<?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-30117683</id><updated>2012-02-16T09:38:24.860Z</updated><title type='text'>LABIRINTO DIGITAL</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>150</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-469707087557157445</id><published>2010-01-10T19:07:00.001Z</published><updated>2010-01-10T19:07:42.901Z</updated><title type='text'>Banda Desenhada (7Ano)</title><content type='html'>Check out this SlideShare Presentation: &lt;div style="width:425px;text-align:left" id="__ss_2249709"&gt;&lt;a style="font:14px Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif;display:block;margin:12px 0 3px 0;text-decoration:underline;" href="http://www.slideshare.net/antonius3/banda-desenhada-7-ano-2249709" title="Banda Desenhada (7Ano)"&gt;Banda Desenhada (7Ano)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;object style="margin:0px" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://static.slidesharecdn.com/swf/ssplayer2.swf?doc=bandadesenhada17ano-091016220012-phpapp02&amp;stripped_title=banda-desenhada-7-ano-2249709" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"/&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"/&gt;&lt;embed src="http://static.slidesharecdn.com/swf/ssplayer2.swf?doc=bandadesenhada17ano-091016220012-phpapp02&amp;stripped_title=banda-desenhada-7-ano-2249709" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div style="font-size:11px;font-family:tahoma,arial;height:26px;padding-top:2px;"&gt;View more &lt;a style="text-decoration:underline;" href="http://www.slideshare.net/"&gt;presentations&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a style="text-decoration:underline;" href="http://www.slideshare.net/antonius3"&gt;Antonius&lt;/a&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/30117683-469707087557157445?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/469707087557157445/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=469707087557157445' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/469707087557157445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/469707087557157445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2010/01/banda-desenhada-7ano.html' title='Banda Desenhada (7Ano)'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3216885207649927305</id><published>2009-02-10T14:42:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-02-10T14:47:34.070Z</updated><title type='text'>Recuso tal afronta à língua de Camões</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SZGTNtCLPUI/AAAAAAAAAY8/7s_m26SFMNg/s1600-h/acordo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 220px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SZGTNtCLPUI/AAAAAAAAAY8/7s_m26SFMNg/s320/acordo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301180100028087618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recuso tal afronta à língua de Camões&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-3216885207649927305?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3216885207649927305/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3216885207649927305' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3216885207649927305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3216885207649927305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2009/02/recuso-tal-afronta-lingua-de-camoes.html' title='Recuso tal afronta à língua de Camões'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SZGTNtCLPUI/AAAAAAAAAY8/7s_m26SFMNg/s72-c/acordo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-4124454760087720942</id><published>2008-12-31T22:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-12-31T22:20:31.312Z</updated><title type='text'>Feliz 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;embed src="http://widget-e4.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&amp;amp;il=1&amp;amp;channel=2594073385385466084&amp;amp;site=widget-e4.slide.com" style="width:350px;height:262px" name="flashticker" align="middle"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div style="width:350px;text-align:left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&amp;amp;at=un&amp;amp;id=2594073385385466084&amp;amp;map=1" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-e4.slide.com/p1/2594073385385466084/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&amp;amp;at=un&amp;amp;id=2594073385385466084&amp;amp;map=2" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-e4.slide.com/p2/2594073385385466084/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&amp;at=un&amp;id=2594073385385466084&amp;map=F" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-e4.slide.com/p4/2594073385385466084/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide42.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-4124454760087720942?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/4124454760087720942/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=4124454760087720942' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/4124454760087720942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/4124454760087720942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/12/feliz-2009.html' title='Feliz 2009'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5347231435161896152</id><published>2008-08-12T14:00:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T14:00:56.910+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Humm...Caipi com Bacardi?</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/A6a61hMCQk0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/A6a61hMCQk0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-5347231435161896152?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5347231435161896152/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5347231435161896152' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5347231435161896152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5347231435161896152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/08/hummcaipi-com-bacardi.html' title='Humm...Caipi com Bacardi?'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6788905907226148585</id><published>2008-08-01T23:58:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T00:00:43.317+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Por uma Noite...</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fnGnWPfdU3I&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fnGnWPfdU3I&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tocas no rosto enquanto o ar não sai&lt;br /&gt;inspiro sem medo do acto que vem&lt;br /&gt;Envolvo os pés como mãos&lt;br /&gt;Do toque nasce a nossa ilusão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desenhas os risos de um novo medo&lt;br /&gt;Que o peito demonstra sem qualquer sossego&lt;br /&gt;Faz tempo que a culpa se foi&lt;br /&gt;Ficámos de pensar só depois&lt;br /&gt;Do erro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já pouco nos resta fechar os olhos&lt;br /&gt;Escondemos actos sem qualquer receio ou angustia&lt;br /&gt;Que nos prende a vontade de sentir&lt;br /&gt;O corpo com prazer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rasgas-me a roupa sem qualquer pudor&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto buscas o ar pela boca&lt;br /&gt;Passeias teu cheiro no meu corpo&lt;br /&gt;Por entre os braços misturo tudo&lt;br /&gt;Após o prazer ficaremos mudos&lt;br /&gt;Sem saber&lt;br /&gt;Se é por uma noite&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grito teu nome sem saber&lt;br /&gt;Como será o amanhã&lt;br /&gt;Foi um sonho real&lt;br /&gt;Por uma noite.&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;performed by Klepht&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6788905907226148585?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6788905907226148585/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6788905907226148585' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6788905907226148585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6788905907226148585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/08/por-uma-noite.html' title='Por uma Noite...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3295231361059942759</id><published>2008-07-18T23:32:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T23:42:07.960+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Férias, vacaciones, holidays, vacances...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SIEbChQ4jsI/AAAAAAAAATU/Ui9CyBztzes/s1600-h/P1010011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SIEbChQ4jsI/AAAAAAAAATU/Ui9CyBztzes/s320/P1010011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224486772829359810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SIEav1XVEMI/AAAAAAAAATM/ZmmpbMEIT3U/s1600-h/P1010004+%282%29.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SIEav1XVEMI/AAAAAAAAATM/ZmmpbMEIT3U/s320/P1010004+%282%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224486451807588546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SIEbZYagt7I/AAAAAAAAATc/RSupv2yVPDI/s1600-h/P1010024.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SIEbZYagt7I/AAAAAAAAATc/RSupv2yVPDI/s320/P1010024.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224487165590812594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SIEbyigEqUI/AAAAAAAAATk/OOsimBNbzZE/s1600-h/P1010029.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SIEbyigEqUI/AAAAAAAAATk/OOsimBNbzZE/s320/P1010029.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224487597795223874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-3295231361059942759?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3295231361059942759/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3295231361059942759' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3295231361059942759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3295231361059942759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/07/frias-vacaciones-holidays-vacances.html' title='Férias, vacaciones, holidays, vacances...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SIEbChQ4jsI/AAAAAAAAATU/Ui9CyBztzes/s72-c/P1010011.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6129605567899679506</id><published>2008-07-12T10:36:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T14:03:49.963+01:00</updated><title type='text'>'¿Dónde estás corazón?'</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://good-times.webshots.com/photo/2339560610099188547AzSOPH"&gt;&lt;img src="http://inlinethumb59.webshots.com/43514/2339560610099188547S600x600Q85.jpg" alt="jaimecantizano" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;embed src="http://p.webshots.com/flash/smallplayer.swf?videoFile=http://videoserve.webshots.com/video/19856/3079158390099188547htKUZY_v_0.flv&amp;amp;audio=on&amp;amp;displayImagePreview=http://videothumb17.webshots.com/thumb/19856/3079158390099188547htKUZYstill_002_0.jpg&amp;amp;videoPageUrl=http://good-times.webshots.com/video/3079158390099188547htKUZY&amp;amp;autoPlay=false&amp;amp;shareLink=http://cards.webshots.com/ecard/personalize?photoId=3079158390099188547%26source=v" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350" quality="best" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href="http://good-times.webshots.com/video/3079158390099188547htKUZY"&gt;jaimecantizano_0001.wmv&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6129605567899679506?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6129605567899679506/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6129605567899679506' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6129605567899679506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6129605567899679506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/07/jaime-cantizano.html' title='&apos;¿Dónde estás corazón?&apos;'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-542879944759964452</id><published>2008-07-11T12:13:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T13:17:50.196+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Exame nacionais de Matemática e Português</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;    As politicas da "doce Ministra de Educação" estão a dar o resultado público que pretendia, tanto que finalmente conseguiu "calar" as criticas com uma melhoria estrondosa nas notas à disciplina de Matemática, quer  nos exames de 12º ano, quer nos exames nacionais do 9º ano, que registaram uma enorme melhoria, fruto do "trabalho e esforço de investimento no Plano da Matemática", contudo os especialistas alertaram desde logo para o facilitismo dos exames de Matemática deste ano. Tendo a Sociedade Portuguesa de Matemática considerado a "prova elementar"!!!&lt;br /&gt;  Os resultados da 1ª fase dos exames de Matemática do Ensino Secundário revelaram uma melhoria global, com subida das médias e descida das reprovações,  a média de Matemática passou dos 9,4 do ano passado, para os 12,5 valores deste ano, com as reprovações a descerem de 18 para sete por cento.&lt;br /&gt;  Nos exames nacionais de Matemática de 9º ano (níveis de 1 a 5), a percentagem de alunos com negativa  foi de 44,9 por cento, enquanto que no ano transacto tinha atingido os 72,8 por cento. Este ano, dos 94 832 alunos que realizaram a prova de Matemática, 52 273 tiveram positiva e 42 559 obtiveram menos de três valores. Os alunos com notas de 4 e 5 aumentaram e os alunos com nota mínima (um) desceram  para apenas 3,3%. contra os de 25,6% do ano passado.&lt;br /&gt;  Segundo a ministra "Estes alunos são outros e estão mais bem preparados" e "com o Plano de Acção da Matemática" fizeram "o que fazem os pais quando arranjam explicadores para os filhos".&lt;br /&gt;  Contudo, o cerne da questão não reside aqui, visto que  A Sociedade Portuguesa de Matemática alertara para a facilidade do exame, avisando para a "inflação" que este tipo de exames iria provocar nas notas. O que, efectivamente, se verificou!!!&lt;br /&gt;Mas, para o país e Encarregados de Educação o que interessa não é o "saber real", mas sim os resultados positivos que amaciam raivas e rancores, "tapando o sol com a peneira" do facilitismo.&lt;br /&gt;  Já em Português o caso foi o inverso com descidas percentuais nas notas obtidas.&lt;br /&gt;Nos exames de 12ª ano a média de Português, pela primeira vez em três anos ficou abaixo dos 10 valores, tendo descido de 10,8 para 9,7 e as reprovações subiram de cinco para oito por cento.&lt;br /&gt;Dos 60.281 alunos que realizaram esta prova, oito por cento não conseguiu obter a classificação mínima, um acréscimo de três por cento face ao ano lectivo anterior. Tendo a Associação de Professores de Português (APP), imediatamente após a realização do exame, criticado a prova, sustentando que havia perguntas a suscitar “algumas dúvidas”, tendo sido usada a terminologia linguística em revisão. Edviges Ferreira, Vice Presidente da Associação Professores de Português, considerou que  os resultados dos exames de Português do 12.º ano foram um "descalabro ", mas que não surpreenderam a Associação.&lt;br /&gt;  No exame de Português de 12º ano saiu matéria relativa à obra &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Os Lusíadas&lt;/span&gt; que, no 12º ano são unicamente leccionados em comparação com a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mensagem &lt;/span&gt;de Fernando Pessoa e, no tema para desenvolvimento, foi escolhido um texto do Padre António Vieira, que era do programa do 11.º, provocando confusão e levando muitos alunos&lt;br /&gt;  No exame de 9º ano de Português as coisas também pioraram um pouco, dado que houve 16,7 por cento de reprovações, quando no ano passado só tinham reprovado  13,7 por cento dos alunos. Dos 94 386 alunos que realizaram este exame, 15 819 tiveram notas negativas e 78 567 obtiveram positiva, 0,3 por cento desses alunos não passaram do nível 1, enquanto 16,4 por cento obteve o nível 2, o que corresponde a 16,7 por cento de negativas. No ano passado as negativas tinham correspondido a 13,7 por cento (0,2% no nível 1 e 13,5 no nível 2). Em relação  às notas positivas, 47,2 por cento dos alunos alcançou o nível 3,  enquanto 31,9 por cento obteve o nível 4 e apenas 4,1 por cento atingiu o nível máximo, ou seja nível 5.&lt;span id="ctl00_ctl00_bcr_bcr_ThisContent"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-542879944759964452?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/542879944759964452/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=542879944759964452' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/542879944759964452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/542879944759964452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/07/exame-nacionais-de-matemtica-e-portugus.html' title='Exame nacionais de Matemática e Português'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6597254508128453637</id><published>2008-07-10T15:23:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T15:33:16.614+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sozinho...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-style: italic;"&gt;Às vezes, no silêncio da noite&lt;br /&gt;Eu fico imaginando nós dois&lt;br /&gt;Eu fico ali sonhando acordado, juntando&lt;br /&gt;O antes, o agora e o depois&lt;br /&gt;Por que você me deixa tão solto?&lt;br /&gt;Por que você não cola em mim?&lt;br /&gt;Tô me sentindo muito sozinho!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não sou nem quero ser o seu dono&lt;br /&gt;É que um carinho às vezes cai bem&lt;br /&gt;Eu tenho meus desejos e planos secretos&lt;br /&gt;Só abro pra você mais ninguém&lt;br /&gt;Por que você me esquece e some?&lt;br /&gt;E se eu me interessar por alguém?&lt;br /&gt;E se ela, de repente, me ganha?