt;O pluralismo foi o aceitar da derrota da identidade. E o consumismo uma distracção dos restos da nossa hombridade.&lt;br /&gt;Já poucas razões há para morrer deste lado, e nem uma virgem vive neste céu.&lt;br /&gt;E depois, estúpidos, aceitamos com leviandade, o nascimento de um novo homem em puberdade. A crise remonta ao tempo em que começou esta falsa castidade.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-270482971039196131?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/270482971039196131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/270482971039196131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/aquilo-que-era-europa-so-agora-os.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-8405706890481123919</id><published>2008-12-22T22:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-12-22T00:13:49.414Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Cuidado com o cão,&lt;br /&gt;Cuidado com o terrorismo,&lt;br /&gt;Cuidado com o bicho papão!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apaguem o fogo da juventude,&lt;br /&gt;Dêem-lhes com o bastão,&lt;br /&gt;Extingam a revolução!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tragam o gás, as sirenes e a televisão,&lt;br /&gt;Mais as promessas da ordem corrupta!&lt;br /&gt;Comprem os sonhos das almas disjuntas&lt;br /&gt;Ou lancem-lhes as balas da força abrupta!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuidado com o cão,&lt;br /&gt;Não vá ele te morder!&lt;br /&gt;Queres que eu o largue?&lt;br /&gt;Ele come da minha mão!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-8405706890481123919?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8405706890481123919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8405706890481123919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/cuidado-com-o-co-cuidado-com-o.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-7142686003939425119</id><published>2008-12-17T01:01:00.007Z</published><updated>2010-07-14T17:11:47.814+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A Sombra Escorreita</title><content type='html'>Reparaste quando olhaste&lt;br /&gt;Do canto do teu olho,&lt;br /&gt;Como ela se desviou?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reparaste como foi rápido&lt;br /&gt;A esquivar-se da mente,&lt;br /&gt;Que não a captou?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reparaste como foi estranho&lt;br /&gt;Teres concluído,&lt;br /&gt;Que nas costas se esquivou?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reparaste que não conheces&lt;br /&gt;A verdade das coisas encontradas,&lt;br /&gt;Que só vêz o que que procede&lt;br /&gt;Das tramas ensaiadas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reparaste na sombra esquecida&lt;br /&gt;Por trás das cortinas abertas&lt;br /&gt;Que agiganta as coisas vividas&lt;br /&gt;No palco das vidas incertas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reparaste no que encerra&lt;br /&gt;Aquilo que se desviou&lt;br /&gt;Do teu olho mental?&lt;br /&gt;Aquilo que não vê&lt;br /&gt;O teu olhar mortal?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-7142686003939425119?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/7142686003939425119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/7142686003939425119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/escorreita.html' title='A Sombra Escorreita'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-1163739702655850919</id><published>2008-12-17T00:51:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-12-18T11:13:56.281Z</updated><title type='text'>Rosmaninho</title><content type='html'>Arquitecta do mundo&lt;br /&gt;O homem apenas desenha&lt;br /&gt;Para onde nos levas plebeia,&lt;br /&gt;Para o mel da tua colmeia?&lt;br /&gt;Onde picas com o teu ferrão&lt;br /&gt;O falo de um homem deseja&lt;br /&gt;Doce veneno o teu,&lt;br /&gt;Eterna Mestra Abelha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-1163739702655850919?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1163739702655850919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1163739702655850919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/arquitecta-do-mundo-o-homem-apenas.html' title='Rosmaninho'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5038986062445015100</id><published>2008-12-17T00:33:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-12-18T11:18:19.396Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quem te conduz à Vitória,&lt;br /&gt;O que fala aqui de cima&lt;br /&gt;Ou esse que de baixo te fala?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se queres ouvir esse cantor&lt;br /&gt;Tiro-te o chão dos pés,&lt;br /&gt;Homem de Alma Penada!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5038986062445015100?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5038986062445015100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5038986062445015100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/quem-te-conduz-vitria-o-que-fala-aqui.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-1722478590918802817</id><published>2008-12-17T00:21:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-12-17T16:16:30.337Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Se sobrevivi mais um dia&lt;br /&gt;Foi para ver nascer o Sol&lt;br /&gt;Julgas que o Sol te dá?&lt;br /&gt;Suga-te a força divina&lt;br /&gt;Vive de tudo absorver!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gira o teu mundo&lt;br /&gt;Ao seu encontro&lt;br /&gt;Até só luz sobreviver!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não é no espaço que se encontra&lt;br /&gt;O buraco negro que desponta&lt;br /&gt;É no fulcro da galáxia&lt;br /&gt;Que o seu reflexo se desmonta!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-1722478590918802817?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1722478590918802817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1722478590918802817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/se-sobrevivi-mais-um-dia-foi-para-ver-o.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5486653504607087966</id><published>2008-12-17T00:06:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-12-17T00:15:04.629Z</updated><title type='text'>Inominável......aquele, que aprisionou a luz.</title><content type='html'>Quem não adora velas,&lt;br /&gt;Como se formam ao fogo&lt;br /&gt;Lentamente deformam elas,&lt;br /&gt;Até que da forma nem vê-las?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vai a luz, deixa o pavio&lt;br /&gt;Para outra vela incendiar&lt;br /&gt;Outra vela iluminar&lt;br /&gt;Do fundo negro do meu Olhar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E agora vais dormitar&lt;br /&gt;Na caverna vais acamar&lt;br /&gt;Com a minha luz vais sonhar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5486653504607087966?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5486653504607087966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5486653504607087966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/inominvelaquele-que-aprisionou-luz.html' title='Inominável......aquele, que aprisionou a luz.'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-4029730664166144922</id><published>2008-12-16T23:45:00.005Z</published><updated>2008-12-16T23:49:29.936Z</updated><title type='text'>Oriente Meio</title><content type='html'>Se um árabe se baixa&lt;br /&gt;Se o outro se rebaixa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;porque não posso viver com o meu irmão,&lt;br /&gt;se vivo com ele a mesma religião?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do homem que aqui se baixa&lt;br /&gt;E além levanta o coração?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não é para cima que ele se eleva?&lt;br /&gt;Não é para baixo que ele se pela?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-4029730664166144922?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4029730664166144922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4029730664166144922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/oriente-meio.html' title='Oriente Meio'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5174871739638101562</id><published>2008-12-16T23:40:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-12-17T01:09:11.078Z</updated><title type='text'>Simbolos Sagrados da Humanidade</title><content type='html'>Atentado colossal à deusa, a Pirâmide&lt;br /&gt;Ventre sagrado mais alto&lt;br /&gt; Andaram assim a carrega-la&lt;br /&gt;Os escravos da pedr’alta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que não há martírio maior&lt;br /&gt;Que render um povo inteiro&lt;br /&gt;Ao culto do útero profano&lt;br /&gt;Da morte vivificada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dela não irás esquecer&lt;br /&gt;a múmia que foste&lt;br /&gt;no Delta amado&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5174871739638101562?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5174871739638101562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5174871739638101562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/simbolos-sagrados.html' title='Simbolos Sagrados da Humanidade'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5299619037412390744</id><published>2008-12-16T23:32:00.004Z</published><updated>2010-07-14T17:14:42.606+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>o que estou a escrever agora&lt;br /&gt;não sou eu que escrevo&lt;br /&gt;apenas abro um portal&lt;br /&gt;para os outros passarem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;virão homens atrás dela&lt;br /&gt;confirmar o que escreveu&lt;br /&gt;a pena velha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5299619037412390744?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5299619037412390744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5299619037412390744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/o-que-estou-escrever-agora-no-sou-eu.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-2391078336689255210</id><published>2008-12-16T23:14:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-12-16T23:30:09.689Z</updated><title type='text'>A visão Maga</title><content type='html'>São as crianças o futuro, Pai Natal?&lt;br /&gt;É o sorriso que levas,&lt;br /&gt;No teu saco abismal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque vem do céu a glória&lt;br /&gt;Da infância perdida?&lt;br /&gt;Que conta a Sábia história&lt;br /&gt;Do homem elevado que vinha?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vem um carrossel cadente&lt;br /&gt;De tamanha alegria&lt;br /&gt;Vem um homem sorridente&lt;br /&gt;Cheio de sabedoria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desce o nosso pai à terra&lt;br /&gt;E só os putos o viram chegar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vem das estrelas&lt;br /&gt;O alimento que trazes,&lt;br /&gt;É o futuro, Pai Natal!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vem de lá uma caravana&lt;br /&gt;Extrondosa , levar-me daqui&lt;br /&gt;Para o mundo que sonhei&lt;br /&gt;E não esqueci&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dorme embalada no berço&lt;br /&gt;A criança que há em mim&lt;br /&gt;Dorme embalada no Berço&lt;br /&gt;A criança que há em ti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faça-se agora verdade&lt;br /&gt;O que em criança senti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na poesia que levas&lt;br /&gt;Está o teu Álibi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-2391078336689255210?