...

Combati o bom combate, terminei a corrida, guardei a fé.
(II Timóteo 4,7)

ágape

Se eu falasse as línguas dos homens e as dos anjos, mas não tivesse amor, eu seria como um bronze que soa ou um címbalo que retine. Se eu tivesse o dom da profecia, se conhecesse todos os mistérios e toda a ciência, se tivesse toda a fé, a ponto de remover montanhas, mas não tivesse amor, eu nada seria. Se eu gastasse todos os meus bens no sustento dos pobres e até me entregasse como escravo, para me gloriar, mas não tivesse amor, de nada me aproveitaria.

O amor é paciente, é benfazejo; não é invejoso, não é presunçoso nem se incha de orgulho; não faz nada de vergonhoso, não é interesseiro, não se encoleriza, não leva em conta o mal sofrido; não se alegra com a injustiça, mas fica alegre com a verdade. Ele desculpa tudo, crê tudo, espera tudo, suporta tudo.

O amor jamais acabará. As profecias desaparecerão, as línguas cessarão, a ciência desaparecerá. Com efeito, o nosso conhecimento é limitado, como também é limitado nosso profetizar. Mas, quando vier o que é perfeito, desaparecerá o que é imperfeito.

Quando eu era criança, falava como criança, pensava como criança, raciocinava como criança. Quando me tornei adulto, rejeitei o que era próprio de criança. Agora nós vemos num espelho, confusamente; mas, então, veremos face a face.

Agora, conheço apenas em parte, mas, então, conhecerei completamente, como sou conhecido. Atualmente permanecem estas três: a fé, a esperança, o amor. Mas a maior delas é o amor.

I Coríntios, 13

After a while

Veronica Shoffstall

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn.

Diagnosis

      We multiply diseases for delight,
      invent a shameful want, a horrid doubt,
      luxuriate in license, feed on night,
      make inward bedlam -- and will not
            come out

      Why should we? Stripped of subtle
            complication,
      who could regard the sun except with fear?
      This is our shelter against contemplation,
      our only refuge from the plain and clear.

      Who would crawl out from under
            the obscure
      to stand defenseless in the sunny air?
      No terror of obliquity so sure
      as the most shining terror of despair
      to know how simple is our deepest need,
      how sharp, and how impossible to feed.

Marcia Lee Anderson

dialogo




The art of losing...


One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

(Listen the poem recited by author)

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.