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando a gente gosta&lt;br /&gt;É claro que a gente cuida&lt;br /&gt;Fala que me ama&lt;br /&gt;Só que é da boca pra fora&lt;br /&gt;Ou você me engana&lt;br /&gt;Ou não está madura&lt;br /&gt;Onde está você agora?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando a gente gosta&lt;br /&gt;É claro que a gente cuida&lt;br /&gt;Fala que me ama&lt;br /&gt;Só que é da boca pra fora&lt;br /&gt;Ou você me engana&lt;br /&gt;Ou não está madura&lt;br /&gt;Onde está você agora?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h2 style="text-align: center;" id="sz"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Sozinho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; - Caetano Veloso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;" id="cmp"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Composição: Peninha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Nk-S7_xxRv4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Nk-S7_xxRv4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6597254508128453637?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6597254508128453637/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6597254508128453637' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6597254508128453637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6597254508128453637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/07/sozinho.html' title='Sozinho...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5320631920279057896</id><published>2008-07-10T00:35:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T00:41:39.196+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Posso?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHVLiqZvv4I/AAAAAAAAASU/7ywZnMK43ks/s1600-h/funny-pictures-kitten-had-a-nightmare.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHVLiqZvv4I/AAAAAAAAASU/7ywZnMK43ks/s320/funny-pictures-kitten-had-a-nightmare.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221162401875869570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;                                                                                                                           &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; (foto retirada da net)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;A tua caminha é tão apetitosa! Apetece-me dormir aí! Posso?? Posso? Só para esquecer este pesadelo! Prometo que não ressono...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-5320631920279057896?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5320631920279057896/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5320631920279057896' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5320631920279057896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5320631920279057896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/07/posso.html' title='Posso?'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHVLiqZvv4I/AAAAAAAAASU/7ywZnMK43ks/s72-c/funny-pictures-kitten-had-a-nightmare.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-7270560708143512041</id><published>2008-07-08T15:09:00.009+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T19:34:28.183+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Blended Baileys</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHN5h3qGiVI/AAAAAAAAASM/8vxXhEov_aE/s1600-h/Baileys+blend+it.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHN5h3qGiVI/AAAAAAAAASM/8vxXhEov_aE/s320/Baileys+blend+it.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220650015835720018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;A Baileys  investiu 1.500.000 euros numa nova campanha de publicidade para televisão.&lt;br /&gt;Segundo a marca, “o spot remete para a conjugação perfeita entre Baileys e o gelo, que dá origem a uma bebida ideal para uma festa numa noite quente de Verão, onde se bebe Baileys Blended.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Blended&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; Baileys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;(Receita retirada da revista &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://sabores.sapo.pt/search/recipes/?cxSource=19"&gt;&lt;span style="color:blue;"&gt;Sabores)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ingredientes&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 12pt 36pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Baileys: 4 cl&lt;br /&gt;Gelo: 3 cubos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;  &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Preparação&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 36pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Coloque três cubos de gelo para cada 4 cl de Baileys numa liquidificadora. Misture até ficar homogéneo e verta para uma taça de cocktail.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 36pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 36pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-7270560708143512041?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/7270560708143512041/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=7270560708143512041' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7270560708143512041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7270560708143512041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/07/blended-baileys.html' title='Blended Baileys'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHN5h3qGiVI/AAAAAAAAASM/8vxXhEov_aE/s72-c/Baileys+blend+it.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-2977216011822853515</id><published>2008-07-08T00:08:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T00:38:27.426+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Esta noite...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKnBl69UWI/AAAAAAAAAQU/iPJk_vjEgHc/s1600-h/noite.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKnBl69UWI/AAAAAAAAAQU/iPJk_vjEgHc/s320/noite.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220418563876933986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Reviver...&lt;br /&gt;Sensações sem nexo.&lt;br /&gt;Num êxtase em crescendo,&lt;br /&gt;Envolto num sussurro que enlouquece.&lt;br /&gt;Calor que inebria.&lt;br /&gt;A mão  num voo  sem rumo.&lt;br /&gt;A seda dum olhar tão profundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;Fugaz, audaz, voraz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-2977216011822853515?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/2977216011822853515/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=2977216011822853515' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2977216011822853515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2977216011822853515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/07/esta-noite.html' title='Esta noite...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKnBl69UWI/AAAAAAAAAQU/iPJk_vjEgHc/s72-c/noite.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3466399093838670162</id><published>2008-07-06T23:16:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T11:48:16.571+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Evanescence-My Immortal</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YxQrPXPSVhQ&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YxQrPXPSVhQ&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma música eterna com um poema maravilhoso:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My Immortal - Evanescence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Composição: Ben Moody / Amy Lee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m so tired of being here&lt;br /&gt;Suppressed by all of my childish fears&lt;br /&gt;And if you have to leave&lt;br /&gt;I wish that you would just leave&lt;br /&gt;Because your presence still lingers here&lt;br /&gt;And it won’t leave me alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These wounds won’t seem to heal&lt;br /&gt;This pain is just too real&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;There’s just too much that time cannot erase&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears&lt;br /&gt;When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears&lt;br /&gt;And I’ve held your hand through all of these years&lt;br /&gt;But you still have all of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You used to captivate me by your resonating light&lt;br /&gt;But now I'm bound by the life you left behind&lt;br /&gt;Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams&lt;br /&gt;Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These wounds won’t seem to heal&lt;br /&gt;This pain is just too real&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;There’s just too much that time cannot erase&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears&lt;br /&gt;When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears&lt;br /&gt;And I’ve held your hand through all of these years&lt;br /&gt;But you still have all of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve tried so hard to tell myself that you’re gone&lt;br /&gt;But though you’re still with me&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been alone all along&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears&lt;br /&gt;When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears&lt;br /&gt;And I’ve held your hand through all of these years&lt;br /&gt;But you still have all of me...of me... me...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-3466399093838670162?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3466399093838670162/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3466399093838670162' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3466399093838670162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3466399093838670162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/07/evanescence-my-immortal.html' title='Evanescence-My Immortal'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5257009701773673328</id><published>2008-07-06T22:09:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T22:32:31.217+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Passeio pelo Guadiana</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE5qTJ_rpI/AAAAAAAAAPk/KqswlnaOWKw/s1600-h/P1010066.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE5qTJ_rpI/AAAAAAAAAPk/KqswlnaOWKw/s320/P1010066.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220016841958600338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE2G4Zo8UI/AAAAAAAAAPc/YsR_53V0q-8/s1600-h/P1010055.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE2G4Zo8UI/AAAAAAAAAPc/YsR_53V0q-8/s320/P1010055.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220012934946156866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE1xiE4qKI/AAAAAAAAAPU/I8TETitAic8/s1600-h/P1010012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE1xiE4qKI/AAAAAAAAAPU/I8TETitAic8/s320/P1010012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220012568176273570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE1kwyZ-vI/AAAAAAAAAPM/At4SuKpluCk/s1600-h/P1010007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE1kwyZ-vI/AAAAAAAAAPM/At4SuKpluCk/s320/P1010007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220012348786998002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE1Rsr2LSI/AAAAAAAAAPE/afNDprZWCa8/s1600-h/P1010001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE1Rsr2LSI/AAAAAAAAAPE/afNDprZWCa8/s320/P1010001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220012021268229410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE1IxSX4OI/AAAAAAAAAO8/z_0PJ66pavA/s1600-h/2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE1IxSX4OI/AAAAAAAAAO8/z_0PJ66pavA/s320/2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220011867884740834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;    Sábado à tarde, temperatura amena (viva à descida de temperatura) e um passeio no jeep do meu irmão pelo Alentejo, mais propriamente na zona dos moinhos do Guadiana. A imagem da água a correr é para mim sempre uma imagem aprazível. Ainda mais com a companhia da princesa da tia, cuja imagem preservo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-5257009701773673328?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5257009701773673328/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5257009701773673328' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5257009701773673328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5257009701773673328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/07/passeio-pelo-guadiana.html' title='Passeio pelo Guadiana'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHE5qTJ_rpI/AAAAAAAAAPk/KqswlnaOWKw/s72-c/P1010066.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-7029008855438433685</id><published>2008-07-03T16:01:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T22:23:02.380+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Os "maninhos"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SGzqR1CeVRI/AAAAAAAAAO0/5wCMjkwrc6w/s1600-h/P1010041.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SGzqR1CeVRI/AAAAAAAAAO0/5wCMjkwrc6w/s320/P1010041.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218803660231693586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Aqui estão os dois donos do meu tempo livre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-7029008855438433685?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/7029008855438433685/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=7029008855438433685' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7029008855438433685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7029008855438433685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/07/os-maninhos.html' title='Os &quot;maninhos&quot;'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SGzqR1CeVRI/AAAAAAAAAO0/5wCMjkwrc6w/s72-c/P1010041.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-4622339871399536690</id><published>2008-07-02T20:08:00.008+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T21:08:37.417+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Cansada, estafada, exaurida...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SGvgF7Q5LGI/AAAAAAAAAOs/YN0o-jsaLXI/s1600-h/morta+de+cansa%C3%A7orrr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SGvgF7Q5LGI/AAAAAAAAAOs/YN0o-jsaLXI/s320/morta+de+cansa%C3%A7orrr.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218510985651367010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;imagem retirada da net&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Apesar do gigantesco cansaço que tenho em cima e que respira por todos os meus poros, consegui cumprir a tarefa "maldita". Nem eu sabia que ia conseguir arranjar forças para superar esta etapa. O que se seguirá?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mais, uma vez neste blog, cito Fernando Pessoa, mais propriamente Álvaro de Campos:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;table&gt; &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt; &lt;td&gt;   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"O que há em mim é sobretudo cansaço —&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    Não disto nem daquilo,&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    Nem sequer de tudo ou de nada:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    Cansaço assim mesmo, ele mesmo,&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    Cansaço.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;    &lt;/b&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt; &lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/center&gt;  &lt;center&gt; &lt;/center&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-4622339871399536690?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/4622339871399536690/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=4622339871399536690' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/4622339871399536690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/4622339871399536690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/07/cansada-estafada-exaurida.html' title='Cansada, estafada, exaurida...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SGvgF7Q5LGI/AAAAAAAAAOs/YN0o-jsaLXI/s72-c/morta+de+cansa%C3%A7orrr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-7620508447051490197</id><published>2008-06-30T21:50:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T20:21:15.593+01:00</updated><title type='text'>E VIVA A ESPANHA!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SGlMp_KNRtI/AAAAAAAAAN4/oxnIhNnYXE8/s1600-h/espanha.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SGlMp_KNRtI/AAAAAAAAAN4/oxnIhNnYXE8/s320/espanha.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217785927498024658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;imagem retirada da net&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A humildade da equipa espanhola deu frutos e temos novos e merecidos campeões!!! E viva a Espanha!&lt;br /&gt;Passados 44 anos, Espanha voltou a ganhar o Europeu, vencendo a Alemanha e impondo o seu magnifico  futebol : Cinco vitórias em seis jogos, sem perder nenhum! O rigor futebolístico e o esforço em equipa tornou Espanha  superior  em todos os domínios do jogo. Não haja dúvidas que esta equipa espanhola  deu uma lição, da qual se podem tirar algumas conclusões.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Quão diferente a modéstia deste treinador espanhol a treinar a sua selecção nacional (como deveria ser obrigatório) com a empáfia e convencimento do brasileiro Scolari armado em vedeta de televisão, mais preocupado em aparecer nos meios de comunicação social do que em mostrar trabalho e tornar as "vedetas" do futebol "nacional" em equipa. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Quão diferente &lt;span id="ctl00_ctl00_bcr_bcr_ThisContent"&gt;a reserva d&lt;/span&gt;o &lt;span id="ctl00_ctl00_bcr_bcr_ThisContent"&gt;seleccionador espanhol,&lt;/span&gt; Luis Aragonés, com o mediatismo de Scolari; mais interessado em entrar em comerciais que lhe encheram o bolso (e se a notícia do jornal Sol estiver correcta "limpos" de impostos);&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Quão diferente o "saber estar" do seleccionador espanhol com as "cenas de pugilato" de Scolari para "defender o &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;minino" e em outras &lt;/span&gt;palhaçadas de mau gosto;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span id="ctl00_ctl00_bcr_bcr_ThisContent"&gt;Quão diferente a posição modesta do  seleccionador espanhol, que se limita a admitir:"Ganhámos, ganhámos bem. E ponto final"...&lt;/span&gt;  da de Scolari que, quando a equipa perde, utiliza como desculpa que "não era preciso ganhar porque já tinham ganho os jogos anteriores". Ridículo, como ridícula foi a prestação dos endeusados jogadores nacionais, com direito a tempos de antena intermináveis e sem se esforçarem por corresponder à cegueira nacional. Pena ninguém lhe ter respondido à letra a Scolari, quando faz aquela pergunta idiota: "E o burro sou eu??". quem mais haveria de ser!...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-7620508447051490197?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/7620508447051490197/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=7620508447051490197' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7620508447051490197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7620508447051490197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/06/humildade-da-equipa-espanhola-deu.html' title='E VIVA A ESPANHA!'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SGlMp_KNRtI/AAAAAAAAAN4/oxnIhNnYXE8/s72-c/espanha.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1036448564800527454</id><published>2008-06-29T14:07:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T14:18:53.147+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da tua vida...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SGeKS8Od8QI/AAAAAAAAANg/k0rZzEfrYy4/s1600-h/PICT2478.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SGeKS8Od8QI/AAAAAAAAANg/k0rZzEfrYy4/s320/PICT2478.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217290751341097218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;A principio é simples, anda-se sozinho&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;passa-se nas ruas bem devagarinho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;está-se bem no silêncio e no burburinho&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;bebe-se as certezas num copo de vinho&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;e vem-nos à memória uma frase batida&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da tua vida&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;Pouco a pouco o passo faz-se vagabundo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;dá-se a volta ao medo, dá-se a volta ao mundo&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;diz-se do passado, que está moribundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;bebe-se o alento num copo sem fundo&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;e vem-nos à memória uma frase batida&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da tua vida&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;E é então que amigos nos oferecem leito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;entra-se cansado e sai-se refeito&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;luta-se por tudo o que se leva a peito&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;bebe-se, come-se e alguém nos diz: bom proveito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;Depois vêm cansaços e o corpo fraqueja&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;olha-se para dentro e já pouco sobeja&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;pede-se o descanso, por curto que seja&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;apagam-se dúvidas num mar de cerveja&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;e vem-nos à memória uma frase batida&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da tua vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;Enfim duma escolha faz-se um desafio&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;enfrenta-se a vida de fio a pavio&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;navega-se sem mar, sem vela ou navio&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;bebe-se a coragem até dum copo vazio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;e vem-nos à memória uma frase batida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da tua vida&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;E entretanto o tempo fez cinza da brasa&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;e outra maré cheia virá da maré vaza&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;nasce um novo dia e no braço outra asa&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,serif;"&gt;brinda-se aos amores com o vinho da casa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;e vem-nos à memória uma frase batida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da tua vida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Sérgio Godinho)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1036448564800527454?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1036448564800527454/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1036448564800527454' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1036448564800527454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1036448564800527454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/06/hoje-o-primeiro-dia-do-resto-da-tua.html' title='Hoje é o primeiro dia do resto da tua vida...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SGeKS8Od8QI/AAAAAAAAANg/k0rZzEfrYy4/s72-c/PICT2478.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-42421761178555318</id><published>2008-06-07T21:58:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T22:23:55.747+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Em devir...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SEr3dsjz2yI/AAAAAAAAALk/l-2GEDPQ6_8/s1600-h/PICT2427.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SEr3dsjz2yI/AAAAAAAAALk/l-2GEDPQ6_8/s400/PICT2427.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209248008557026082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Os meses passam, a viagem prossegue, vamos buscar forças que desconhecemos ter...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-42421761178555318?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/42421761178555318/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=42421761178555318' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/42421761178555318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/42421761178555318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/06/em-devir.html' title='Em devir...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SEr3dsjz2yI/AAAAAAAAALk/l-2GEDPQ6_8/s72-c/PICT2427.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5531235665089141647</id><published>2008-04-24T22:45:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T22:24:50.053+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ai...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SBEAkooC_1I/AAAAAAAAALc/WwhAIsQ1qBk/s1600-h/P1010023.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SBEAkooC_1I/AAAAAAAAALc/WwhAIsQ1qBk/s400/P1010023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192932474715570002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                       A vida é mesmo muito injusta!&lt;br /&gt;                                                   Resta esperar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-5531235665089141647?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5531235665089141647/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5531235665089141647' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5531235665089141647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5531235665089141647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2008/04/ai.html' title='Ai...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SBEAkooC_1I/AAAAAAAAALc/WwhAIsQ1qBk/s72-c/P1010023.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-2720754168798572664</id><published>2007-12-15T13:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-15T13:50:26.311Z</updated><title type='text'>www.sabotadores.com</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/R2PbT1Tn6yI/AAAAAAAAALU/Lv_DR8voqiM/s1600-h/manifesto_header.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144196333160622882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/R2PbT1Tn6yI/AAAAAAAAALU/Lv_DR8voqiM/s400/manifesto_header.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.Ser Sabotador é dizer “não” às festividades como elas são. É dizer não ao perú e ao bacalhau no Natal, aos zorros e princesas no Carnaval, ao coelho e aos ovos (sobretudo, porque os coelhos não põem ovos) da Páscoa, às férias com os pais na aldeia da avó e às fatias douradas e mais o pão-de-ló.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.Para seres um Sabotador, precisas de ter garra, espírito, força de vontade e, vá, dá algum jeito ter também um dos packs Sabotadores, para poderes construir os teus “instrumentos” de sabotagem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.Os Sabotadores reuném-se, quando a vontade dita, sempre virtualmente, e nunca ao vivo e a cores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.Qualquer um pode ser um Sabotador, desde que se inscreva no site da organização desorganizada e concorde com os princípios dos Sabotadores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.Para seres um Sabotador a sério, não podes gostar de filmes de Natal, de ovos da Páscoa, de bombinhas de mau-cheiro, do regresso às aulas ou de presentes tradicionais – ok, uma filhós aqui e ali, ou uma amêndoa quando a fome aperta, também não é grave. Mas, como regra, é de evitar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.Um Sabotador que se preze não envia sms’s de Natal, Carnaval, Páscoa, Férias, Regresso às Aulas, Haloween, e por aí fora, fofos, com referências a velhinhos gordos a descer a chaminé e ovinhos na cesta. Quanto muito, recorre a um dos packs Sabotadores e faz uma montagem fotográfica ou em vídeo a fazer pouco dos amigos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.Se queres ser um Sabotador, tens de aprender as melhores desculpas para sair da mesa mais cedo, de trás para a frente, e saber recitá-las enquanto assobias o “Jingle Bells” ou o tema do “Verão Azul”(o assobio é para disfarçar).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.Quantos mais amigos convidares para sabotar as ocasiões festivas contigo, melhor sabotador serás e maior probabilidade tens de ganhar packs exclusivos dos Sabotadores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.Um bom Sabotador passa as festividades com os seus companheiros Sabotadores, aqui em www.sabotadores.com.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.Sabotador que se preze envia por mail, imprime, recorta, amplia as imagens e conteúdos dos packs Sabotadores – é que, às vezes, os amigos e família precisam de umas dicas…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-2720754168798572664?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/2720754168798572664/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=2720754168798572664' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2720754168798572664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2720754168798572664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/12/wwwsabotadorescom.html' title='www.sabotadores.com'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/R2PbT1Tn6yI/AAAAAAAAALU/Lv_DR8voqiM/s72-c/manifesto_header.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3703212908193954813</id><published>2007-11-06T15:48:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-06T15:55:52.836Z</updated><title type='text'>Encosta-te a mim...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Encosta-te a mim,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;nós já vivemos cem mil anos.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Encosta-te a mim,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;talvez eu esteja a exagerar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Encosta-te a mim,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;dá cabo dos teus desenganos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;não queiras ver quem eu não sou,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;deixa-me chegar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chegada da guerra,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;fiz tudo p´ra sobreviver, em nome da terra,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;no fundo p´ra te merecer&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;recebe-me bem,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;não desencantes os meus passos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;faz de mim o teu herói,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;não quero adormecer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tudo o que eu vi,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;estou a partilhar contigo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;o que não vivi, hei-de inventar contigo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sei que não sei&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;às vezes entender o teu olhar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas quero-te bem,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;encosta-te a mim.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[instrumental]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Encosta-te a mim,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;desatinamos tantas vezes.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vizinha de mim,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;deixa ser meu o teu quintal,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;recebe esta pomba que não está armadilhada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;foi comprada, foi roubada, seja como foi.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eu venho do nada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;porque arrasei o que não quis&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;em nome da estrada, onde só quero ser feliz.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Enrosca-te a mim,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;vai desarmar a flor queimada,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;vai beijar o homem-bomba, quero adormecer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tudo o que eu vi,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;estou a partilhar contigo, e o que não vivi,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;um dia hei-de inventar contigo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sei que não sei, às vezes entender o teu olhar,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mas quero-te bem.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Encosta-te a mim&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Encosta-te a mim&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quero-te bem.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Encosta-te a mim.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jorge Palma&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-3703212908193954813?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://es.youtube.com/watch?v=Tu9HPz__3ys' title='Encosta-te a mim...'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3703212908193954813/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3703212908193954813' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3703212908193954813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3703212908193954813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/11/encosta-te-mim.html' title='Encosta-te a mim...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6967907722558970636</id><published>2007-10-18T15:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T15:24:20.064+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Por isso te invoco...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;Um dia de azul, uma tarde de sol,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Uma mensagem de amizade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;O calor de uma lembrança,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Na memória dos dias.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;A sombra protectora de um abraço,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Para esquecer o cansaço.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Como um guia seguro, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;A luz da tua existência &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Ilumina as trevas do esquecimento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Por isso te invoco, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Neste mundo com pressa,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Ousando enfrentar a frieza&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;De quem julga sem ciência.