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2391078336689255210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2391078336689255210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/viso-maga.html' title='A visão Maga'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-12185186159816935</id><published>2008-12-06T02:58:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-03-02T00:33:32.792Z</updated><title type='text'>Sereia</title><content type='html'>- Menina saloia&lt;br /&gt;dama da praia&lt;br /&gt;senhora do mar&lt;br /&gt;és a preferida&lt;br /&gt;de quem quer amar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Vens buscar-me?&lt;br /&gt;para onde me levas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Para o inferno&lt;br /&gt;do meu vulcão&lt;br /&gt;para as trevas&lt;br /&gt;da minha língua&lt;br /&gt;para os monstros&lt;br /&gt;na minha mão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que venha a aranha morder-me&lt;br /&gt;vinda do mato a escorregar&lt;br /&gt;uma rainha linda&lt;br /&gt;um corpo de cobrinha&lt;br /&gt;suave e deslizante&lt;br /&gt;a pele de cetim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dá-me um beijo&lt;br /&gt;desses em que o mundo desaparece&lt;br /&gt;e tu faleces num precipício profundo&lt;br /&gt;tão escuro quanto a bruma&lt;br /&gt;que me ia no coração&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Não...desses não...&lt;br /&gt;daqueles em que tudo à volta se torna colorido&lt;br /&gt;e os pássaros cantam o amanhã&lt;br /&gt;num bosque perdido&lt;br /&gt;tão alegre que limpa qualquer ordenação&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Ai Mulher! Tu és a Primavera sã!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Logo depois vem o vulcão&lt;br /&gt;quente como o inferno.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-12185186159816935?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/12185186159816935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/12185186159816935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/sereia.html' title='Sereia'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-8231630418937482804</id><published>2008-12-06T02:57:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-12-06T03:03:12.776Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Passas, como-as agora&lt;br /&gt;trinco-as como ninguém quer&lt;br /&gt;sementes vivas por dentro&lt;br /&gt;frutos secos por fora&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-8231630418937482804?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8231630418937482804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8231630418937482804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/passas-como-as-agora-trinco-as-como.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-186242630744661927</id><published>2008-12-04T12:14:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-12-04T20:19:41.080Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quis desafiar os deuses&lt;br /&gt;Cravou na pedra a gnose&lt;br /&gt;De um mundo sombrio&lt;br /&gt;Na caverna recôndita&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Negou a sua finitude&lt;br /&gt;Ensinou a criança vindoura&lt;br /&gt;Dos perigos e das virtudes&lt;br /&gt;Desta aventura louca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É tão rupestre a ciência&lt;br /&gt;Gaia na sua ignorância&lt;br /&gt;Como era a consciência&lt;br /&gt;Do pagão deambulante&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ergueu o homem a obra&lt;br /&gt;Comendo o pão amassado&lt;br /&gt;P´la mão do anjo difame&lt;br /&gt;Seu O ser mal amado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caiu abrupto na terra&lt;br /&gt;Conspurcado vilipendiado&lt;br /&gt;A semente acordada na luz&lt;br /&gt;A obra do Diabo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas anda na selva tecnológica&lt;br /&gt;Um neopagão tão macaco&lt;br /&gt;Como o macaco trepador&lt;br /&gt;Da primitiva floresta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Civilizaçãos caídas&lt;br /&gt;Muitas foram as que viu&lt;br /&gt;O dragão de fogo&lt;br /&gt;Sobre o mundo as asas abriu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por mais escritos e gravuras&lt;br /&gt;Que o Homem deixou&lt;br /&gt;Será cinza ao vento&lt;br /&gt;Do tempo que passou&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-186242630744661927?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/186242630744661927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/186242630744661927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/12/quis-desafiar-os-deuses-cravou-na-pedra.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5508150581465148679</id><published>2008-09-18T20:32:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T11:39:52.263+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>eu queria ver&lt;br /&gt;mas os deuses negaram-me&lt;br /&gt;a hipótese de ver&lt;br /&gt;porque eu queria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;então eu vi&lt;br /&gt;que os deuses queriam&lt;br /&gt;que eu visse&lt;br /&gt;que eram os deuses que viam&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que eu querer&lt;br /&gt;era um ser&lt;br /&gt;que não se sabia&lt;br /&gt;querido pelos deuses&lt;br /&gt;que não-são&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5508150581465148679?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5508150581465148679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5508150581465148679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/09/eu-queria-ver-mas-os-deuses-tiraram-me.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-8324372704342938057</id><published>2008-09-12T23:47:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T11:10:09.844+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Só</title><content type='html'>Só&lt;br /&gt;Um Homem no Mar&lt;br /&gt;Só&lt;br /&gt;Mar&lt;br /&gt;Mar só&lt;br /&gt;O Mar e um Homem &lt;br /&gt;Só um Homem&lt;br /&gt;Só o Mar&lt;br /&gt;E o Mar no Homem&lt;br /&gt;Só Mar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se o Mar o Homem levar&lt;br /&gt;Será só Homem levado&lt;br /&gt;Só pelo Mar&lt;br /&gt;Só&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para além da lembrança&lt;br /&gt;De um homem só,&lt;br /&gt;Só Mar&lt;br /&gt;Maior que pranto só,&lt;br /&gt;O Mar&lt;br /&gt;De um só homem&lt;br /&gt;Levado só&lt;br /&gt;Pelo Mar&lt;br /&gt;Só&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-8324372704342938057?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8324372704342938057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8324372704342938057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/09/s.html' title='Só'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-638017770639941411</id><published>2008-06-06T02:10:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T12:26:41.587+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>lá fora o vento uivava&lt;br /&gt;chamando a razão&lt;br /&gt;de que nada, nada, nada,&lt;br /&gt;escapa à fúria da perdição&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-638017770639941411?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/638017770639941411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/638017770639941411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/06/l-fora-o-vento-uivava-chamando-me-razo.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-3828344333395788355</id><published>2008-04-11T20:19:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T17:02:47.696+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A rocha que diz ao escultor ser perfeita no estado bruto, enlouquece-o, impede-o de dar à luz.&lt;br /&gt;De joelhos fica, como o pedinte.&lt;br /&gt;Redime-se em dar-lhe uma forma e essa é sua particular sepultura.&lt;br /&gt;A sentença que dá à rocha é da sua cabeça.&lt;br /&gt;Também o escultor quis imortalizar a não forma.&lt;br /&gt;A mãe que deixa o seu vinco na carne da terra através do filho.&lt;br /&gt;Poder-lhe-ão chamar egoísmo ou altruísmo, mas isso é só questiúncula moral dentro do homem.&lt;br /&gt;A estátua é o resultado de tudo o que o escultor lhe deu ou recebeu.&lt;br /&gt;Feita à sua medida, tal como o filho, do pai.&lt;br /&gt;Ele come e respira o pó da pedra enquanto a reduz à sua forma mental.&lt;br /&gt;E na pedra que era pura crava a sua sobrevivência.&lt;br /&gt;Pretende-se alargar. Pretendente da existência.&lt;br /&gt;Mas a pedra era só pedra e pedra será.&lt;br /&gt;Ela já era escultura da força dos tempos e dos elementos.&lt;br /&gt;O homem tornou-a apenas em escultura á sua medida.&lt;br /&gt;O tempo e os elementos em pedra bruta a retornarão à sua aparência.&lt;br /&gt;Ai da memória comprada com tanto labor! O céu ganho com tanto louvor na pedra esculpida! Ruína efémera, a vontade do homem em querer parir o sagrado.&lt;br /&gt;Os elementos em pedra pura, retornarão à sua presença a pseudo-escultura.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-3828344333395788355?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3828344333395788355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3828344333395788355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/03/rocha-que-diz-ao-escultor-ser-perfeita.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-7243147304692979336</id><published>2008-03-12T07:46:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-06-13T19:52:29.467+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O Rapaz que dormia na Sombra</title><content type='html'>Na sombra do sobreiro&lt;br /&gt;Viu o Rapaz ao acordar&lt;br /&gt;farrapos e palha inteiro&lt;br /&gt;o Espantalho a chegar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque permaneces,&lt;br /&gt;querido Espantalho,&lt;br /&gt;no jugo do sol e do vento&lt;br /&gt;sob o frio do orvalho?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque teimas em ficar&lt;br /&gt;Assim de braços no ar&lt;br /&gt;estado tão sofrido&lt;br /&gt;corpo de palha vivido?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fico aqui apenas&lt;br /&gt;pela simples razão&lt;br /&gt;de amar estes pardais&lt;br /&gt;que aqui estão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O cárcere do amor&lt;br /&gt;dita o meu destino&lt;br /&gt;impregna-me sabor&lt;br /&gt;neste lugar existido&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por isso, não temo nem peso&lt;br /&gt;por aqueles que vão,&lt;br /&gt;os amigos que partem&lt;br /&gt;para outra vida ou mundo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque, na verdade&lt;br /&gt;não temo o lugar&lt;br /&gt;para onde vão,&lt;br /&gt;na verdade estando&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aguardo apenas o momento&lt;br /&gt;de os acompanhar,&lt;br /&gt;espero apenas pelo tempo&lt;br /&gt;de ver os pardais esvoaçar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-7243147304692979336?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/7243147304692979336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/7243147304692979336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/03/o-rapaz-que-dormia-na-sombra.html' title='O Rapaz que dormia na Sombra'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-3125033008895107376</id><published>2008-03-10T02:35:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-03-11T17:18:14.706Z</updated><title type='text'>Onda no Silêncio</title><content type='html'>São braços, são pernas&lt;br /&gt;Peitos e crinas de corcéis&lt;br /&gt;Onda gigante distendida&lt;br /&gt;Frente à rocha pavorosa&lt;br /&gt;Atira-se destituída, rebenta&lt;br /&gt;Profusão alvoroça&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trovoou o gongo cabal&lt;br /&gt;No silencio do templo&lt;br /&gt;O átomo primeval&lt;br /&gt;Para saber de onde veio&lt;br /&gt;Ilustrou que o tempo&lt;br /&gt;Era apenas vibração&lt;br /&gt;Emanada do vazio&lt;br /&gt;Explodindo a criação&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-3125033008895107376?