quinta-feira, novembro 29, 2007

Vi esta pérola pela primeira vez na televisão nos distantes anos 80... era um menino deslumbrado...

I knew a man, Bojangles, and he'd dance for you
In worn out shoes
With the silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants
He would do the old soft shoe
He can jump so high, jump so high
And then he lightly touched down

I met him in a cell in New Orleans, I was
Well, I was down and out
He looked at me to be the very eyes of age
As he spoke right out
Talked of life, Lord, that man talked of life, and laughed
Slapped his leg a step

He said his name was Bojangles, then he danced a lick
Right across the cell
He grabbed his pants, took a better stance, jumped up high
That's when he clicked his heels
Then he let go a laugh, Lord, he let go a laugh
Shook back his clothes all around

That was Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, Lord, he could dance

He told me of the times he worked with minstrel shows
Traveling around the South
He spoke with tears of 15 years how his dog and he
They used to travel about
But his dog up and died, dog up and died
And after 20 years he still grieved

He said, I dance now at every chance at honky tonks
For my drinks and tips
But most the time I spend behind these county bars
You see son, I drinks a bit
Then he shook his head, Lord when he shook his head
I could swear, I heard someone say please, please, please

Mr. Bojangles, ah Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, come back and dance, dance, please dance
Come on and dance now

Oh, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, dance
Come back and dance, Mr. Bojangles

(Confesso não saber quem é autor)

quarta-feira, novembro 28, 2007

Vagamente certo...

“Em rigor, em rigor, penso que as chamadas falsas memórias não existem, que a diferença entre elas e as que consideramos certas e seguras se limita a uma simples questão de confiança, a confiança que em cada situação tivermos sobre essa incorrigível vaguidade a que chamamos certeza.”

José Saramago “As Pequenas Memórias”

quinta-feira, novembro 22, 2007

Sunny day...

It's rainin' but there ain't a cloud in the sky
Must of been a tear from your eye
Everything'll be okay
Funny, though I felt a sweet summer breeze
Must of been your sighin' so deep
Don't worry we're gonna find a way

I'm waitin', waitin' on a sunny day
Gonna chase the clouds away
Waitin' on a sunny day

Without you, I'm workin' with the rain fallin' down
I'm half a party in a one dog town
I need to chase these blues away
Without you, I'm a drummer girl that can't keep a beat
An ice cream truck on a deserted street
I hope that you're coming to stay

I'm waitin', waitin' on a sunny day
Gonna chase the clouds away
Waitin' on a sunny day

Hard time, baby well they come to us all
Sure as the tickin' of the clock on the wall
Sure as the turnin' of the night into day
Your smile girl, brings the mornin' light to my eyes
Lifts away the blues when I rise
I hope that you're coming to stay

I'm waitin', waitin' on a sunny day
Gonna chase the clouds away
Waitin' on a sunny day

Bruce Springsteen "WAITIN' ON A SUNNY DAY"

sábado, novembro 17, 2007

Lições de vida...

A minha primeira, e quase de certeza única e irrepetível, multa por excesso de álcool: 500 euros para aprender.

Parvo, parvo, parvo, parvo...

quinta-feira, novembro 15, 2007

Já lá estás, amigo... até sempre...

"Yô-Yô-Yô, não sei se fico, não sei se vou..."

José Ananias "A Menina do Yô-Yô"
...puta de vida esta que nos leva as pessoas...
"I've seen fire and I've seen rain
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I'd see you again"
James Taylor "Fire and Rain"

segunda-feira, novembro 12, 2007

Não é por nada, só porque acho a palavra refocilar lindíssima...

“São pretas e gordas as ratazanas que, ao cair do sol, se esgueiram, por entre as pedras e vêm refocilar na areia suja.”
Manuel Jorge Marmelo “O profundo silêncio das manhãs de domingo”

sexta-feira, novembro 09, 2007

Breves explicações... touché

"No início, na juventude, julgamos ser impossível passarmos sem elas. Depois, quando as circunstâncias ou a idade obrigam, uma pessoa habitua-se. Resigna-se, talvez. Mas creio que não, que a palavra adequada é essa: hábito."

"O homem, lembrava-se de a ter ouvido dizer mais de uma vez, crê ser amante de uma mulher quando na realidade é só a sua testemunha."

Arturo Pérez-Reverte "O Pintor de Batalhas"

Verdade, senhores, verdade...

"- Por isso sabe, tal como eu, que quando o desatre devolve o homem ao caos do qual provém, todo esse verniz civilizado estala e solta-se e ele torna-se novamente no que era, no que sempre foi: um rematado filho da puta."

Arturo Pérez-Reverte "O Pintor de Batalhas"