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;A tua resposta colorirá&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;O secretismo do sentir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Que mais posso pedir?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6967907722558970636?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6967907722558970636/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6967907722558970636' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6967907722558970636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6967907722558970636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/10/por-isso-te-invoco.html' title='Por isso te invoco...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6607925218672724762</id><published>2007-09-08T15:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-08T15:19:27.020+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ring Of Fire</title><content type='html'>Johnny Cash - Ring Of Fire&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is a burning thing&lt;br /&gt;and it makes a firery ring&lt;br /&gt;bound by wild desire&lt;br /&gt;I fell into a ring of fire...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell into a burning ring of fire&lt;br /&gt;I went down,down,down&lt;br /&gt;and the flames went higher.&lt;br /&gt;And it burns,burns,burns&lt;br /&gt;The ring of fire&lt;br /&gt;The ring of fire&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell into a burning ring of fire&lt;br /&gt;I went down,down,down&lt;br /&gt;and the flames went higher.&lt;br /&gt;And it burns,burns,burns&lt;br /&gt;The ring of fire&lt;br /&gt;The ring of fire&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The taste of love is sweet&lt;br /&gt;when hearts like our´s meet&lt;br /&gt;I fell for you like a child&lt;br /&gt;oh, but the fire went wild..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell into a burning ring of fire&lt;br /&gt;I went down,down,down&lt;br /&gt;and the flames went higher.&lt;br /&gt;And it burns,burns,burns&lt;br /&gt;The ring of fire&lt;br /&gt;The ring of fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell into a burning ring of fire&lt;br /&gt;I went down,down,down&lt;br /&gt;and the flames went higher.&lt;br /&gt;And it burns,burns,burns&lt;br /&gt;The ring of fire&lt;br /&gt;The ring of fire&lt;br /&gt;And it burns,burns,burns&lt;br /&gt;The ring of fire&lt;br /&gt;The ring of fire&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6607925218672724762?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6607925218672724762/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6607925218672724762' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6607925218672724762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6607925218672724762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/09/ring-of-fire.html' title='Ring Of Fire'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-2736378135746536402</id><published>2007-09-08T15:15:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-08T15:15:42.321+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I Walk The Line</title><content type='html'>Johnny Cash - I Walk The Line&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep a close watch on this heart of mine&lt;br /&gt;I keep my eyes wide open all the time.&lt;br /&gt;I keep the ends out for the tie that binds&lt;br /&gt;Because you're mine,&lt;br /&gt;I walk the line&lt;br /&gt;I find it very, very easy to be true&lt;br /&gt;I find myself alone when each day is through&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'll admit I'm a fool for you&lt;br /&gt;Because you're mine,&lt;br /&gt;I walk the line&lt;br /&gt;As sure as night is dark and day is light&lt;br /&gt;I keep you on my mind both day and night&lt;br /&gt;And happiness I've known proves that it's right&lt;br /&gt;Because you're mine,&lt;br /&gt;I walk the line&lt;br /&gt;You've got a way to keep me on your side&lt;br /&gt;You give me cause for love that I can't hide&lt;br /&gt;For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide&lt;br /&gt;Because you're mine,&lt;br /&gt;I walk the line&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-2736378135746536402?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/2736378135746536402/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=2736378135746536402' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2736378135746536402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2736378135746536402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-walk-line.html' title='I Walk The Line'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-949747778906083204</id><published>2007-09-08T15:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-08T15:09:33.964+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Time's A Wastin</title><content type='html'>June Carter - Time's A Wastin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I've got arms&lt;br /&gt;And I've got arms&lt;br /&gt;Lets get together and use those arms&lt;br /&gt;Lets go&lt;br /&gt;Times a wastin'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got lips&lt;br /&gt;And I've got lips&lt;br /&gt;Lets get together and use those lips&lt;br /&gt;Lets go&lt;br /&gt;Times a wastin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A cakes no good if you don't mix the batter and bake&lt;br /&gt;it&lt;br /&gt;And loves just a bubble if you don't take the trouble&lt;br /&gt;to make it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you're free to go with me&lt;br /&gt;I'll take you quicker than 1-2-3&lt;br /&gt;Lets go&lt;br /&gt;Times a wastin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I've got blues&lt;br /&gt;And I've got blues&lt;br /&gt;Lets get acquainted and lose those blues&lt;br /&gt;Lets go&lt;br /&gt;Time's a wastin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Ive got feet&lt;br /&gt;And Ive got feet&lt;br /&gt;Lets start to walk with a lovers beat&lt;br /&gt;Lets go&lt;br /&gt;Times a wastin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've got me feelin love like I never have felt it&lt;br /&gt;You're full of sugar and Im think I'm the burner to&lt;br /&gt;melt it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I've got schemes&lt;br /&gt;And I've got schemes&lt;br /&gt;Lets get together and dream some dreams&lt;br /&gt;Lets go&lt;br /&gt;Times a wastin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-949747778906083204?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/949747778906083204/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=949747778906083204' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/949747778906083204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/949747778906083204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/09/times-wastin.html' title='Time&apos;s A Wastin'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1888305231240943089</id><published>2007-09-03T23:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T23:57:59.880+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Carta de Fernando Pessoa a Mário de Sá-Carneiro</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Carta a Mário de Sá-Carneiro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Escrevo-lhe hoje por uma necessidade sentimental - uma ânsia aflita de falar consigo. Como de aqui se depreende, eu nada tenho a dizer-lhe. Só isto - que estou hoje no fundo de uma depressão sem fundo. O absurdo da frase falará por mim. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Estou num daqueles dias em que nunca tive futuro. Há só um presente imóvel com um muro de angústia em torno. A margem de lá do rio nunca, enquanto é a de lá, é a de cá; e é esta a razão íntima de todo o meu sofrimento. Há barcos para muitos portos, mas nenhum para a vida não doer, nem há desembarque onde se &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;esqueça&lt;/span&gt;. Tudo isto aconteceu há muito tempo, mas a minha mágoa é mais antiga. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Em dias da alma como hoje eu sinto bem, em toda a minha consciência do meu corpo, que sou a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;criança&lt;/span&gt; triste em quem a vida bateu. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Puseram&lt;/span&gt;-me a um canto de&lt;br /&gt;onde se ouve brincar. Sinto nas mãos o brinquedo partido que me deram por uma&lt;br /&gt;ironia de lata. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(...) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;...ardem-me os olhos, de ter pensado em chorar. Dói-me a vida aos poucos, a goles, por &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;interstícios&lt;/span&gt;. Tudo isto está impresso em tipo muito pequeno num livro com a brochura a descoser-se. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;De que cor será sentir? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Milhares de &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;abraços&lt;/span&gt; do seu, sempre muito seu, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;FERNANDO PESSOA &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;(texto com supressões)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1888305231240943089?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1888305231240943089/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1888305231240943089' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1888305231240943089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1888305231240943089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/09/carta-de-fernando-pessoa-mrio-de-s.html' title='Carta de Fernando Pessoa a Mário de Sá-Carneiro'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-2461644274462880523</id><published>2007-09-03T23:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T23:42:47.381+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Além-tédio</title><content type='html'>Além-tédio&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nada me expira já, nada me vive ---&lt;br /&gt;Nem a tristeza nem as horas belas.&lt;br /&gt;De as não ter e de nunca vir a tê-las,&lt;br /&gt;Fartam-me até as coisas que não tive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como eu quisera, enfim de alma esquecida,&lt;br /&gt;Dormir em paz num leito de hospital...&lt;br /&gt;Cansei dentro de mim, cansei a vida&lt;br /&gt;De tanto a divagar em luz irreal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outrora imaginei escalar os céus&lt;br /&gt;À força de ambição e nostalgia,&lt;br /&gt;E doente-de-Novo, fui-me Deus&lt;br /&gt;No grande rastro fulvo que me ardia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parti. Mas logo regressei à dor,&lt;br /&gt;Pois tudo me ruiu... Tudo era igual:&lt;br /&gt;A quimera, cingida, era real,&lt;br /&gt;A própria maravilha tinha cor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ecoando-me em silêncio, a noite escura&lt;br /&gt;Baixou-me assim na queda sem remédio;&lt;br /&gt;Eu próprio me traguei na profundura,&lt;br /&gt;Me sequei todo, endureci de tédio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E só me resta hoje uma alegria:&lt;br /&gt;É que, de tão iguais e tão vazios,&lt;br /&gt;Os instantes me esvoam dia a dia&lt;br /&gt;Cada vez mais velozes, mais esguios...                    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Mário de Sá-Carneiro&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-2461644274462880523?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/2461644274462880523/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=2461644274462880523' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2461644274462880523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2461644274462880523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/09/alm-tdio.html' title='Além-tédio'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-7517442223319540366</id><published>2007-09-03T23:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T23:36:56.587+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Serradura</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Serradura &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A minha vida sentou-se&lt;br /&gt;E não há quem a levante,&lt;br /&gt;Que desde o Poente ao Levante&lt;br /&gt;A minha vida fartou-se.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E ei-la, a mona, lá está,&lt;br /&gt;Estendida, a perna traçada,&lt;br /&gt;No infindável sofá&lt;br /&gt;Da minha Alma estofada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pois é assim: a minh'Alma&lt;br /&gt;Outrora a sonhar de Rússias,&lt;br /&gt;Espapaçou-se de calma,&lt;br /&gt;E hoje sonha só pelúcias.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vai aos Cafés, pede um bock,&lt;br /&gt;Lê o "Matin" de castigo,&lt;br /&gt;E não há nenhum remoque&lt;br /&gt;Que a regresse ao Oiro antigo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dentro de mim é um fardo&lt;br /&gt;Que não pesa, mas que maça:&lt;br /&gt;O zumbido dum moscardo,&lt;br /&gt;Ou comichão que não passa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Folhetim da "Capital"&lt;br /&gt;Pelo nosso Júlio Dantas -&lt;br /&gt;Ou qualquer coisa entre tantas&lt;br /&gt;Duma antipatia igual...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O raio já bebe vinho,&lt;br /&gt;Coisa que nunca fazia,&lt;br /&gt;E fuma o seu cigarrinho&lt;br /&gt;Em plena burocracia!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Qualquer dia, pela certa,&lt;br /&gt;Quando eu mal me precate,&lt;br /&gt;É capaz dum disparate,&lt;br /&gt;Se encontra a porta aberta...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isto assim não pode ser...&lt;br /&gt;Mas como achar um remédio?&lt;br /&gt;- Pra acabar este intermédio&lt;br /&gt;Lembrei-me de endoidecer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que era fácil - partindo&lt;br /&gt;Os móveis do meu hotel,&lt;br /&gt;Ou para a rua saindo&lt;br /&gt;De barrete de papel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gritar "Viva a Alemanha"...&lt;br /&gt;Mas a minh'Alma, em verdade,&lt;br /&gt;Não merece tal façanha,&lt;br /&gt;Tal prova de lealdade...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vou deixá-la - decidido -&lt;br /&gt;No lavabo dum Café,&lt;br /&gt;Como um anel esquecido.&lt;br /&gt;É um fim mais raffiné.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paris - setembro 1915&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mário de Sá Carneiro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-7517442223319540366?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/7517442223319540366/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=7517442223319540366' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7517442223319540366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7517442223319540366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/09/serradura.html' title='Serradura'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-571196160069180773</id><published>2007-09-02T11:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-09-02T11:14:46.989+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mágoa</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ainda me espanto com a falsidade das pessoas, com a maldade que delas emana, da vileza que grassa na sociedade actual. Talvez seja uma ingénua, mas não consigo entender a motivação que leva alguém a destruir a reputação, o bem estar, a paz, a calma de outrém pelo simples prazer de magoar, de espezinhar, de humilhar, enfim de ser racionalmente perverso na irracionalidade do pensar, agir e difundir. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, como eu gosto da minha concha, do meu refúgio em mim. Deixem-me estar no meu canto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Observem o vosso interior, o vosso "eu", envergonhem-se e pensem. Será que a cobardia de atacar nas sombras, de dizimar sonhos pela prepotência, de julgar-se com poder e condenar é assim tão embriagante?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-571196160069180773?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/571196160069180773/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=571196160069180773' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/571196160069180773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/571196160069180773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/09/mgoa.html' title='Mágoa'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-2754072924089302866</id><published>2007-08-14T15:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T15:51:55.775+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Arnaldo Jabor - "Não ser de ninguém..."</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Arnaldo Jabor - Não ser de ninguém...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;"Na hora de cantar, todo mundo enche o peito nas boates e gandaias, levanta os braços, sorri e dispara: “eu sou de ninguém, eu sou de todo mundo e todo mundo é meu também”. No entanto, passado o efeito da manguaça coma energético e dos beijos descomprometidos, os adeptos da geração tribalista se dirigem aos consultórios terapêuticos, ou alugam os ouvidos do amigo mais próximo e reclamam de solidão, ausência de interesse das pessoas, descaso e rejeição.&lt;br /&gt;A maioria não quer ser de ninguém, mas quer que alguém seja seu. Beijar na boca é bom? Claro que é! Se manter sem compromisso, viver rodeado de amigos em baladas animadíssimas é legal? Evidente que sim. Mas por que reclamam depois? Será que os grupos tribalistas se esqueceram da velha lição ensinada no colégio, de que toda acção tem uma reacção?&lt;br /&gt;Agir como tribalista tem consequências, boas e ruins, como tudo na vida.