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3125033008895107376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3125033008895107376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/03/onda-no-silncio.html' title='Onda no Silêncio'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-677426003173544041</id><published>2008-03-09T20:46:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-03-11T16:36:58.681Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hoje negou o seu coração&lt;br /&gt;Meteu as chaves no carro&lt;br /&gt;Enfiou-se num gavetão&lt;br /&gt;Para o trabalho escravo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje não ouviu as preces&lt;br /&gt;Da natural palpitação&lt;br /&gt;Embrenhou-se nas messes&lt;br /&gt;De uma caída civilização&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buzinaram-se sem conta&lt;br /&gt;Subjugaram-se ao stress&lt;br /&gt;Gritaram sem desponta&lt;br /&gt;Meninos da catequese&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheirou o pó do betão&lt;br /&gt;Escape de almas submetidas&lt;br /&gt;A uma vida de lassidão&lt;br /&gt;De alegrias desvanecidas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje negou o seu coração&lt;br /&gt;Acordaram-no as olheiras&lt;br /&gt;De sonho sonhado em vão&lt;br /&gt;Sem justas parteiras&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje não ouviu as preces&lt;br /&gt;De um sonho calado&lt;br /&gt;Hoje o homem levantou-se&lt;br /&gt;Olvidando o combinado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De que são suas olheiras feitas?&lt;br /&gt;De dormir acordado&lt;br /&gt;Ou de viver a dormir&lt;br /&gt;São pesadas as pálpebras&lt;br /&gt;Do corpo que se arrasta&lt;br /&gt;Faz dos olhos uma tumba&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bebida à pressa a cafeína&lt;br /&gt;Depois da bucha insonsa&lt;br /&gt;Engolida a mebocaína&lt;br /&gt;Afastando a doença pronta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Concentra-se no salário&lt;br /&gt;Da luz sente desdém&lt;br /&gt;E quando o dia se apaga&lt;br /&gt;Não repara que a noite vem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A estrela deixou pousada&lt;br /&gt;O Amplo fogo no céu&lt;br /&gt;A Aureola avermelhada&lt;br /&gt;Num grande sinal esvaneceu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinzas nocturnas caídas na terra&lt;br /&gt;Sobre os vales luzes ateadas&lt;br /&gt;Pl'o homem inconformado&lt;br /&gt;Imerso na treva serrada&lt;br /&gt;Quis fazer da noite outro dia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-677426003173544041?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/677426003173544041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/677426003173544041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/03/hoje-negou-o-seu-corao-meteu-as-chaves.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-4647311234938793745</id><published>2008-03-02T22:19:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-03-06T16:13:20.584Z</updated><title type='text'>Além lança</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1YSP-ol9DeM/R8sosgxtgYI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/6WUJTQ27UEQ/s1600-h/DSCN1902.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173273342142939522" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1YSP-ol9DeM/R8sosgxtgYI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/6WUJTQ27UEQ/s400/DSCN1902.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;Sintra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-4647311234938793745?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4647311234938793745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4647311234938793745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post.html' title='Além lança'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1YSP-ol9DeM/R8sosgxtgYI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/6WUJTQ27UEQ/s72-c/DSCN1902.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5621736254772969264</id><published>2008-02-27T08:59:00.007Z</published><updated>2008-03-06T16:15:25.531Z</updated><title type='text'>O Rei caído</title><content type='html'>Nem preto nem branco&lt;br /&gt;Xadrez mestiço&lt;br /&gt;Tudo é vasto manto&lt;br /&gt;De reis caídos&lt;br /&gt;Joga-se o pranto&lt;br /&gt;De peões submissos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vivem no quadradinho&lt;br /&gt;Estimando-o bem&lt;br /&gt;Até que a mão do emprego&lt;br /&gt;Os atire para além&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não será pela torre&lt;br /&gt;Nem pelo arcebispo&lt;br /&gt;Que será derrotado&lt;br /&gt;Mas pela ideia deificada&lt;br /&gt;Da mente obediente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nem o veloz cavalo&lt;br /&gt;O salvará da jazida&lt;br /&gt;Do cão que foi&lt;br /&gt;Na batalha vencida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não queiras realizar&lt;br /&gt;Para além do preto e do branco&lt;br /&gt;Qualquer vasto campo&lt;br /&gt;Sobre o tabuleiro a planar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não queiras ser&lt;br /&gt;Como a rainha maldita&lt;br /&gt;A única na terra&lt;br /&gt;Que pode morrer e voltar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reza aos céus consentido&lt;br /&gt;Para que venha a tua vez&lt;br /&gt;Para que marches vanguarda&lt;br /&gt;Em destemida altivez&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5621736254772969264?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5621736254772969264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5621736254772969264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/o-rei-cado_27.html' title='O Rei caído'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-4065795670581750978</id><published>2008-02-26T21:45:00.011Z</published><updated>2008-03-05T12:08:20.731Z</updated><title type='text'>Adamastor</title><content type='html'>Sim, eu vi o monstro&lt;br /&gt;Acercar-se à casa&lt;br /&gt;Mirando p’la janela&lt;br /&gt;Na noite abandonada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vi colossais os seus olhos&lt;br /&gt;Do tamanho de duas portas&lt;br /&gt;Espiando minha alma incrédula&lt;br /&gt;Do vazio do seu negrume&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bastaria abrir a garganta&lt;br /&gt;Para tudo absorver, o difamado&lt;br /&gt;Apófis nos seus olhos&lt;br /&gt;Tudo em negro teria devorado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E havia uma criança alienada&lt;br /&gt;Num grave pranto desalmada&lt;br /&gt;Como quem adivinha a besta&lt;br /&gt;Da casa aproximada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ai os gritos inumanos !&lt;br /&gt;De quem não tem escolha&lt;br /&gt;A pobre criança mercê&lt;br /&gt;Das garras avizinhadas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nem os pais aflitos&lt;br /&gt;Nem os anjos benditos&lt;br /&gt;O choro esganiçado estancaram&lt;br /&gt;Na presença do abominável&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Havia pergunta sórdida&lt;br /&gt;No fundo dos dois poços&lt;br /&gt;Olhos na escuridão mórbida&lt;br /&gt;Profundos, negros portais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É por isto que ficas ?&lt;br /&gt;Por estes que morres ?&lt;br /&gt;Oh verme injurioso !&lt;br /&gt;Pela carne que te distrais?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sim, vi o monstro mirando o berço!&lt;br /&gt;Cercado pelo bafo frio da noite sombria&lt;br /&gt;E nas esferas cavadas da besta&lt;br /&gt;Não mais consegui demorar-me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Era abominável chantagem vil&lt;br /&gt;O penetrante olhar covil&lt;br /&gt;Só o demónio dar-te-ia o fardo&lt;br /&gt;De escolher entre aqueles que amas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tudo absorviam as negras urbes&lt;br /&gt;Nada deste mundo ali se reflectia&lt;br /&gt;No imenso hediondo desfiladeiro &lt;br /&gt;Apenas ténue luz persistia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-4065795670581750978?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4065795670581750978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4065795670581750978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/sim-eu-vi-o-monstro-acercar-se-casa.html' title='Adamastor'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-6275211775991877208</id><published>2008-02-25T01:56:00.012Z</published><updated>2009-01-03T15:53:16.837Z</updated><title type='text'>O meu Irmão</title><content type='html'>Queres ser meu irmão&lt;br /&gt;Dar as mãos no caminho&lt;br /&gt;Saltarmos juntos as cercas&lt;br /&gt;Sem medo do advindo ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queres aceitar este farnel&lt;br /&gt;Que preparei com cuidado&lt;br /&gt;Dares um pouco do teu mel&lt;br /&gt;Tão denso e corado?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queres pular esses muros&lt;br /&gt;Golpear trilhos p’la selva&lt;br /&gt;Queres ouvir o som puro&lt;br /&gt;Risos na montanha bela?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queres defender-me a honra&lt;br /&gt;Dar o sangue como paga&lt;br /&gt;E passar uma esponja&lt;br /&gt;No sangue da espada?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acender uma fogueira&lt;br /&gt;Sentar na noite estrelada&lt;br /&gt;Abrir os livros antigos&lt;br /&gt;Contar a história encantada?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queres ser meu irmão&lt;br /&gt;Travar esta longa batalha&lt;br /&gt;Estender com força a mão&lt;br /&gt;Preencher a minha sem falha?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um braço hoje aqui&lt;br /&gt;Uma âncora amanha acolá&lt;br /&gt;A um pacto de sangue assim&lt;br /&gt;Alto exército acudirá&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-6275211775991877208?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6275211775991877208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6275211775991877208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/apep.html' title='O meu Irmão'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-419754036805324313</id><published>2008-02-22T01:47:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-02-27T15:03:24.137Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fecharam o rapaz&lt;br /&gt;cadeia, cercas, ferro&lt;br /&gt;aprisionaram a luz&lt;br /&gt;a vil cadeados perros&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almas enubladas sem amor&lt;br /&gt;narizes eruditos empinados&lt;br /&gt;olhos empertigados ao seu redor&lt;br /&gt;arreganhados dentes, disfarçados&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Livrem-no deste ardor&lt;br /&gt;o colo materno das marés!&lt;br /&gt;salvem-no do pranto esfomeado&lt;br /&gt;de ver cruzes alheias no peito&lt;br /&gt;como sua mísera dor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eis que por entre grades&lt;br /&gt;mareia salubre a maresia&lt;br /&gt;portando o brilho de jade&lt;br /&gt;calmante eternidade...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que fale o Adamastor !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Porque não és os olhos&lt;br /&gt;Vermelhos na noite ardilosa&lt;br /&gt;riso eterno da ovelha&lt;br /&gt;que se lamenta pesarosa&lt;br /&gt;de penosa perene ordenha?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Porque não és Arlequim&lt;br /&gt;Enuble a mente vã&lt;br /&gt;com um pequeno gesto laço&lt;br /&gt;sobre alma desencoberta&lt;br /&gt;a caricatura sã?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Porque não te limitas&lt;br /&gt;a perder o juízo&lt;br /&gt;dízimo ardiloso&lt;br /&gt;dos media da mente?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Porque sofres no juízo&lt;br /&gt;perseguido, por julgar sentido&lt;br /&gt;veemente crer poder&lt;br /&gt;evitar tudo perder?