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Filtering by Category: Emojis


Sara Carvalho


I’m a riddle in nine syllables,

An elephant, a ponderous house,

A melon strolling on two tendrils.

O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!

This loaf ’s big with its yeasty rising.

Money’s new-¬minted in this fat purse.

I’m a means, a stage, a cow in calf.

I’ve eaten a bag of green apples,

Boarded a train there’s no getting off.

Sylvia Plath,


Sara Carvalho



There are worse things than having behaved foolishly in public.

There are worse things than these miniature betrayals, committed or

endured or suspected; there are worse things

than not being able to sleep for thinking about them.

It is 5 a.m. All the worse things come stalking in

and stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse and worse.

Fleur Adcock

The orange

Sara Carvalho


The Orange

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange—
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It's new

The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I'm glad I exist. 

Wendy Cope

Crianças KIDS

Sara Carvalho


Crianças KIDS


Criançada correndo na rua
não tem mais, não tem mais
pedalando uma bicicleta
não tem mais, não tem mais

estão todas atadas a tablets
e os raios que saem da tela
fazem danos às cabecinhas
provocando-lhes comportamentos

curto-circuitos neurais!



Angélica Freitas

When You Are Old

Sara Carvalho


When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

W. B. Yeats

Balada da Neve

Sara Carvalho



Balada de Neve


Batem leve, levemente,

como quem chama por mim.

Será chuva? Será gente?

Gente não é, certamente

e a chuva não bate assim.


É talvez a ventania:

mas há pouco, há poucochinho,

nem uma agulha bulia

na quieta melancolia

dos pinheiros do caminho…


Augusto Gil 

Verdes são os campos

Maria S. Mendes


Verdes são os campos,
De cor de limão:
Assim são os olhos
Do meu coração.


Campo, que te estendes
Com verdura bela;
Ovelhas, que nela
Vosso pasto tendes,
De ervas vos mantendes
Que traz o Verão,
E eu das lembranças
Do meu coração.


Gados que pasceis
Com contentamento,
Vosso mantimento
Não no entendereis;
Isso que comeis
Não são ervas, não:
São graças dos olhos
Do meu coração.

Luís de Camões

To be

Maria S. Mendes



To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;

Shakespeare, Hamlet