&lt;br /&gt;Não dá, infelizmente, para ficar somente com a cereja do bolo - beijar de língua, namorar e não ser de ninguém. Para comer a cereja, é preciso comer o bolo todo e, nele, os ingredientes vão além do descompromisso, como: não receber o famoso telefonema no dia seguinte, não saber se está namorando mesmo depois de sair um mês com a mesma pessoa, não se importar se o outro estiver beijando outra, etc., etc., etc. Embora já saibam namorar, os tribalistas não namoram. “Ficar” também é coisa do passado. A palavra de ordem hoje é namorix. A pessoa pode ter um, dois e até três namorix ao mesmo tempo. Dificilmente está apaixonada por seus namorix, mas gosta da companhia do outro e de manter a ilusão de que não está sozinho. Nessa nova modalidade de relacionamento, ninguém pode se queixar de nada. Caso uma das partes se ausente durante uma semana, a outra deve fingir que nada aconteceu, afinal, não estão namorando. Aliás, quando foi que se estabeleceu que namoro sinónimo de cobrança?&lt;br /&gt;A nova geração prega liberdade, mas acaba tendo visões unilaterais. Assim, como só deseja a cereja do bolo tribal, enxerga somente o lado negativo das relações mais sólidas. Desconhece a delícia de assistir a um filme debaixo das cobertas num dia chuvoso comendo pipoca com chocolate quente, o prazer de dormir junto abraçado, roçando os pés sob as cobertas, e a troca de cumplicidade, carinho e amor.&lt;br /&gt;Namorar é algo que vai muito além das cobranças. É cuidar do outro e ser cuidado por ele, é telefonar só para dizer boa noite, ter uma boa companhia para ir ao cinema de mãos dadas, transar por amor, ter alguém para fazer e receber cafuné, um colo para chorar, uma mão para enxugar lágrimas, enfim, é ter alguém para amar. Já dizia o poeta que amar se aprende amando. Assim, podemos aprender a amar nos relacionando. Trocando experiências, afectos, conflitos e sensações. Não precisamos amar sob os conceitos que nos foram passados. Somos livres para optarmos. E ser livre não é beijar na boca e não ser de ninguém. É ter coragem, ser autêntico e se permitir viver um sentimento... É arriscar, pagar para ver e correr atrás da tão sonhada felicidade. É doar e receber, é estar disponível de alma, para que as surpresas da vida possam aparecer. É compartilhar momentos de alegria e buscar tirar proveito até mesmo das coisas ruins. Ser de todo mundo, não ser de ninguém, é o mesmo que não ter ninguém também... É não ser livre para trocar e crescer... É estar fadado ao fracasso emocional e à tão temida SOLIDÃO…"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-2754072924089302866?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/2754072924089302866/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=2754072924089302866' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2754072924089302866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2754072924089302866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/08/arnaldo-jabor-no-ser-de-ningum.html' title='Arnaldo Jabor - &quot;Não ser de ninguém...&quot;'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-4123796037314015549</id><published>2007-08-14T14:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T15:53:38.955+01:00</updated><title type='text'>"Deliciei-me olhando teu rosto"</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" Deliciei-me olhando teu rosto. Olhei em seus olhos, passei a mão nos seu cabelos, fechei os olhos e foi como se os sentisse, como os meus dedos desfiassem teus cabelos, senti o cheiro da tua pele e o calor dos teus lábios de repente parecia que estavámos juntos, sentia que te podia tocar, beijar, abraçar e deixar-me envolver nos teus encantos. Não. Deixem-me dormir mais um pouco, continuar sonhando com o meu doce pecado, deixem que em meu sonho beije a minha donzela, que salte com ela por montes e vales e nos percamos no infinito".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;V.S.P. &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-4123796037314015549?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/4123796037314015549/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=4123796037314015549' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/4123796037314015549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/4123796037314015549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/08/deliciei-me-olhando-teu-rosto.html' title='&quot;Deliciei-me olhando teu rosto&quot;'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6205209998093753985</id><published>2007-08-14T14:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T14:28:47.597+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O sangue grita dentro de mim</title><content type='html'>A tua voz invade-me os sentidos&lt;br /&gt;Perco-me na sua sonoridade doce.&lt;br /&gt;O medo esvoaça como coloridas borboletas.&lt;br /&gt;A melodia luminosa das palavras inunda-me.&lt;br /&gt;O sangue grita dentro de mim.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto a carícia dos vocábulos,&lt;br /&gt;que me embalam em marés de sonho.&lt;br /&gt;Mergulho na vertigem nocturna.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6205209998093753985?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6205209998093753985/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6205209998093753985' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6205209998093753985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6205209998093753985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/08/o-sangue-grita-dentro-de-mim.html' title='O sangue grita dentro de mim'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1597724204541407190</id><published>2007-08-13T20:57:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T21:06:16.387+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ousar ser, ousar sentir, ousar ouvir, ousar pensar</title><content type='html'>Sonho e não sei se estou acordada, ou a dormir.&lt;br /&gt;Penso e tenho medo, penso e ouso sentir...&lt;br /&gt;As emoções esvoaçam como pássaros, soltas no tempo&lt;br /&gt;Sonhar, pensar, sentir.&lt;br /&gt;Renascer, inspirar e soltar o ar muito devagarinho&lt;br /&gt;Com medo de ser, com medo de estar.&lt;br /&gt;Abrir lentamente os olhos, com o espanto de uma criança...&lt;br /&gt;As emoções a acenarem, reencontradas depois de perdidas,&lt;br /&gt;Os sentidos numa explosão de sinestesias.&lt;br /&gt;Os sons a encherem o corpo de cumplicidades&lt;br /&gt;A voz a preencher dúvidas e medos.&lt;br /&gt;Ousar ser, ousar sentir, ousar ouvir, ousar pensar...&lt;br /&gt;Quero, vou tentar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1597724204541407190?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1597724204541407190/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1597724204541407190' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1597724204541407190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1597724204541407190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/08/ousar-ser-ousar-sentir-ousar-ouvir.html' title='Ousar ser, ousar sentir, ousar ouvir, ousar pensar'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-7839241017267853050</id><published>2007-08-05T23:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T23:23:21.326+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Quero saber de você!Vamos lá... me responda...</title><content type='html'>"&lt;em&gt;Olá! Tudo bem? Quem é você? Como você é?&lt;br /&gt;Não! Não me responda sobre suas características físicas...&lt;br /&gt;Não é isso que pergunto!&lt;br /&gt;Não quero saber da tua aparência... isso pouco importa...&lt;br /&gt;quero saber de você! Se você está bem ou não!&lt;br /&gt;O corpo que tu vestes não mostra quem tu és!&lt;br /&gt;É apenas uma "embalagem" para acolher o teu espírito.&lt;br /&gt;Quero saber como está o teu coração, quero saber de você!&lt;br /&gt;O que me importa é o ser humano que tu és!&lt;br /&gt;O que tu sentes e qual a tua razão de viver.&lt;br /&gt;Se estás feliz ou não!&lt;br /&gt;Se não estás, quem sabe com apenas um pequeno gesto,&lt;br /&gt;eu possa colocar um largo sorriso no teu rosto?&lt;br /&gt;Ou com algumas palavras,&lt;br /&gt;te fazer lembrar o quanto a vida é bela!&lt;br /&gt;Não me importa se és alto ou baixo,&lt;br /&gt;branco ou moreno, se usa óculos ou não.&lt;br /&gt;Qual a diferença que isso faz?&lt;br /&gt;Para mim, nenhuma!&lt;br /&gt;Não é assim que se conhece uma pessoa!&lt;br /&gt;Estamos no virtual!&lt;br /&gt;e aqui o que importa são os sentimentos,&lt;br /&gt;e o poder que as palavras tem.&lt;br /&gt;Quero saber como você está... quero saber de você!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vamos lá... me responda... Quem é você meu amigo(a)?&lt;br /&gt;Não me importa a sua idade,&lt;br /&gt;ou se você está em outra cidade!&lt;br /&gt;Quero te conhecer pelo que tu és,&lt;br /&gt;pelo que tu sentes ou pelo que deixas de sentir!&lt;br /&gt;Quero descobrir a beleza da tua vida...&lt;br /&gt;os teus nobres sentimentos...&lt;br /&gt;Quero saber da tua alma, se ela é pura,&lt;br /&gt;romântica, sonhadora, realizada...&lt;br /&gt;ou se está em uma eterna busca de luz.&lt;br /&gt;Quero descobrir as emoções de estar em tua virtual presença.&lt;br /&gt;Quero saber mais sobre você!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vamos lá... me responda... Quem é você meu amigo(a)?&lt;br /&gt;Não me importa se tens um corpo "sarado" ... "malhado".&lt;br /&gt;Não me importa se tens olhos azuis e cabelos curtos...&lt;br /&gt;Não me importa se estás bronzeado&lt;br /&gt;e em óptima forma física... quero saber do teu conteúdo!&lt;br /&gt;Quero saber da tua forma de pensar&lt;br /&gt;Quero saber dos teus sonhos...&lt;br /&gt;Quero saber do teu riso,&lt;br /&gt;quero que me faças rir com tuas histórias engraçadas...&lt;br /&gt;Ou chorar contigo ao falar das tuas tristezas acumuladas...&lt;br /&gt;Quero saber das tuas emoções!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero saber de você!Vamos lá... me responda...&lt;br /&gt;Quem é você meu amigo(a)?&lt;br /&gt;Fala-me dos teus sonhos de infância...&lt;br /&gt;Ou da tua louca juventude...&lt;br /&gt;Fala-me das tuas lembranças, das tuas virtudes...&lt;br /&gt;Vamos trocar felicidades?&lt;br /&gt;Eu te dou um pouco da minha...&lt;br /&gt;e você me dá um pouco da sua!&lt;br /&gt;Não!&lt;br /&gt;Não me importa se o teu computador é o mais actual,&lt;br /&gt;Se tens Windows XP , ou se é um velho PC,&lt;br /&gt;Porque o mais importante para mim,&lt;br /&gt;é saber da tua alma...&lt;br /&gt;é saber de você!&lt;br /&gt;E aproveite ao máximo a vida...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(retirado da net)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-7839241017267853050?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/7839241017267853050/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=7839241017267853050' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7839241017267853050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7839241017267853050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/08/ol-tudo-bem-quem-voc-como-voc-no-no-me.html' title='Quero saber de você!Vamos lá... me responda...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6135497703572342301</id><published>2007-08-04T22:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-04T22:20:18.905+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Terra Dos Sonhos</title><content type='html'>Jorge Palma - Terra Dos Sonhos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andava eu sem ter onde cair vivo&lt;br /&gt;Fui procurar abrigo nas frases estudadas do senhor&lt;br /&gt;doutor&lt;br /&gt;Ai de mim não era nada daquilo que eu queria&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém se compreendia e eu vi que a coisa ia de mal a&lt;br /&gt;pior&lt;br /&gt;Na terra dos sonhos, podes ser quem tu és, ninguém te&lt;br /&gt;leva a mal&lt;br /&gt;Na terra dos sonhos toda a gente trata a gente toda&lt;br /&gt;por igual&lt;br /&gt;Na terra dos sonhos não há pó nas entrelinhas, ninguém&lt;br /&gt;se pode enganar&lt;br /&gt;Abre bem os olhos, escuta bem o coração, se é que&lt;br /&gt;queres ir para lá morar&lt;br /&gt;Andava eu sozinho a tremer de frio&lt;br /&gt;Fui procurar calor e ternura nos braços de uma mulher&lt;br /&gt;Mas esqueci-me de lhe dar também um pouco de atenção&lt;br /&gt;E a minha solidão não me largou da mão nem um minuto&lt;br /&gt;sequer&lt;br /&gt;Na terra dos sonhos, podes ser quem tu és, ninguém te&lt;br /&gt;leva a mal&lt;br /&gt;Na terra dos sonhos toda a gente trata a gente toda&lt;br /&gt;por igual&lt;br /&gt;Na terra dos sonhos não há pó nas entrelinhas, ninguém&lt;br /&gt;se pode enganar&lt;br /&gt;Abre bem os olhos, escuta bem o coração, se é que&lt;br /&gt;queres ir para lá morar&lt;br /&gt;Se queres ver o Mundo inteiro à tua altura&lt;br /&gt;Tens de olhar para fora, sem esqueceres que dentro é&lt;br /&gt;que é o teu lugar&lt;br /&gt;E se às duas por três vires que perdeste o balanço&lt;br /&gt;Não penses em descanso, está ao teu alcance, tens de o&lt;br /&gt;reencontrar&lt;br /&gt;Na terra dos sonhos, podes ser quem tu és, ninguém te&lt;br /&gt;leva a mal&lt;br /&gt;Na terra dos sonhos toda a gente trata a gente toda&lt;br /&gt;por igual&lt;br /&gt;Na terra dos sonhos não há pó nas entrelinhas, ninguém&lt;br /&gt;se pode enganar&lt;br /&gt;Abre bem os olhos, escuta bem o coração, se é que&lt;br /&gt;queres ir para lá morar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6135497703572342301?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6135497703572342301/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6135497703572342301' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6135497703572342301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6135497703572342301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/08/terra-dos-sonhos.html' title='Terra Dos Sonhos'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1232792056647727072</id><published>2007-08-04T22:14:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-04T22:14:53.355+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Quem Me Leva Os Meus Fantasmas</title><content type='html'>Pedro Abrunhosa - Quem Me Leva Os Meus Fantasmas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aquele era o tempo em que as mãos se fechavam&lt;br /&gt;E nas noites brilhantes as palavras voavam&lt;br /&gt;E eu via que o céu me nascia dos dedos&lt;br /&gt;E a Ursa Maior eram ferros acessos&lt;br /&gt;Marinheiros perdidos em portos distantes&lt;br /&gt;Em bares escondidos em sonhos gigantes&lt;br /&gt;E a cidade vazia da cor do asfalto&lt;br /&gt;E alguém me pedia que cantasse mais alto&lt;br /&gt;Quem me leva os meus fantasmas&lt;br /&gt;Quem me salva desta espada&lt;br /&gt;Quem me diz onde é a estrada&lt;br /&gt;Aquele era o tempo em que as sombras se abriam&lt;br /&gt;Em que homens negavam o que outros erguiam&lt;br /&gt;Eu bebia da vida em goles pequenos&lt;br /&gt;Tropeçava no riso abraçava venenos&lt;br /&gt;De costas voltadas não se vê o futuro&lt;br /&gt;Nem o rumo da bala nem a falha no muro&lt;br /&gt;E alguém me gritava com voz de profeta&lt;br /&gt;Que o caminho se faz entre o alvo e a seta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De que serve ter o mapa se o fim está traçado&lt;br /&gt;De que serve até à vista se o barco está parado&lt;br /&gt;De que serve ter a chave se a porta está aberta&lt;br /&gt;De que servem as palavras se a casa está deserta&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1232792056647727072?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1232792056647727072/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1232792056647727072' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1232792056647727072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1232792056647727072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/08/quem-me-leva-os-meus-fantasmas.html' title='Quem Me Leva Os Meus Fantasmas'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1950258990381027700</id><published>2007-08-04T22:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-04T22:10:14.144+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ao Fim Do Mundo</title><content type='html'>Ala Dos Namorados - Ao Fim Do Mundo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vou alimentar a tua sede de querer&lt;br /&gt;Vou acicatar a tua fome de prazer&lt;br /&gt;Vou ao fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Vou tocar lá no teu fundo&lt;br /&gt;Vou fechar o punho e pôr o sangue a ferver&lt;br /&gt;Vou cerrar os dentes e morder o teu saber&lt;br /&gt;Vou ao fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Vou gritar lá no teu fundo&lt;br /&gt;Sou teu&lt;br /&gt;Sou teu&lt;br /&gt;Sou assim só para quem dá&lt;br /&gt;E só assim faz com que eu vá&lt;br /&gt;Ao fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Ao fim e ao cabo do teu ser&lt;br /&gt;Sou e só apenas uma gota de suor&lt;br /&gt;Sou um claro aceno quando rufa o tambor&lt;br /&gt;Sou o fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;A contagem ao segundo&lt;br /&gt;És todo o tempo que me resta à liberdade&lt;br /&gt;És a minha luta que só fala com verdade&lt;br /&gt;És o fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;À entrada da cidade&lt;br /&gt;Sou teu&lt;br /&gt;Sou teu&lt;br /&gt;Sou assim só para quem dá&lt;br /&gt;E só assim faz com que eu vá&lt;br /&gt;Ao fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Ao fim e ao cabo do teu ser&lt;br /&gt;Vou fechar o punho e pôr o sangue a ferver&lt;br /&gt;Vou cerrar os dentes e morder o teu saber&lt;br /&gt;Vou ao fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Vou gritar lá no teu fundo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1950258990381027700?