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Porque não és,&lt;br /&gt;pobre rapaz,&lt;br /&gt;tirano imperioso&lt;br /&gt;soberano Adamastor?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-419754036805324313?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/419754036805324313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/419754036805324313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/fecharam-o-rapaz-cadeia-cercas-ferro.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-1273676909978712025</id><published>2008-02-20T13:36:00.003Z</published><updated>2011-07-19T23:50:51.467+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O Príncipe</title><content type='html'>Eu não quero pousar&lt;br /&gt;Dêem-me o fogo&lt;br /&gt;Dêem-me o ar&lt;br /&gt;Aladin sem assentar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em tapete voador&lt;br /&gt;Voo eterno sobre o mar&lt;br /&gt;Em prancha mágica&lt;br /&gt;Sobre o vasto altar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O meu pai é abastado&lt;br /&gt;Deixou-me tesouros e castelos&lt;br /&gt;Templos demasiado belos&lt;br /&gt;Por legiões cobiçados&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas de todos eu escolhi&lt;br /&gt;Logo o fogo e o ar&lt;br /&gt;Por serem, entre aqueles&lt;br /&gt;Os mais estóicos de cavalgar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peito erguido meu Príncipe&lt;br /&gt;Até à morte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leva o fogo&lt;br /&gt;Leva o vento&lt;br /&gt;Sulca bem os pés na terra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não te desvies nunca&lt;br /&gt;Pela inveja da corte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vai no caminho da água&lt;br /&gt;Deixa a cidade para trás&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruma de olhos na fonte&lt;br /&gt;Passando pelas coisas&lt;br /&gt;Todas boas e todas más&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pela morte estás definido&lt;br /&gt;Sabes que nela viverás&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mil e uma noites mor&lt;br /&gt;Nunca acabam, nunca não,&lt;br /&gt;Guardam o infinito no meio&lt;br /&gt;E a unidade ao seu redor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-1273676909978712025?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1273676909978712025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1273676909978712025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/o-prncipe.html' title='O Príncipe'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5268498938274758113</id><published>2008-02-19T17:16:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-02-22T11:44:16.726Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A conquista é a maior das derrotas&lt;br /&gt;É quando o sonho morre&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5268498938274758113?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5268498938274758113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5268498938274758113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/conquista-maior-das-derrotas-quando-o.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-1555449795174744405</id><published>2008-02-18T22:08:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-02-18T17:21:49.744Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>a sombra escura assombrou&lt;br /&gt;a mente do medo mentiu&lt;br /&gt;em cansaço a carne se tornou&lt;br /&gt;no sono que a alma pediu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;era apenas um sonho&lt;br /&gt;uma vida sonhada&lt;br /&gt;de alguém que sentia&lt;br /&gt;voava e caminhava&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;quando o sonho acabou&lt;br /&gt;no acto de perecer&lt;br /&gt;nenhum medo se aportou&lt;br /&gt;do sonho de esmorecer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pois não há mal em morrer&lt;br /&gt;numa vida sonhada&lt;br /&gt;de ver a beleza&lt;br /&gt;que a mente enganava&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;acordado ao saber-se sonhado&lt;br /&gt;no sonho onde vivia o ser&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-1555449795174744405?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1555449795174744405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/1555449795174744405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/era-apenas-um-sonho-uma-vida-sonhada-de.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-238044320580129753</id><published>2008-02-18T20:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-18T13:35:53.614Z</updated><title type='text'>Theta Geminorum</title><content type='html'>Cada um dá uma face&lt;br /&gt;Gémea da face que recebe&lt;br /&gt;E a cada um que recebe&lt;br /&gt;Aprende-se uma face que dá&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-238044320580129753?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/238044320580129753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/238044320580129753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/theta-geminorum.html' title='Theta Geminorum'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-3029332143176772174</id><published>2008-02-18T20:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-18T13:36:06.207Z</updated><title type='text'>A Harpa</title><content type='html'>Houve ali, breves segundos&lt;br /&gt;Em que o homem visitou&lt;br /&gt;Um jardim perdido&lt;br /&gt;Um pátio de concórdia&lt;br /&gt;Onde fizeram infinito&lt;br /&gt;Os braços entrelaçados&lt;br /&gt;Num oito desmedido&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Era um jardim de música&lt;br /&gt;Onde os animais escutavam&lt;br /&gt;A vibração simpática&lt;br /&gt;Das nove cordas de uma harpa&lt;br /&gt;Vinda da arte antiga&lt;br /&gt;De um tempo perdido,&lt;br /&gt;Por breves segundos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-3029332143176772174?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3029332143176772174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3029332143176772174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/harpa.html' title='A Harpa'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-2067821018271879199</id><published>2008-02-18T08:39:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-12-29T12:16:06.732Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Pastor ou a ovelha&lt;br /&gt;Compositor ou intérprete&lt;br /&gt;Arquitecto ou construtor&lt;br /&gt;Mestre ou aluno&lt;br /&gt;Justiça ou justiceiro&lt;br /&gt;Princípio ou fim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apenas interessa viver&lt;br /&gt;Aquilo que Ele quer que seja&lt;br /&gt;Como o infante&lt;br /&gt;Que quando brinca de avião,&lt;br /&gt;Voa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como o Intérprete que brinca de compositor&lt;br /&gt;O Construtor que brinca de arquitecto&lt;br /&gt;Como o Aluno que faz de mestre&lt;br /&gt;O Justiceiro que faz justiça&lt;br /&gt;O Fim que compõe o princípio&lt;br /&gt;A Criança de velha infância&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-2067821018271879199?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2067821018271879199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2067821018271879199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/o-pastor-ou-ovelha-o-compositor-ou.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-6565728194772306303</id><published>2008-02-12T11:07:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-02-12T11:07:56.622Z</updated><title type='text'>O Carrossel</title><content type='html'>A vida é um carrossel&lt;br /&gt;Desde que a roda não pare&lt;br /&gt;Vamos felizes e contentes&lt;br /&gt;Sobre carruagens cadentes&lt;br /&gt;Unicórnios videntes&lt;br /&gt;Não há nada fora da roda&lt;br /&gt;Apenas a negra mão&lt;br /&gt;Deixa que gire&lt;br /&gt;Deixa que gire&lt;br /&gt;Criança no seu coração&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-6565728194772306303?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6565728194772306303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6565728194772306303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/o-carrossel_12.html' title='O Carrossel'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-6247826938022569581</id><published>2008-02-12T10:52:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-02-12T11:26:05.794Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>O teu Amo é aquele que Amas&lt;br /&gt;Porque se eu te Amo&lt;br /&gt;Eu me entrego a ti, meu Amo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Amo meu, a ti entrego-me eu&lt;br /&gt;Amo te eu porque só&lt;br /&gt;Amas aquele que é Amo teu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-6247826938022569581?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6247826938022569581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6247826938022569581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/o-teu-amo-aquele-que-amas-porque-se-eu.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-9102685653931695838</id><published>2008-02-12T10:41:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-02-12T10:59:26.921Z</updated><title type='text'>O Ditame</title><content type='html'>É um vórtice&lt;br /&gt;Só a exalação causa vibração&lt;br /&gt;A inspiração é só causa maior&lt;br /&gt;Daí que se deva dar ou falar quando se expira&lt;br /&gt;Inspirar é para receber&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-9102685653931695838?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/9102685653931695838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/9102685653931695838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/o-ditame.html' title='O Ditame'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-4402037557256646939</id><published>2008-02-10T20:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-11T16:25:27.299Z</updated><title type='text'>Poção Mágica</title><content type='html'>Foi levada pelo vento a vontade&lt;br /&gt;esquecida das pulsações antigas&lt;br /&gt;foi levada para além da saudade&lt;br /&gt;as dores do coração esmorecidas&lt;br /&gt;não bate mais aqui nesta casa&lt;br /&gt;a cruz, o fardo, a chaga&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forçou-se noutra dimensão&lt;br /&gt;embarcou em nave espacial&lt;br /&gt;foi ver na constelação uma estrela&lt;br /&gt;brilhando a derradeira escuridão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como a luz de uma fogueira&lt;br /&gt;na floresta guiando o viajante&lt;br /&gt;de uma bruxa à sua lareira&lt;br /&gt;aguardando o foragido pedante&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bebe o cálice da paz sombrio&lt;br /&gt;fumegado no caldeirão ardente&lt;br /&gt;deita-te na rede suspenso&lt;br /&gt;perdido do espaço proeminente&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-4402037557256646939?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4402037557256646939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4402037557256646939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/po.html' title='Poção Mágica'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-8956734637382208458</id><published>2008-02-08T12:25:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-02-22T14:53:54.690Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Lento&lt;br /&gt;Lentidão&lt;br /&gt;Tudo vagaroso&lt;br /&gt;Como quem está só&lt;br /&gt;Somente só&lt;br /&gt;Perdido vazio&lt;br /&gt;Como o som a que brilha&lt;br /&gt;A pedra da calçada&lt;br /&gt;A arvore que murmura&lt;br /&gt;Só a mente está só&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o resto subsiste&lt;br /&gt;Somente só não permanece&lt;br /&gt;Quase-não permanece&lt;br /&gt;Quase que o tempo pára&lt;br /&gt;Ah! Num minuto a eternidade!