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1950258990381027700/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1950258990381027700' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1950258990381027700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1950258990381027700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/08/ao-fim-do-mundo.html' title='Ao Fim Do Mundo'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-202375846692640571</id><published>2007-06-24T00:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-24T00:13:49.833+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Rn2pAw9EpcI/AAAAAAAAALM/8cS4JyfcTgQ/s1600-h/FIL6196.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079401785349940674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Rn2pAw9EpcI/AAAAAAAAALM/8cS4JyfcTgQ/s400/FIL6196.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Esquece-se todos os dias. Todos os dias chega a morte."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Espido Freire&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-202375846692640571?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/202375846692640571/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=202375846692640571' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/202375846692640571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/202375846692640571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/06/esquece-se-todos-os-dias.html' title=''/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Rn2pAw9EpcI/AAAAAAAAALM/8cS4JyfcTgQ/s72-c/FIL6196.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6884785865839142913</id><published>2007-06-23T11:55:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-23T12:02:28.371+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Os cinco princípios do Reiki</title><content type='html'>Os cinco princípios do Reiki&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hoje, não te zangues nem critiques. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hoje, não te preocupes. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hoje, sê grato pelas múltiplas bênçãos que recebes. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hoje, faz honestamente o teu trabalho. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hoje, respeita o teu semelhante e tudo o que vive. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onmouseover="MM_swapImage('grato','','../images/grato2.gif',1)" onmouseout="MM_swapImgRestore()" href="http://www.desperta.com/html/grato.htm"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onmouseover="MM_swapImage('grato','','../images/grato2.gif',1)" onmouseout="MM_swapImgRestore()" href="http://www.desperta.com/html/grato.htm"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6884785865839142913?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6884785865839142913/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6884785865839142913' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6884785865839142913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6884785865839142913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/06/os-cinco-princpios-do-reikiv.html' title='Os cinco princípios do Reiki'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1081426233528559508</id><published>2007-06-10T23:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-10T23:59:11.650+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Queria</title><content type='html'>Queria voar,&lt;br /&gt;sobrevoar-me&lt;br /&gt;e ir mais além.&lt;br /&gt;Fugir das vicissitudes do dia-a-dia,&lt;br /&gt;da hipocrisia de quem nos cumprimenta&lt;br /&gt;e depois nos cospe nas costas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queria ser um peixe&lt;br /&gt;e nadar na voragem das marés.&lt;br /&gt;Deixar a solidão da multidão&lt;br /&gt;fazer amor com a espuma das ondas&lt;br /&gt;numa comunhão de sal e água&lt;br /&gt;sentir a fidelidade do abraço mortal do mar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queria fugir de mim,&lt;br /&gt;desta concha que detesto,&lt;br /&gt;deixar de sofrer&lt;br /&gt;deixar de me sentir assim&lt;br /&gt;tão perdida dentro de mim&lt;br /&gt;Queria adormecer num sonho lindo&lt;br /&gt;e não voltar a sofrer...&lt;br /&gt;sair deste mundo que não tem lugar para mim.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1081426233528559508?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1081426233528559508/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1081426233528559508' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1081426233528559508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1081426233528559508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/06/queria.html' title='Queria'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-4034320239129672133</id><published>2007-05-27T17:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-27T17:43:44.864+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Fim</title><content type='html'>Fim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando eu morrer batam em latas,&lt;br /&gt;Rompam aos saltos e aos pinotes,&lt;br /&gt;Façam estalar no ar chicotes,&lt;br /&gt;Chamem palhaços e acrobatas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que o meu caixão vá sobre um burro&lt;br /&gt;Ajaezado à andaluza...&lt;br /&gt;A um morto nada se recusa,&lt;br /&gt;Eu quero por força ir de burro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mário de Sá Carneiro&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-4034320239129672133?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/4034320239129672133/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=4034320239129672133' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/4034320239129672133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/4034320239129672133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/05/fim.html' title='Fim'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3042411563883428098</id><published>2007-05-12T23:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-12T23:53:19.374+01:00</updated><title type='text'>SE POR ACASO (ME VIRES POR AÍ)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RkZECNzr92I/AAAAAAAAALE/YLikYJkHvck/s1600-h/FIL1153.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063809635881580386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 377px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="248" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RkZECNzr92I/AAAAAAAAALE/YLikYJkHvck/s400/FIL1153.JPG" width="490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&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/30117683-3042411563883428098?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3042411563883428098/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3042411563883428098' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3042411563883428098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3042411563883428098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/05/blog-post.html' title='SE POR ACASO (ME VIRES POR AÍ)'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RkZECNzr92I/AAAAAAAAALE/YLikYJkHvck/s72-c/FIL1153.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-9178693593776128706</id><published>2007-05-07T21:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T21:26:20.115+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Minha Escura Sombra</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Minha Escura Sombra&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"É tão escura, tão profunda,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O ponto máximo da profundidade.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quase não a vejo,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;É tão disforme, sem forma alguma.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tento olhá-la,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas não encontro um ponto para a focar,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas ela olha-me,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não lhe vejo os olhos...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas sei que me observa.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Persegue-me e vagueia,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;como eu...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pois não pode fugir.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Minha escura sombra..."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luis Miguel Costa&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-9178693593776128706?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/9178693593776128706/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=9178693593776128706' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/9178693593776128706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/9178693593776128706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/05/minha-escura-sombra.html' title='Minha Escura Sombra'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-7648787403969327892</id><published>2007-04-22T13:04:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-27T18:05:49.710+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RitPt9JPpqI/AAAAAAAAAKs/fIqdDPCumVQ/s1600-h/P1010019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056222657579558562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RitPt9JPpqI/AAAAAAAAAKs/fIqdDPCumVQ/s320/P1010019.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&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/30117683-7648787403969327892?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/7648787403969327892/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=7648787403969327892' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7648787403969327892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7648787403969327892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/04/dor.html' title='Dor'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RitPt9JPpqI/AAAAAAAAAKs/fIqdDPCumVQ/s72-c/P1010019.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1876265394934781143</id><published>2007-04-22T12:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-06-24T00:10:06.802+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Solidão</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RitAw9JPppI/AAAAAAAAAKk/40crV_UTUiI/s1600-h/FIL2978.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056206216444749458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RitAw9JPppI/AAAAAAAAAKk/40crV_UTUiI/s320/FIL2978.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A solidão instalou-se dentro de mim.&lt;br /&gt;Recuso qualquer convite antes de o ouvir,&lt;br /&gt;o meu coração encerrou-se atrás de uma porta de betão.&lt;br /&gt;Nada me anima, nada faz bater mais forte o meu coração aprisionado.&lt;br /&gt;E assim vogo nos dias cismando o que fui e não recuperarei&lt;br /&gt;As lágrimas tornaram-se a minha fuga e o meu consolo&lt;br /&gt;Não sei em que direcção agir, só penso em fugir para dentro de mim&lt;br /&gt;É tão bom este esconderijo inexpugnável.&lt;br /&gt;E assim a vida não me chama e esquece-se que eu existo&lt;br /&gt;Morrendo lenta e conscientemente.&lt;br /&gt;O crepúsculo é a minha mortalha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1876265394934781143?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1876265394934781143/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1876265394934781143' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1876265394934781143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1876265394934781143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/04/solido-instalou-se-dentro-de-mim.html' title='Solidão'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RitAw9JPppI/AAAAAAAAAKk/40crV_UTUiI/s72-c/FIL2978.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-8883308906198896139</id><published>2007-04-21T21:06:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T21:33:11.097+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Quase</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Quase&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um pouco mais de sol - eu era brasa,&lt;br /&gt;Um pouco mais de azul - eu era além&lt;br /&gt;Para atingir, faltou-me um golpe de asa ...&lt;br /&gt;Se ao menos eu permanecesse aquém ...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Assombro ou paz ? Em vão ... Tudo esvaído&lt;br /&gt;Num grande mar enganador d´espuma;&lt;br /&gt;E o grande sonho despertado em bruma,&lt;br /&gt;O grande sonho - ó dor ! - quase vivido ...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quase o amor, quase o triunfo e a chama,&lt;br /&gt;Quase o princípio e o fim - quase a expansão ...&lt;br /&gt;Mas na minh´alma tudo se derrama ...&lt;br /&gt;Entanto nada foi só ilusão !&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;De tudo houve um começo ... e tudo errou ...&lt;br /&gt;- Ai a dor de ser-quase, dor sem fim ...&lt;br /&gt;Eu falhei-me entre os mais, falhei em mim,&lt;br /&gt;Asa que se elançou mas não voou ...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Momentos de alma que desbaratei ...&lt;br /&gt;Templos aonde nunca pus um altar ...&lt;br /&gt;Rios que perdi sem os levar ao mar ...&lt;br /&gt;Ânsias que foram mas que não fixei ...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Se me vagueio, encontro só indícios ...&lt;br /&gt;Ogivas para o sol - vejo-as cerradas;&lt;br /&gt;E mãos d' heroi, sem fé, acobardadas,&lt;br /&gt;Puseram grades sobre os precipícios ...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Num ímpeto difuso de quebranto,&lt;br /&gt;Tudo encetei e nada possuí ...&lt;br /&gt;Hoje, de mim, só resta o desencanto&lt;br /&gt;Das coisas que beijei mas não vivi ...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um pouco mais de sol - e fora brasa,&lt;br /&gt;Um pouco mais de azul - e fora além.&lt;br /&gt;Para atingir faltou-me um golpe d´asa ...&lt;br /&gt;Se ao menos eu permanecesse aquém ...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mário de Sá-Carneiro&lt;br /&gt;in &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poemas Completos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-8883308906198896139?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/8883308906198896139/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=8883308906198896139' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8883308906198896139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8883308906198896139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/04/quase_21.html' title='Quase'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-8655010702068586085</id><published>2007-04-21T20:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T20:56:02.433+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Labirinto ou não foi nada</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Labirinto ou não foi nada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Talvez houvesse uma flor&lt;br /&gt;aberta na tua mão.&lt;br /&gt;Podia ter sido amor,&lt;br /&gt;e foi apenas traição.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;É tão negro o labirinto&lt;br /&gt;que vai dar à tua rua. . .&lt;br /&gt;Ai de mim, que nem pressinto&lt;br /&gt;a cor dos ombros da Lua!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Talvez houvesse a passagem&lt;br /&gt;de uma estrela no teu rosto.&lt;br /&gt;Era quase uma viagem:&lt;br /&gt;foi apenas um desgosto.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;É tão negro o labirinto&lt;br /&gt;que vai dar à tua rua...&lt;br /&gt;Só o fantasma do instinto&lt;br /&gt;na cinza do céu flutua.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tens agora a mão fechada;&lt;br /&gt;no rosto, nenhum fulgor.&lt;br /&gt;Não foi nada, não foi nada:&lt;br /&gt;podia ter sido amor.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David Mourão Ferreira&lt;br /&gt;in &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;À Guitarra e à Viola&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Obra Poética&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-8655010702068586085?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/8655010702068586085/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=8655010702068586085' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8655010702068586085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8655010702068586085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/04/labirinto-ou-no-foi-nada.html' title='Labirinto ou não foi nada'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1498424534819044982</id><published>2007-04-21T20:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T20:51:50.368+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Quem escreve</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quem escreve&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quem escreve quer morrer, quer renascer &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;num ébrio barco de calma confiança. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quem escreve quer dormir em ombros matinais &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;e na boca das coisas ser lágrima animal&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ou o sorriso da árvore. Quem escreve &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;quer ser terra sobre terra, solidão &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;adorada, resplandecente, odor de morte &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;e o rumor do sol, a sede da serpente, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;o sopro sobre o muro, as pedras sem caminho, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;o negro meio-dia sobre os olhos. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;António Ramos Rosa&lt;br /&gt;in &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ACORDES,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1498424534819044982?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1498424534819044982/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1498424534819044982' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1498424534819044982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1498424534819044982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/04/quem-escreve.html' title='Quem escreve'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-565488799826182773</id><published>2007-04-21T20:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T20:45:44.494+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mãos feridas na porta dum silêncio</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mãos feridas na porta dum silêncio&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vida que às costas me levas&lt;br /&gt;porque não dás um corpo às tuas trevas?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Porque não dás um som àquela voz&lt;br /&gt;que quer rasgar o teu silêncio em nós?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Porque não dás à pálpebra que pede&lt;br /&gt;aquele olhar que em ti se perde?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Porque não dás vestidos à nudez&lt;br /&gt;que só tu vês?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Natália Correia&lt;br /&gt;in &lt;em&gt;Poesia Completa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-565488799826182773?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/565488799826182773/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=565488799826182773' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/565488799826182773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/565488799826182773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/04/mos-feridas-na-porta-dum-silncio.html' title='Mãos feridas na porta dum silêncio'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6975974484577427781</id><published>2007-04-21T14:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T14:59:16.036+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Que música escutas tão atentamente</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Que música escutas tão atentamente&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que música escutas tão atentamente&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;que não dás por mim?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que bosque, ou rio, ou mar?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ou é dentro de ti&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;que tudo canta ainda?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Queria falar contigo,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;dizer-te apenas que estou aqui,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;mas tenho medo,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;medo que toda a música cesse&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;e tu não possas mais olhar as rosas.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Medo de quebrar o fio&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;com que teces os dias sem memória.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Com que palavras&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ou beijos ou lágrimas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;se acordam os mortos sem os ferir,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;sem os trazer a esta espuma negra&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;onde corpos e corpos se repetem,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;parcimoniosamente, no meio de sombras?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deixa-te estar assim,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ó cheia de doçura,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;sentada, olhando as rosas,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;e tão alheia&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;que nem dás por mim.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eugénio de Andrade&lt;br /&gt;(Coração do dia)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6975974484577427781?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6975974484577427781/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6975974484577427781' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6975974484577427781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6975974484577427781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/04/que-msica-escutas-to-atentamente.html' title='Que música escutas tão atentamente'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1503994665008663624</id><published>2007-04-21T14:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T14:52:21.416+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Há Dias</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Há Dias&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Há dias em que julgamos &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;que todo o lixo do mundo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;nos cai em cima &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;depois ao chegarmos à varanda avistamos &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;as crianças correndo no molhe &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;enquanto cantam&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;não lhes sei o nome &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;uma ou outra parece-me comigo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;quero eu dizer : &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;com o que fui &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;quando cheguei a ser luminosa &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;presença da graça&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ou da alegria &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;um sorriso abre-se então &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;num verão antigo &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;e dura &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;dura ainda. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eugénio de Andrade&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;in Os lugares de Lume&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1503994665008663624?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1503994665008663624/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1503994665008663624' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1503994665008663624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1503994665008663624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/04/h-dias-h-dias-em-que-julgamos-que-todo.html' title='Há Dias'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3505716131239832746</id><published>2007-04-21T14:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T14:51:47.828+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Cada dia é mais evidente que partimos</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Cada dia é mais evidente que partimos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cada dia é mais evidente que partimos&lt;br /&gt;Sem nenhum possível regresso no que fomos,&lt;br /&gt;Cada dia as horas se despem mais do alimento:&lt;br /&gt;Não há saudades nem terror que baste.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen&lt;br /&gt;Antologia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-3505716131239832746?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3505716131239832746/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3505716131239832746' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3505716131239832746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3505716131239832746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/04/cada-dia-mais-evidente-que-partimos.html' title='Cada dia é mais evidente que partimos'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-2216955689819048948</id><published>2007-04-21T14:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T14:51:08.786+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Obrigada Ana e Tininha</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RioSctJPpnI/AAAAAAAAAKU/o8s80FXHZ2s/s1600-h/P1010001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5055873816040810098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RioSctJPpnI/AAAAAAAAAKU/o8s80FXHZ2s/s320/P1010001.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Há quem ponha flores no meu caminho, para que eu esqueça as dores. Mil obrigadas....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-2216955689819048948?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/2216955689819048948/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=2216955689819048948' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2216955689819048948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2216955689819048948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/04/obrigada-ana-e-tininha.html' title='Obrigada Ana e Tininha'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RioSctJPpnI/AAAAAAAAAKU/o8s80FXHZ2s/s72-c/P1010001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3012231823889452903</id><published>2007-04-07T18:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T16:14:29.611+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Morta</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RipoTtJPpoI/AAAAAAAAAKc/cmeKnBebtBE/s1600-h/FIL4895.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5055968219421976194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RipoTtJPpoI/AAAAAAAAAKc/cmeKnBebtBE/s320/FIL4895.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sinto-me morta&lt;br /&gt;Logo estou morta.&lt;br /&gt;Respirar é um mero defeito,&lt;br /&gt;que com o tempo será desfeito.&lt;br /&gt;Morta para esta merda de vida&lt;br /&gt;Morta para quem me tirou o sol&lt;br /&gt;Morta para quem me enforcou a esperança&lt;br /&gt;Morta para tudo.&lt;br /&gt;Deixem-me enrolada como um bicho de conta,&lt;br /&gt;Embrulhada no sofrimento do engano...&lt;br /&gt;De quem me extorquiu tudo até ao último alento&lt;br /&gt;E que  faz disso alarde e vanglória.&lt;br /&gt;E eu? Calada, agrilhoada, amortalhada em vida,&lt;br /&gt;Enfim, morta.&lt;br /&gt;Como era bom deitar-me&lt;br /&gt;e não voltar a acordar...&lt;br /&gt;Mas nada é tão simples comigo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-3012231823889452903?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3012231823889452903/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3012231823889452903' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3012231823889452903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3012231823889452903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/04/morta.html' title='Morta'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RipoTtJPpoI/AAAAAAAAAKc/cmeKnBebtBE/s72-c/FIL4895.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6870883267796359764</id><published>2007-03-04T00:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-05-27T18:06:31.286+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Circo de Feras</title><content type='html'>Circo de Feras&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vida vai torta&lt;br /&gt;Jamais se endireita&lt;br /&gt;O azar persegue&lt;br /&gt;Esconde-se à espreita&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nunca dei um passo&lt;br /&gt;Que fosse correcto&lt;br /&gt;Eu nunca fiz nada&lt;br /&gt;Que batesse certo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De modo que a vida&lt;br /&gt;É um circo de feras&lt;br /&gt;E os entretantos&lt;br /&gt;São as minhas esperas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;letra: Tim música: Xutos &amp;amp; Pontapés&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6870883267796359764?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6870883267796359764/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6870883267796359764' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6870883267796359764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6870883267796359764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/03/circo-de-feras.html' title='Circo de Feras'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3612708730049315729</id><published>2007-03-04T00:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-05-27T18:07:32.200+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Homem do Leme</title><content type='html'>Sozinho na noite&lt;br /&gt;Um barco ruma, para onde vai?&lt;br /&gt;Uma luz no escuro&lt;br /&gt;Brilha a direito, ofusca as demais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E mais que uma onda, mais que uma maré&lt;br /&gt;Tentaram prendê-lo, impor-lhe uma fé&lt;br /&gt;Mas vogando à vontade, rompendo a saudade&lt;br /&gt;Vai quem já nada teme, vai o homem do leme&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;E uma vontade de rir&lt;br /&gt;Nasce no fundo do ser&lt;br /&gt;E uma vontade de ir&lt;br /&gt;Correr o mundo e partir&lt;br /&gt;A vida é sempre a perder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No fundo do mar &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jazem os outros, os que lá ficaram &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Em dias cinzentos &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Descanso eterno lá encontraram&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;letra: Tim música: Xutos &amp;amp; Pontapés&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-3612708730049315729?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3612708730049315729/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3612708730049315729' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3612708730049315729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3612708730049315729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/03/homem-do-leme.html' title='Homem do Leme'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-8646036160909945311</id><published>2007-03-03T23:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-04-21T14:27:25.837+01:00</updated><title type='text'>O sofrimento torna-se egoistamente invisível.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReoInwmYJqI/AAAAAAAAAKA/hkGh1xuK-IM/s1600-h/P1010018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037848612321109666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReoInwmYJqI/AAAAAAAAAKA/hkGh1xuK-IM/s320/P1010018.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReoIOwmYJpI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/KPXavKXEuV8/s1600-h/P1010018.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;O sofrimento torna-se egoistamente invisível&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReoD1wmYJoI/AAAAAAAAAJs/YgzALkaLOm0/s1600-h/P1010018.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hoje a minha alma confessou-se&lt;br /&gt;Admitiu-se ainda ferida,&lt;br /&gt;Magoada na rugosidade dos seus dias,&lt;br /&gt;Escondida na penumbra da dor.&lt;br /&gt;E as lágrimas regressaram&lt;br /&gt;Sem pedir licença, sem me avisarem...&lt;br /&gt;Quando menos espero&lt;br /&gt;A solidão dos dias sufoca-me no meio das pessoas.&lt;br /&gt;Uma música triste invade-me o ser&lt;br /&gt;Já não sei como enganar a tristeza.&lt;br /&gt;Caí na ilusão de julgar que conseguia&lt;br /&gt;Esqueci-me que, o riso inesperadamente&lt;br /&gt;desagua nas lágrimas, e a dor transborda-me...&lt;br /&gt;Queria uma borracha que apagasse os meus dias&lt;br /&gt;e só deixasse a paz que me foge entre os dedos.&lt;br /&gt;Queria esquecer&lt;br /&gt;Queria ser forte&lt;br /&gt;Queria voltar a ser eu...&lt;br /&gt;Estou novamente a perder a batalha.&lt;br /&gt;Disfarço, escondo-me dentro de mim,&lt;br /&gt;O sofrimento torna-se egoistamente invisível.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&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/30117683-8646036160909945311?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/8646036160909945311/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=8646036160909945311' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8646036160909945311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8646036160909945311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/03/o-sofrimento-torna-se-egoistamente.html' title='O sofrimento torna-se egoistamente invisível.'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReoInwmYJqI/AAAAAAAAAKA/hkGh1xuK-IM/s72-c/P1010018.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5966533215457035317</id><published>2007-03-03T20:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-03T20:49:40.253Z</updated><title type='text'>Frágil</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://jorgepalma.web.pt/fotos_amp/Palma%2000.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://jorgepalma.web.pt/fotos_amp/Palma%2000.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://jorgepalma.web.pt/fotos_amp/Palma%2000.