&lt;br /&gt;E de repente….&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que está só se conjuga&lt;br /&gt;É tudo movimento&lt;br /&gt;Lento&lt;br /&gt;Vagaroso&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-8956734637382208458?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8956734637382208458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8956734637382208458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/lento-lentido-tudo-vagaroso-como-quem.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-261651842161720304</id><published>2008-02-06T17:41:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-03-06T17:24:39.913Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>não haveria eu de gostar deste mar divino&lt;br /&gt;da água escorrida na face da terra&lt;br /&gt;por esse pranto mineral infinito&lt;br /&gt;de vales enrugados e cavados&lt;br /&gt;por lágrimas caídas do céu feitas&lt;br /&gt;de ser, apenas&lt;br /&gt;amado e temido&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;não haveria eu de gostar deste sal&lt;br /&gt;de um vulgo de cinzas ao mar jogado&lt;br /&gt;de tantos prantos e séculos badalado&lt;br /&gt;não haveria eu de gostar de ser&lt;br /&gt;amado e temido&lt;br /&gt;pó, na água caído&lt;br /&gt;de ser, apenas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Portugal&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-261651842161720304?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/261651842161720304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/261651842161720304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/02/no-haveria-eu-de-gostar-deste-mar.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-3116272925440482310</id><published>2008-01-31T02:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-31T14:43:04.984Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Perfeita sepultura&lt;br /&gt;Vi a morte no teu rosto&lt;br /&gt;Cavar vales profundos&lt;br /&gt;De miserável desgosto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Engoliste em seco&lt;br /&gt;O vazio absoluto&lt;br /&gt;Quiseste acreditar&lt;br /&gt;No elixir resoluto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não vais largar este mundo&lt;br /&gt;Sem ver a futilidade&lt;br /&gt;Do vendilhão do templo&lt;br /&gt;Desvendar a felicidade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vais notar que em montras mortas&lt;br /&gt;Habitam, consumistas absortas&lt;br /&gt;Almas enganadas pela luz&lt;br /&gt;De negras, negras portas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brilha ainda, vã esperança&lt;br /&gt;Em rugas e olhos perdidos&lt;br /&gt;O sorriso de uma criança&lt;br /&gt;Por trilhos merecidos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desampara os vales estéreis&lt;br /&gt;Galga a vereda da fonte&lt;br /&gt;Mirarás como as colinas&lt;br /&gt;São todas verdes montes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-3116272925440482310?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3116272925440482310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3116272925440482310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/01/perfeita-sepultura-vi-morte-no-teu.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5814589403923219241</id><published>2008-01-29T12:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-29T16:07:11.779Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Há qualquer coisa que não é coisa&lt;br /&gt;Que me faz erguer a mão&lt;br /&gt;Que me soergue do chão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há qualquer coisa indefinida&lt;br /&gt;Que define todas as coisas&lt;br /&gt;Que me impele a intenção&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há qualquer coisa&lt;br /&gt;Que a gaivota vê no ar&lt;br /&gt;E que a atravessa&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto estou a boiar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deitado sobre o mar&lt;br /&gt;Perdido na espiral&lt;br /&gt;De qualquer coisa que não é coisa&lt;br /&gt;Que me entontece a pairar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É uma gaivota que me trespassa&lt;br /&gt;É qualquer coisa que com ela,&lt;br /&gt;Esvoaça&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O olho da gaivota&lt;br /&gt;É grande bola de cristal&lt;br /&gt;Negra, baça&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perscruta qualquer coisa&lt;br /&gt;Que é coisa nenhuma&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5814589403923219241?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5814589403923219241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5814589403923219241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/01/h-qualquer-coisa-que-no-coisa-que-me.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-366388977548499069</id><published>2008-01-27T15:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-29T15:51:56.962Z</updated><title type='text'>Faina do Pescador</title><content type='html'>Lançaste rede ao mar,&lt;br /&gt;Que peixes apanhaste?&lt;br /&gt;Apanhaste os desgraçados&lt;br /&gt;Os estripados e drogados&lt;br /&gt;Apanhaste os malditos&lt;br /&gt;Os inglórios e esquecidos&lt;br /&gt;Os vilões e os bandidos&lt;br /&gt;Perdidos nas negras águas&lt;br /&gt;Imersos na escuridão&lt;br /&gt;Apanhaste os corrompidos&lt;br /&gt;Os ignóbeis e perdidos&lt;br /&gt;Não sabes que lá no fundo&lt;br /&gt;Viviam em temor?&lt;br /&gt;Em cada homem afogado&lt;br /&gt;Deformado pelo ardor&lt;br /&gt;Uma esperança palpitava&lt;br /&gt;Um braço fundo aclamava&lt;br /&gt;Pela tua rede lançada?&lt;br /&gt;Que comes tu hoje pescador?&lt;br /&gt;Aquilo que te vier à rede?&lt;br /&gt;O Peixe em teu prato&lt;br /&gt;A faina do teu labor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ergue-se anzol astro rei&lt;br /&gt;Sobre o fundo do mar&lt;br /&gt;Onde se deita a noite sombria&lt;br /&gt;Ergue-se para os guiar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-366388977548499069?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/366388977548499069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/366388977548499069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/01/lanaste-rede-ao-mar-que-peixes.html' title='Faina do Pescador'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-576414170171745275</id><published>2008-01-23T01:54:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-23T12:18:14.804Z</updated><title type='text'>Arco Venéreo</title><content type='html'>Relaxando a corda do arco&lt;br /&gt;Que lhe aperta o peito&lt;br /&gt;Não há seta que dispare&lt;br /&gt;Que não acerte a jeito&lt;br /&gt;Nada esconde em clausura&lt;br /&gt;Digno do seu leito&lt;br /&gt;Coração transparente&lt;br /&gt;O do pequeno arqueiro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em que coração acertará&lt;br /&gt;A criança de arco na mão&lt;br /&gt;Só o coração alvo o dirá&lt;br /&gt;Quão certeira foi a compaixão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Padecerá da ferida que a seta causou&lt;br /&gt;A criança aflita no alvo acertou&lt;br /&gt;Foi transparência que a apaixonou&lt;br /&gt;Em coração sagrado se transfigurou&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-576414170171745275?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/576414170171745275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/576414170171745275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/01/arco-venreo.html' title='Arco Venéreo'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-513428077446838334</id><published>2008-01-22T02:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-24T15:13:10.660Z</updated><title type='text'>Shakuhachi</title><content type='html'>Ecoou, sopro da contemplação&lt;br /&gt;A flauta de bambu que cantava&lt;br /&gt;Junto ao crepitar do lume&lt;br /&gt;Onde a chaleira borbulhava&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O último pôr-do-sol, clarividente&lt;br /&gt;A última dádiva na terra,&lt;br /&gt;A última de todas!&lt;br /&gt;Para beber em admiração&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esvaiu-se o sopro do bambu&lt;br /&gt;Pintou de ouro o silêncio&lt;br /&gt;Os olhos que se fecham&lt;br /&gt;Perdidos na infância revista&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do homem porvir&lt;br /&gt;Sumido na exalação&lt;br /&gt;Da memória que se deita&lt;br /&gt;Longínqua, a poente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há uma flauta que canta,&lt;br /&gt;Submersa em meia-luz&lt;br /&gt;Nem todos a ouvem,&lt;br /&gt;Sopro da contemplação&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://br.youtube.com/watch?v=dTAmDRT8mMw"&gt;...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-513428077446838334?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/513428077446838334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/513428077446838334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/01/shakuhachi.html' title='Shakuhachi'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-3544095744993185427</id><published>2008-01-17T01:59:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-01-31T23:43:43.946Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ri-te, ri-te meu amigo&lt;br /&gt;Aproveita agora,&lt;br /&gt;Eu não te contagio&lt;br /&gt;Ri-te agora, sem demora&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorri de forma rasgada&lt;br /&gt;Como se contemplasses&lt;br /&gt;A face de deus numa ninfa&lt;br /&gt;Habilmente talhada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ri-te, ri-te, meu amigo&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo para o teu inimigo&lt;br /&gt;Destrói o que ele julga&lt;br /&gt;Ser seu juízo temido&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorri de forma rasgada&lt;br /&gt;Deixa que os outros te olhem&lt;br /&gt;Pois quando a tua alma sorrir&lt;br /&gt;Verão que é da face encantada&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-3544095744993185427?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3544095744993185427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3544095744993185427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/01/ri-te-ri-te-meu-amigo-aproveita-agora.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-8359779361522645198</id><published>2008-01-16T17:27:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-01-18T11:25:47.758Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>- Diz-me espantalho encarecido,&lt;br /&gt;Porque pousa no teu braço o pardal&lt;br /&gt;Como se fosse simples galho?&lt;br /&gt;Tu assemelhas o homem original…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Eu sou apenas a sombra&lt;br /&gt;De um homem nascido nas palhas&lt;br /&gt;A seara não existe&lt;br /&gt;É tudo o que a antecede&lt;br /&gt;E o que nela persiste&lt;br /&gt;Semente à terra lançada&lt;br /&gt;Luz que o sol fulgura&lt;br /&gt;Pardal que a degusta&lt;br /&gt;Ceifa que a desbasta&lt;br /&gt;Julgas que a mão é tua?&lt;br /&gt;Que na tua ideia se basta?&lt;br /&gt;Cuidas que pousarão&lt;br /&gt;Se ao cosmos não a cederes?&lt;br /&gt;A seara apenas nos serve,&lt;br /&gt;A tua mão, que serve ela?&lt;br /&gt;A seara não pensa&lt;br /&gt;É apenas passagem&lt;br /&gt;De um ser para o outro&lt;br /&gt;A seara não existe&lt;br /&gt;Para além do que a prevalece&lt;br /&gt;Porque haveriam eles querer&lt;br /&gt;Na tua gaiola pousar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não sou padreco em diocese&lt;br /&gt;Sou guardião desta clareira&lt;br /&gt;Não esperes de mim catequese&lt;br /&gt;Encontra a tua, à tua maneira&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há sempre uma angústia profunda&lt;br /&gt;Corcunda, no mais sábio dos homens&lt;br /&gt;De ignorar ou descrer&lt;br /&gt;Porque se alheia o pássaro&lt;br /&gt;Da douta mão merecida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mete as teorias no bolso,&lt;br /&gt;Rapaz, faz-te à estrada!&lt;br /&gt;Enterra as mãos na algibeira&lt;br /&gt;Não servem esta enxada!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cospes no prato que comes&lt;br /&gt;Sem benzeres o trigo que acolhi&lt;br /&gt;Não fazes jus à espiga&lt;br /&gt;Que fez deste campo um jardim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não voltes a comer deste pão&lt;br /&gt;Sem dar graças à terra lavrada&lt;br /&gt;Sem louvar a sombra do homem&lt;br /&gt;Que abriu o sulco com a enxada&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-8359779361522645198?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8359779361522645198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8359779361522645198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/01/diz-me-espantalho-encarecido-porque.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5083498648941098917</id><published>2008-01-14T01:46:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-01-31T23:37:04.492Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Desce um mocho alado&lt;br /&gt;Sobre o mártir no chão caído&lt;br /&gt;E no ombro pousado esvoaça&lt;br /&gt;Um sussurro ao seu ouvido&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Levanta-te besta!&lt;br /&gt;Agarra a espada!&lt;br /&gt;A tua morte singela&lt;br /&gt;Não é o fim desta estrada!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eis que por fim se levanta, moribundo,&lt;br /&gt;O homem farto de cruzada&lt;br /&gt;E esquarteja com golpe profundo&lt;br /&gt;O abismo que a sombra habitava&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jaz livremente deitado&lt;br /&gt;Ferido pelo seu inimigo&lt;br /&gt;E no vasto campo ensanguentado&lt;br /&gt;Pergunta ao anjo caído:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Até que a morte nos separe...&lt;br /&gt;Do quê, divindade?&lt;br /&gt;No abismo defrontei o maldito&lt;br /&gt;Responde-me, por caridade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Verás quando ela chegar&lt;br /&gt;Sem qualquer dó nem piedade&lt;br /&gt;Caro herói supliciado&lt;br /&gt;Apartar-te da opacidade.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5083498648941098917?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5083498648941098917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5083498648941098917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/01/desce-um-mocho-alado-sobre-o-mrtir-no.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-2379273149134030606</id><published>2008-01-14T01:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-14T01:13:51.120Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mas há inteligência por detrás da vontade?&lt;br /&gt;Há, sim senhor, é vontade feminina&lt;br /&gt;Não te enganes, meu irmão,&lt;br /&gt;A tua vontade é joguete sonhado&lt;br /&gt;Nas mãos da vontade divina.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-2379273149134030606?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2379273149134030606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2379273149134030606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/01/mas-h-inteligncia-por-detrs-da-vontade.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-8968313012099450580</id><published>2008-01-01T01:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-15T12:19:04.944Z</updated><title type='text'>O Espantalho e O Adamastor</title><content type='html'>Indagou o Adamastor:&lt;br /&gt;-O rapaz que por ti passou&lt;br /&gt;Pareceu-te farsante?&lt;br /&gt;Ou acordou no espírito?&lt;br /&gt;No murmúrio da ribeira cintilante?&lt;br /&gt;No frio do orvalho gotejante?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Respingou o Espantalho:&lt;br /&gt;- Quer encenar ainda a farsa&lt;br /&gt;Acordou na carne fantástica&lt;br /&gt;Quer montar o palco&lt;br /&gt;Do espelho que o ego abraça&lt;br /&gt;Contraiu os olhos à luz&lt;br /&gt;Do sol que ofuscou a garça&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bafejou o Adamastor:&lt;br /&gt;-Verá o monstro trovão rugir,&lt;br /&gt;Asas imensas aflorando o ar&lt;br /&gt;Bafo fatal o incendiará&lt;br /&gt;Fardo queimado, para o vento levar&lt;br /&gt;Ao seu destino deixa-lo ir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Minha palha pode o monstro redimir&lt;br /&gt;Não temo nem fogo nem perigo&lt;br /&gt;Apenas pelos pardais estremeço&lt;br /&gt;Que se lhes vá o protegido abrigo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Não receies, Espantalho querido&lt;br /&gt;Que raio algum te atingirá&lt;br /&gt;És testemunha do trigo&lt;br /&gt;Colheita sem ti não haverá&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dispersou o Adamastor&lt;br /&gt;Na noite estrelada&lt;br /&gt;E a brisa suspirou&lt;br /&gt;No dançar da seara:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Apenas o fardo morre&lt;br /&gt;A vida é um portal&lt;br /&gt;Julga-se mais do que a sombra&lt;br /&gt;Batom, pó e rímel&lt;br /&gt;Não sabe onde fica&lt;br /&gt;A sua terra natal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-8968313012099450580?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8968313012099450580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/8968313012099450580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2008/01/o-espantalho-e-o-adamastor.html' title='O Espantalho e O Adamastor'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5513060066114295992</id><published>2007-12-21T20:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-04T10:27:51.670Z</updated><title type='text'>O Rapaz e O Espantalho</title><content type='html'>Guardas o silêncio da planície?&lt;br /&gt;Ó Espantalho esfarrapado!&lt;br /&gt;Porque afugentas a palrice&lt;br /&gt;Dos pardais atribulados?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Velo pela espiga de ouro&lt;br /&gt;Pelo descanso da seara&lt;br /&gt;Fui concebido mouro&lt;br /&gt;Da paz desta estrada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque apavoras ao alvorar&lt;br /&gt;Os passarinhos com desdém?&lt;br /&gt;Trazem Ideias no chilrear?&lt;br /&gt;Que mal sua inocência tem?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sob o meu corpo de palha&lt;br /&gt;Não oiço de noite um pio&lt;br /&gt;Dormem sob as minhas mangas&lt;br /&gt;Faça chuva, vento ou frio&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não é calvário nem pranto&lt;br /&gt;O que aceitas sem temor?&lt;br /&gt;Cobrir de silêncio manto&lt;br /&gt;A planície ao alvor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sou só seara, não tenho pena&lt;br /&gt;De contemplar a solidão&lt;br /&gt;Os homens precisam de sistemas&lt;br /&gt;Para lhes dizerem aquilo que são&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estava apenas a passar&lt;br /&gt;E vi-te aí de braços no ar&lt;br /&gt;De chapéu, palha e trapos&lt;br /&gt;Apeteceu-me perguntar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que importa teologia alheia&lt;br /&gt;Se vês o Monstro no mar?&lt;br /&gt;E ao mergulhar te sentires&lt;br /&gt;Teofania a flutuar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obrigado, espantalho amigo&lt;br /&gt;Bendito sejam os teus pardais&lt;br /&gt;Nas palhas tuas ao abrigo&lt;br /&gt;De noites e negros temporais&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5513060066114295992?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5513060066114295992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5513060066114295992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/12/o-espantalho.html' title='O Rapaz e O Espantalho'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-6321342844030547638</id><published>2007-12-11T21:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-09T15:52:24.362Z</updated><title type='text'>Avenida do Palhaço</title><content type='html'>O palhaço pintou&lt;br /&gt;Um sorriso rasgado&lt;br /&gt;O palhaço pintou&lt;br /&gt;Uma lágrima sentida&lt;br /&gt;O palhaço abriu os braços&lt;br /&gt;No meio da avenida&lt;br /&gt;E ninguém abraçou&lt;br /&gt;O palhaço desgraçado&lt;br /&gt;Que pintou a rua&lt;br /&gt;De luzidia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gentios que se apressam&lt;br /&gt;Semáforos que se fecham&lt;br /&gt;Amarelo, vermelho, verde&lt;br /&gt;Vultos que  se acotovelam&lt;br /&gt;Obtusos, pedestres, cinzentos&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém quer olhar&lt;br /&gt;Para a porta do circo&lt;br /&gt;Com medo de se encerrar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém ousou&lt;br /&gt;Fitar o palhaço&lt;br /&gt;Nos olhos pintados&lt;br /&gt;Com medo&lt;br /&gt;De se abraçar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É deles o estertor?&lt;br /&gt;De braços abertos&lt;br /&gt;O seu redentor&lt;br /&gt;Olha o palhaço!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pagarão bom preço&lt;br /&gt;Para mais tarde&lt;br /&gt;Com o palhaço falar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olha o palhaço!&lt;br /&gt;No meio da avenida&lt;br /&gt;Olha a avenida do palhaço&lt;br /&gt;Porque a calcorreiam&lt;br /&gt;Andarilhos baços&lt;br /&gt;Sem para ele olhar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O palhaço pintou&lt;br /&gt;As cores do semáforo&lt;br /&gt;Que os fazem andar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-6321342844030547638?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6321342844030547638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6321342844030547638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/12/avenida-do-palhao.html' title='Avenida do Palhaço'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-3850883677825686997</id><published>2007-12-07T17:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-07T18:02:52.373Z</updated><title type='text'>Rabiscos invertidos</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1YSP-ol9DeM/R1mKGBYKt0I/AAAAAAAAADs/j-hg9jYcbzs/s1600-h/DragÃ£o+desenhado+por+moi+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141292285673781058" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1YSP-ol9DeM/R1mKGBYKt0I/AAAAAAAAADs/j-hg9jYcbzs/s400/Drag%C3%A3o+desenhado+por+moi+2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1YSP-ol9DeM/R1mKphYKt1I/AAAAAAAAAD0/PMDyLqlu36g/s1600-h/DragÃ£o+desenhado+por+moi+invertido.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141292895559137106" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1YSP-ol9DeM/R1mKphYKt1I/AAAAAAAAAD0/PMDyLqlu36g/s400/Drag%C3%A3o+desenhado+por+moi+invertido.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-3850883677825686997?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3850883677825686997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3850883677825686997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post.html' title='Rabiscos invertidos'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1YSP-ol9DeM/R1mKGBYKt0I/AAAAAAAAADs/j-hg9jYcbzs/s72-c/Drag%C3%A3o+desenhado+por+moi+2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-2051859614358706224</id><published>2007-12-05T10:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-05T16:40:38.367Z</updated><title type='text'>Nevoeiro</title><content type='html'>Na bruma do nevoeiro&lt;br /&gt;Encontram os olhos clausura&lt;br /&gt;De nada ver pelo meio&lt;br /&gt;Do céu caído da altura&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na densidade do fumeiro&lt;br /&gt;Onde os olhos vêm nada&lt;br /&gt;Assoma-se vulto estranho&lt;br /&gt;Erguendo uma espada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Qual o caminho da guerra?&lt;br /&gt;Inquire aparição de guerreiro&lt;br /&gt;Que direcção tomo na terra?&lt;br /&gt;Perscruta no olhar certeiro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixa-te ir no nevoeiro&lt;br /&gt;Oculta-te do inimigo&lt;br /&gt;Invisível pelo meio&lt;br /&gt;Encapotado do perigo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aquele que pisar teu reino&lt;br /&gt;Na bruma densa penetrar&lt;br /&gt;Será criança sem treino&lt;br /&gt;No mistério do teu lar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cercado pela assombração&lt;br /&gt;Nada mais lhe restará&lt;br /&gt;Que render-se à perdição&lt;br /&gt;Pois tombado já estará&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ouvirá o ranger do aço&lt;br /&gt;Desembainhado na claridade&lt;br /&gt;E sua cabeça será pedaço&lt;br /&gt;Tombado na posteridade&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-2051859614358706224?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2051859614358706224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2051859614358706224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/12/na-bruma-do-nevoeiro-encontram-os-olhos.html' title='Nevoeiro'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-713849408471092010</id><published>2007-11-18T23:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-23T13:31:25.232Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sepultado em tumulo poeirento&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Livros esquecidos.&lt;br /&gt;Jaz imóvel, em poltrona bolorenta&lt;br /&gt;Filósofo distraído&lt;br /&gt;Imagem desbotada do que exasperou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nada foi para além do gesto&lt;br /&gt;Por maior a prosa sofrida&lt;br /&gt;Por maior a escrita palmilhada&lt;br /&gt;Ou dialéctica esgrimida&lt;br /&gt;Ruminado por traças que o tumulam&lt;br /&gt;Por maior a platónica oratória&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E a história repetir-se-á&lt;br /&gt;Para gáudio das bafientas bibliotecas&lt;br /&gt;De que a história se desfez satisfeita&lt;br /&gt;Não deu á luz nada&lt;br /&gt;Que antes não tivesse nascido&lt;br /&gt;E dele morrido a oriente, noutros berços&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para que outra criança voltasse&lt;br /&gt;E tocasse no fogo&lt;br /&gt;E o brandisse como estandarte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Assinar não lhe foi permitido,&lt;br /&gt;As últimas palavras que rabiscou&lt;br /&gt;Soltaram-lhe a mão aberta&lt;br /&gt;Em gesto derradeiro&lt;br /&gt;A pena no chão liberta&lt;br /&gt;Para o fim do seu sepulcro&lt;br /&gt;Escreverem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Repousa em cadeirão bafiento&lt;br /&gt;Livros esquecidos&lt;br /&gt;Nuvem sumida do que atormentou&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-713849408471092010?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/713849408471092010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/713849408471092010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/11/sepultado-em-tumulo-poeirento-livros.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5540448720225272453</id><published>2007-11-13T20:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-09T16:02:26.106Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Voam aves distantes no céu&lt;br /&gt;Rumo a longínqua primavera&lt;br /&gt;Como se desta daqui ida&lt;br /&gt;Se apartassem já ausentes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque não voas connosco?&lt;br /&gt;Porque olhas o triângulo no ar?&lt;br /&gt;Porque assentas nessa terra?&lt;br /&gt;Porque ficas aí a pensar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olha o sonho que tiveram&lt;br /&gt;Dos ventos quentes do sul!&lt;br /&gt;Pousados nos lagos nocturnos&lt;br /&gt;Onde se enrolam para dormir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que vertigem te aflige?&lt;br /&gt;Porque não ousas levantar?&lt;br /&gt;Espraiar asas ao raiar?&lt;br /&gt;Estender olhos no fim do mar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Á frente daquele triangulo&lt;br /&gt;Voa um pássaro destemido&lt;br /&gt;Que sonhou mais alto que todos&lt;br /&gt;Que já não sabe acordar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque fizeste casa tão grande?&lt;br /&gt;Porque não a fizeste de palha?&lt;br /&gt;Porque te apegas à obra?&lt;br /&gt;Porque não acordas onde calha?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rumo aos mundos do sul voam&lt;br /&gt;Perdidos deste pensar&lt;br /&gt;No qual me deixam esperançados&lt;br /&gt;Que um dia irão voltar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queres ficar por aí?&lt;br /&gt;Não ter asas para nascer?&lt;br /&gt;Queres fincar os pés na terra?&lt;br /&gt;Ver a tua alma esmorecer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fico-me com a geometria&lt;br /&gt;Admirar o triângulo sem o ser&lt;br /&gt;Foi assim que me ensinaram&lt;br /&gt;Homens sem asas, sem poder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5540448720225272453?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5540448720225272453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5540448720225272453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/11/voam-aves-distantes-no-cu-rumo-longnqua.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-7915646254893940548</id><published>2007-10-30T20:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-14T15:56:42.167Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fina a linha que une céu e mar&lt;br /&gt;Longe está ela do teu olhar&lt;br /&gt;Fina a linha que te separa&lt;br /&gt;O mar de desejo navegado&lt;br /&gt;Da longínqua ilha que amparas&lt;br /&gt;Fina a linha que te submete&lt;br /&gt;À mais odiosa dualidade&lt;br /&gt;Que para este mar te atira&lt;br /&gt;Sem qualquer dó nem piedade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fina a linhagem que te caminha&lt;br /&gt;É miragem a ilha que avistas&lt;br /&gt;Ou vislumbras a verdade?&lt;br /&gt;Lançaste a caravela ao vento&lt;br /&gt;Para desta terra te apartares&lt;br /&gt;Ó homem ingrato! Não te basta!&lt;br /&gt;Fizeste do teu berço uma barca&lt;br /&gt;Tu mereces a dor da saudade&lt;br /&gt;Fina ironia a da tua casta&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-7915646254893940548?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/7915646254893940548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/7915646254893940548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/fina-linha-que-une-cu-e-o-mar-longe-est.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-2174996679656043774</id><published>2007-10-30T15:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-10-31T11:05:19.630Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>sonhar acordado,&lt;br /&gt;voar amarrado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;crer ver para além&lt;br /&gt;de ver sem querer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sonhos amarrados&lt;br /&gt;a voar acordados&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;éter escondido,&lt;br /&gt;vontade de ser&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-2174996679656043774?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2174996679656043774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2174996679656043774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/sonhar-acordado-voar-amarrado-crer-ver.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-61573442196399065</id><published>2007-10-30T03:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-10-30T12:09:48.176Z</updated><title type='text'>Insónia</title><content type='html'>Em cama vazia, se deita um ser, ao abrigo da noite clara de insónia.&lt;br /&gt;Um homem só, com a sua mente, procura encher-se daquilo que não tem. Tenciona preencher em tensão um vazio de significados. Devia-lhe bastar os sentidos. Degustá-los irreflectido, para que a sua solidão fizesse sentido. Para que a saboreasse na companhia do Sentido não intencionado. Mais difícil do que distrair-se é abstrair-se da distracção. De si poderá tentar fugir, mas para além de si nada mais intentará. Precisará de consolo se não se consolar em dar-se aos sentidos. Se quiser agarrar o significado, este não o abraçará.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-61573442196399065?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/61573442196399065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/61573442196399065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/insnia.html' title='Insónia'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-4578840434575462632</id><published>2007-10-25T17:26:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T23:22:46.636Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>- Tenho pena se te fores – balbuciou o rapaz ao gigante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- É um prazer para mim partir. Será um prazer quando esse dia chegar, agradecer o que me ensinaram – Falou erguido sobre o mar – na verdade já parti…. – Disse, ofuscando o céu de negro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Porque te mostraste, Adamastor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Para que não me temesses. Atiraste-te às vagas, como quem ama a tormenta. Foste digno de perecer onde os dois mares se cruzam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- E o que ganhei? – perguntou o rapaz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Nada ganhaste. O que nos é dado, a qualquer momento é retirado. Ganhaste nada.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-4578840434575462632?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4578840434575462632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4578840434575462632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/tenho-pena-se-te-fores-balbuciou-o.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-936776006484695414</id><published>2007-10-23T23:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T15:34:47.675+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A Ceifeira</title><content type='html'>Ousaste esquecer-te da sombra&lt;br /&gt;Na viela recôndita que espia&lt;br /&gt;Escorreita entre o bosque sombrio&lt;br /&gt;O teu passo apressado presencia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hás-de querer virar-lhe as costas&lt;br /&gt;Na esperança que não cheire o medo&lt;br /&gt;Dentes raivosos que rangem&lt;br /&gt;Da tua carne ressoando tão cedo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;És equilibrista em corda bamba&lt;br /&gt;Estirada pela mão da morte&lt;br /&gt;Para a qual ziguezagueias na esperança&lt;br /&gt;Dos efémeros aplausos da sorte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dormes sobre o seu velório&lt;br /&gt;A ceifeira que aconchega o leito&lt;br /&gt;Na qual inclinas para dormir&lt;br /&gt;A rosa seca que murchou teu peito&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E em cada manhã que encanta&lt;br /&gt;Rogas pragas à tua sorte&lt;br /&gt;Ao pescoço que se esquivou da foice&lt;br /&gt;Ao fantasma que enganou a morte&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-936776006484695414?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/936776006484695414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/936776006484695414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/ceifeira.html' title='A Ceifeira'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-5887676232105453719</id><published>2007-10-23T23:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-14T17:22:40.621Z</updated><title type='text'>Ruínas</title><content type='html'>Escava o homem a terra&lt;br /&gt;Na senda de arquétipo submerso&lt;br /&gt;Potes, ossos, pedras&lt;br /&gt;Em busca do homem perdido&lt;br /&gt;Fósseis, flechas, guerras&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em busca do homem perdido&lt;br /&gt;O único animal que se estranha&lt;br /&gt;Esgaravata arqueólogo a terra&lt;br /&gt;Achados, perdidos, encontrados&lt;br /&gt;Revira o homem sua entranha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-5887676232105453719?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5887676232105453719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/5887676232105453719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/escava-o-homem-terra-na-senda-de.html' title='Ruínas'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-3674747542048214848</id><published>2007-10-23T08:33:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T16:39:27.826Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Olhais para o mar revoltado&lt;br /&gt;o palhaço que pesca aflito&lt;br /&gt;que pesca ele perdido&lt;br /&gt;na imensidão daquele conflito?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aí vem a tempestade negra&lt;br /&gt;caótica sobre o céu o mar acerca&lt;br /&gt;pássaros e seres afugentados&lt;br /&gt;paisagem sombria de vida deserta&lt;br /&gt;salvaram-se nas tocas remediados&lt;br /&gt;e sobre as dunas silva o vento apenas&lt;br /&gt;vontade pura da violenta desventura&lt;br /&gt;que ninguém quer encarar&lt;br /&gt;e só há um que se lança ao mar&lt;br /&gt;para as vagas defrontar&lt;br /&gt;o que se ama perdido da tormenta&lt;br /&gt;na inconstância daquele mar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-3674747542048214848?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3674747542048214848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3674747542048214848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/olhais-para-mar-revoltado-o-palhao-que.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-6931820196655931544</id><published>2007-10-17T16:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T17:04:52.202+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O Andrajoso</title><content type='html'>E assim se cruzam no deserto&lt;br /&gt;Peregrinos que apaziguam o caminho&lt;br /&gt;E ao se cruzarem peregrinos&lt;br /&gt;No deserto encontram seu destino&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julgaste que ao vento falavas&lt;br /&gt;Quando a tua voz sobre as dunas ecoou&lt;br /&gt;Mas sob as dunas dormia um peregrino&lt;br /&gt;Que a voz mais deserta ele sonhou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julgavas que falavas sozinho&lt;br /&gt;Mas a tua palavra não coube no corpo&lt;br /&gt;Ela é luz que trespassa em voo&lt;br /&gt;O olhar do caminhante que avistou o corvo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tu falavas da imensidão incansável&lt;br /&gt;Estendida para alem das dunas&lt;br /&gt;Que os pés doridos sabiam alcançável&lt;br /&gt;Mar onde almas caminhantes vivem unas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caminhaste deserto, peregrino andante&lt;br /&gt;Sem saberes que pés te moviam&lt;br /&gt;Na direcção do horizonte distante&lt;br /&gt;Para onde peregrinos te seguiam&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-6931820196655931544?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6931820196655931544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6931820196655931544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/o-andrejante.html' title='O Andrajoso'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-6599899416642217961</id><published>2007-10-11T16:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T17:05:58.005+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Esquece</title><content type='html'>Esquece que as palavras são nada&lt;br /&gt;E que não há discussão possível&lt;br /&gt;Que pronuncie o âmago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esquece que as palavras são fúteis&lt;br /&gt;Quando atiradas à cautela da mente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esquece-te nelas&lt;br /&gt;Mergulha apenas nas palavras&lt;br /&gt;Que gorjeiam das entranhas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E esquece as palavras ditas&lt;br /&gt;Pelos homens esquecidos da Palavra&lt;br /&gt;À mercê do vento dormente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esquece-te&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-6599899416642217961?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6599899416642217961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/6599899416642217961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/esquece-esquece-que-as-palavras-so-nada.html' title='Esquece'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-2522853738607931108</id><published>2007-10-10T14:48:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T15:09:37.755+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Beijas,&lt;br /&gt;Como se quisesses respirar a vontade que transpira&lt;br /&gt;E na vontade confiasses o anseio de respirar&lt;br /&gt;De tocar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tocas,&lt;br /&gt;Como se quisesses esculpir a carne&lt;br /&gt;Tributo erecto a um beijo&lt;br /&gt;Respirado no toque&lt;br /&gt;Dos teus lábios do desejo&lt;br /&gt;Corpo que pede para amar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amas,&lt;br /&gt;Como quem ama o que pousa&lt;br /&gt;Onde dita a sorte mundana &lt;br /&gt;Na gruta firme de ardor sedenta&lt;br /&gt;De na opulência sangrar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sagras-me&lt;br /&gt;Beijas-me&lt;br /&gt;Pousas-me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No leito calmo de um lago&lt;br /&gt;Onde fervores atrozes se afogam&lt;br /&gt;E lírios frondosos renascem&lt;br /&gt;Esculpindo ansiosos &lt;br /&gt;A vontade de respirar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-2522853738607931108?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2522853738607931108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/2522853738607931108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/beijas-me-como-se-me-quisesses-respirar.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-7545238976138296499</id><published>2007-10-04T16:10:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T16:54:24.088+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Passam sinais despercebidos&lt;br /&gt;Não há-de surpresa ser a guerra&lt;br /&gt;Como se fossem merecidos&lt;br /&gt;Rebentar nesta terra&lt;br /&gt;Não quiseram dar ouvidos&lt;br /&gt;Ao gume da lâmina na pedra&lt;br /&gt;Que afiavam entretidos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém escutou os sinais&lt;br /&gt;Aceitaram-nos rendidos&lt;br /&gt;Murmúrios afiados como punhais&lt;br /&gt;Sussurros que falecem esmorecidos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-7545238976138296499?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/7545238976138296499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/7545238976138296499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/passam-sinais-despercebidos-no-h-de.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-3266295484611187038</id><published>2007-10-03T15:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T15:48:39.115+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Deixa passar a chuvada&lt;br /&gt;Lava a cara das lágrimas&lt;br /&gt;Era o céu a derramar-se sobre a terra&lt;br /&gt;Limpando a alma da água&lt;br /&gt;Por isso sorri quando elas caem&lt;br /&gt;Dá graças por chover nesta terra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixai-te ir pela corrente que te leva&lt;br /&gt;Por esse rio abaixo&lt;br /&gt;Que sem pensar te leva&lt;br /&gt;Para a foz do pensamento&lt;br /&gt;Onde a mágoa da razão desagua&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E nele verás liberto&lt;br /&gt;O caminho que se aventura&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-3266295484611187038?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3266295484611187038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/3266295484611187038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/deixa-passar-chuvada-lava-cara-das.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-4540051845136274270</id><published>2007-10-02T15:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T11:56:07.253+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Colocai-lhe uma moeda sob a língua defunta&lt;br /&gt;Metal ganho por valor lamentável&lt;br /&gt;E sem querer dizei ao rio&lt;br /&gt;Pagais a barca que esta margem lhe deixa,&lt;br /&gt;Sem o ouro navegas seu vazio&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas há-de vir ladrão de sepultura&lt;br /&gt;Desvendar riqueza enterrada&lt;br /&gt;E nela sedento encontrar&lt;br /&gt;Tesouro de ouro, moeda pura!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixai-o vir! Avareza escavar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eis que elegendo a cobiça a ser pio&lt;br /&gt;Morte cavada a seu bolso convocará&lt;br /&gt;Barca negra até ao fundo do rio&lt;br /&gt;Para longe desta quimera o arrancará&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ardilosa a sua sepultura revolveu&lt;br /&gt;Aquela que barca incerta deixou&lt;br /&gt;O homem que te roubou a moeda de ouro&lt;br /&gt;Era pobre e lá ficou&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-4540051845136274270?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4540051845136274270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/4540051845136274270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/10/colocai-lhe-uma-moeda-sob-lngua-defunta.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-7677060002203533929</id><published>2007-09-26T11:21:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T15:40:34.231+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Como se chama ele?&lt;br /&gt;Abraço&lt;br /&gt;E tu, como te chamas?&lt;br /&gt;Abraçado&lt;br /&gt;E porque dão-se tão bem?&lt;br /&gt;Porque assim se vive em chama,&lt;br /&gt;E se aprende a abraçar&lt;br /&gt;Ele quem?&lt;br /&gt;Aquele que chama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-7677060002203533929?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/7677060002203533929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/7677060002203533929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/09/como-que-ele-se-chama-abrao-e-como-que.html' title=''/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3548009988266761340.post-586091761922704191</id><published>2007-09-22T13:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T11:32:35.526+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Na praia que brinca o Menino</title><content type='html'>Olha a criança que pula na areia&lt;br /&gt;Não é redoma de cristal o mundo&lt;br /&gt;Não poderás ensinar o teu filho&lt;br /&gt;Recordá-lo-ás apenas&lt;br /&gt;Que correste o mesmo caminho&lt;br /&gt;E quando ele ao fim chegar&lt;br /&gt;Lembrará o seu filho&lt;br /&gt;Que gritaste que se ia magoar&lt;br /&gt;No conforto do teu lar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque me abandonais, Pai?&lt;br /&gt;Para que te magoes no meu caminho&lt;br /&gt;Avista o cristal no brilho&lt;br /&gt;A areia a levantar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3548009988266761340-586091761922704191?l=adamastorasolta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/586091761922704191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3548009988266761340/posts/default/586091761922704191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adamastorasolta.blogspot.com/2007/09/na-praia-que-brinca-o-menino.html' title='Na praia que brinca o Menino'/><author><name>adamastorasolta@gmail.com</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00320177598277188313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