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;http://jorgepalma.web.pt/fotos_amp/Palma%2000.jpg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Frágil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Põe-me o braço no ombro&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eu preciso de alguém&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dou-me com toda a gente&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não me dou a ninguém&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sinto-me frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Faz-me um sinal qualquer&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Se me vires falar demais&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eu às vezes embarco&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Em conversas banais&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sinto-me frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Esta noite estou tão frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Já nem consigo ser ágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Está a saber-me mal&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Este Whisky de malte&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Adorava estar "in"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas estou-me a sentir "out"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sinto-me frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Acompanha-me a casa&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Já não aguento mais&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Deposita na cama&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Os meus restos mortais&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sinto-me frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Esta noite estou tão frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Frágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Já nem consigo ser ágil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Jorge Palma&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-5966533215457035317?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://jorgepalma.web.pt/' title='Frágil'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5966533215457035317/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5966533215457035317' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5966533215457035317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5966533215457035317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/03/frgil.html' title='Frágil'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-8735260441514937369</id><published>2007-03-02T19:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-02T19:49:45.945Z</updated><title type='text'>JP SIMÕES - 1970</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Reh-6QmYJnI/AAAAAAAAAJc/hEkqchWI6iw/s1600-h/index_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037415722567345778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Reh-6QmYJnI/AAAAAAAAAJc/hEkqchWI6iw/s200/index_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Um disco completamente diferente do que estava à espera do ex-vocalista dos Belle Chase Hotel, gostei imenso da sonoridade despida de artifícios. A voz pura sem máscaras.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Posto as palavras do JP:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Já há alguns anos que eu andava à procura de uma casa no som que fosse mais parecida com o que eu gostava e que me permitisse juntar as minhas histórias meio letárgicas, meio amnésicas a um balanço mais vital que sinto mais como o meu pulsar do que a forma portuguesa de fazer canções. Também tem a ver com anos e anos a ouvir Chico Buarque de uma maneira talvez exagerada. Pensei: já que vou fazer um disco sozinho, vou fazer um disco simples, uma coisa que ando há muito tempo para fazer, um luso-samba. Onde está o meu futuro? Em 1970. Foi o que me ocorreu. Este disco é uma coisa muito artesanal, sem máquinas, com coros naturalistas como nos anos 70, com construções muito Chico Buarque, Tom Jobim... aquilo foi pensado como qualquer coisa de ficção científica, como se, no ano em que nasci, tivesse a idade que tenho... a imaginar que o nosso desenvolvimento cultural era diferente, que éramos pessoas que absorvíamos e transformávamos... com aqueles dois lados: o que sorve tudo, se mimetiza em tudo e ama as coisas novas quase com desespero, com uma alegria violenta, e o contraponto disso que é manter tradições mortas, direitinhas, como uma espécie de vínculo à terra. Eu tentei depurar esses elementos todos, há uma série de pormenores nos arranjos que particularizam aquilo, que põem uma sombra no morro. Esta foi uma primeira experiência. Eu ainda quero ir para algum lado a partir daqui onde encontrasse a minha toada. Tentar recomeçar a partir do sítio onde, há trinta e tal anos, deixámos as coisas mais ou menos auspiciosas e que, depois, esquecemos um bocado. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-8735260441514937369?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/8735260441514937369/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=8735260441514937369' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8735260441514937369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8735260441514937369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/03/blog-post.html' title='JP SIMÕES - 1970'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Reh-6QmYJnI/AAAAAAAAAJc/hEkqchWI6iw/s72-c/index_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-8033191018737645937</id><published>2007-03-02T00:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-02T19:56:06.715Z</updated><title type='text'>Tangos e Tragédias</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Red1lFz7I4I/AAAAAAAAAIw/JPaktAo1ipg/s1600-h/tt_divulg_small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037123988312761218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Red1lFz7I4I/AAAAAAAAAIw/JPaktAo1ipg/s200/tt_divulg_small.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Red1fFz7I3I/AAAAAAAAAIo/vg35X7Dk-KE/s1600-h/portugal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037123885233546098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="214" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Red1fFz7I3I/AAAAAAAAAIo/vg35X7Dk-KE/s200/portugal.jpg" width="138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Adorei o espectáculo, a sala vibrou com a acção e a originalidade deste tipo de teatro. Eu ri até às lágrimas. Que delícia esquecer as vicisitudes duma quinta-feira banal que se tornou única no universo dos meus afectos.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Tangos e Tragédias é um espectáculo, é humor, é teatro e muita interaccão com o público. Os recursos cénicos centram-se na ficcão construída ao redor de duas personagens: o Maestro Pletskaya (Nico Nicolaiewsky) e oViolinista Kraunus Sang (Hique Gomez).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Artistas oriundos dum país imaginário chamado Sbornia, executam, durante cerca de hora e meia de espectáculo, música do folclore sborniano, canções brasileiras e êxitos do pop internacional. Tudo passado pelo filtro da comicidade e da teatralidade. O dúo mostra grande talento musical, mas a força do espectáculo não se centra apenas nesse talento. As canções estão entrelaçadas com textos de grande inspiração e desenvoltura cénica. As duas personagens provocam a plateia arrancando gargalhadas e pedidos de bis, que se prolongam fora da sala de espectáculo.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Vale a pena ir ver e perceber o motivo pelo qual está em cena há 23 anos no Brasil.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-8033191018737645937?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/8033191018737645937/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=8033191018737645937' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8033191018737645937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8033191018737645937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/03/tangos-e-tragdias.html' title='Tangos e Tragédias'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Red1lFz7I4I/AAAAAAAAAIw/JPaktAo1ipg/s72-c/tt_divulg_small.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3992717306756401390</id><published>2007-02-27T19:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-27T19:52:58.590Z</updated><title type='text'>Campanha de Solidariedade do 7ºC</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReSKswSO7vI/AAAAAAAAAIc/_vmFGne6xzE/s1600-h/P1010003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036302784787312370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReSKswSO7vI/AAAAAAAAAIc/_vmFGne6xzE/s200/P1010003.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O 7º C, da Escola de Santiago Maior, num gesto de carinho para com a A.C.A.B., Associação do Cantinho dos Animais de Beja, consegui angariar fundos para comprar ração para ajudar os animais, esquecidos de alguns, mas não desta turma , que levou a cabo esta tarefa na disciplina de Área de Projecto. A felicidade é visível.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No total compraram e angariararam:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;- &lt;strong&gt;11 sacas de 20 kg&lt;/strong&gt; de ração para cães, entregue pela Zocar, na sede do Cantinho no dia 27 de Fevevereiro!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Entregues ao Zig, enquanto representante da Associação do Cantinho, entre esta terça-feira e a anterior:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-8 sacas de 10 Kg de ração para cães;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- 3 sacas de 4 Kg de ração para cães;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;- 3 latas de 1, 250 g de comida para cão;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- 6 latas de comida para gato;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- 3 sacas de ração para gatos;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Um osso  "para lavar os dentes" de cão;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Uma escova para cães;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Um comedouro....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- espero que não me tenha esquecido de nada, ops...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Parabéns: &lt;div&gt;7º C, estou muito orgulhosa de vocês.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036298468345179874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReSGxgSO7uI/AAAAAAAAAH8/dprt85B5tyU/s200/P1010006.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036298098977992402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReSGcASO7tI/AAAAAAAAAH0/z_jDCdpdRks/s200/P1010005.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036297278639238818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReSFsQSO7qI/AAAAAAAAAHc/_yljhQfXjxY/s200/P1010002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReSFdQSO7pI/AAAAAAAAAHU/1qeVwgPFAL8/s1600-h/P1010001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036297020941201042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReSFdQSO7pI/AAAAAAAAAHU/1qeVwgPFAL8/s200/P1010001.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/30117683-3992717306756401390?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://cantinhoanimaisbeja.blogspot.com/' title='Campanha de Solidariedade do 7ºC'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3992717306756401390/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3992717306756401390' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3992717306756401390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3992717306756401390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/02/campanha-de-solidariedade-do-7c.html' title='Campanha de Solidariedade do 7ºC'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReSKswSO7vI/AAAAAAAAAIc/_vmFGne6xzE/s72-c/P1010003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6445159355008795035</id><published>2007-02-27T10:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-27T10:55:14.625Z</updated><title type='text'>Obrigada 7º C</title><content type='html'>Os meus alunos são uns doces, estão sempre a fazer-me surpresas deliciosas. Obrigada&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReQNNQSO7oI/AAAAAAAAAHI/mlnFs9oSitA/s1600-h/Prof.+karla.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036164804667960962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReQNNQSO7oI/AAAAAAAAAHI/mlnFs9oSitA/s200/Prof.+karla.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&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/30117683-6445159355008795035?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6445159355008795035/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6445159355008795035' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6445159355008795035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6445159355008795035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/02/obrigada-7-c.html' title='Obrigada 7º C'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/ReQNNQSO7oI/AAAAAAAAAHI/mlnFs9oSitA/s72-c/Prof.+karla.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6470614851565650573</id><published>2007-02-24T20:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-24T20:49:24.394Z</updated><title type='text'>É Dificil</title><content type='html'>Hoje acordei e senti-me sozinho&lt;br /&gt;Um barco sem vela&lt;br /&gt;Um corpo sem linho.&lt;br /&gt;Amanheci e vesti-me de preto,&lt;br /&gt;Um gesto cansado&lt;br /&gt;O olhar do deserto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando todos vão dormir&lt;br /&gt;é mais fácil desistir,&lt;br /&gt;Quando a noite está a chegar&lt;br /&gt;É difícil não chorar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu não quero ser&lt;br /&gt;a luz que já não sou,&lt;br /&gt;Não quero ser o primeiro&lt;br /&gt;Sou o tempo que acabou.&lt;br /&gt;Eu não quero ser&lt;br /&gt;As lágrimas que vês,&lt;br /&gt;Não quero ser primeiro&lt;br /&gt;Sou um barco nas marés.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pedro Abrunhosa&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6470614851565650573?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6470614851565650573/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6470614851565650573' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6470614851565650573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6470614851565650573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/02/dificil.html' title='É Dificil'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5092197449886771812</id><published>2007-02-23T18:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-24T01:13:58.297Z</updated><title type='text'>Por nove anos...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Deixas Em Mim Tanto De Ti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A noite não tem braços&lt;br /&gt;Que te impeçam de partir,&lt;br /&gt;Nas sombras do meu quarto&lt;br /&gt;Há mil sonhos por cumprir.&lt;br /&gt;Não sei quanto tempo fomos,&lt;br /&gt;Nem sei se te trago em mim,&lt;br /&gt;Sei do vento onde te invento, assim.&lt;br /&gt;Não sei se é luz da manhã,&lt;br /&gt;Nem sei o que resta em nós,&lt;br /&gt;Sei das ruas que corremos sós,&lt;br /&gt;Porque tu,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deixas em mim&lt;br /&gt;Tanto de ti,&lt;br /&gt;Matam-me os dias,&lt;br /&gt;As mãos vazias de ti.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A estrada ainda é longa,&lt;br /&gt;Cem quilómetros de chão,&lt;br /&gt;Quando a espera não tem fim,&lt;br /&gt;Há distâncias sem perdão.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não sei quanto tempo fomos,&lt;br /&gt;Nem sei se te trago em mim,&lt;br /&gt;Sei do vento onde te invento, assim.&lt;br /&gt;Não sei se é luz da manhã,&lt;br /&gt;Nem sei o que resta em nós,&lt;br /&gt;Sei das ruas que corremos sós,&lt;br /&gt;Porque tu,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deixas em mim&lt;br /&gt;Tanto de ti,&lt;br /&gt;Matam-me os dias,&lt;br /&gt;As mãos vazias de ti.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Navegas escondida,&lt;br /&gt;Perdes nas mãos o meu corpo,&lt;br /&gt;Beijas-me um sopro de vida,&lt;br /&gt;Como um barco abraça o porto.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Porque tu,&lt;br /&gt;Deixas em mim&lt;br /&gt;Tanto de ti,&lt;br /&gt;Matam-me os dias,&lt;br /&gt;As mãos vazias de ti.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by Pedro Abrunhosa&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-5092197449886771812?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5092197449886771812/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5092197449886771812' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5092197449886771812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5092197449886771812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/02/por-nove-anos.html' title='Por nove anos...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1137047132165796641</id><published>2007-02-20T09:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-20T09:58:07.995Z</updated><title type='text'>Dia 14 de Fevereiro</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sei que o dia já passou, mas como há imenso tempo que não tinha força, nem coragem para abrir o meu blog, deixei passar em branco o agradecimento a quem me fez feliz neste dia, que à partida julgava vir a ser um dia "não".&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Logo pela manhã fui agraciada, com um dos serviços de despertar doces que já são uma tradição. (Obrigada Paulo)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Seguidamente, aulas e....surpresa total. Entrei e pediram-me para esperar na sala um bocadinho. Fiquei curiosa, mas sentei-me à espera.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dali a pouco, bateram à porta e entraram: as raparigas fizeram um túnel com as mãos, os rapazes passavam por baixo do túnel, ajoelhavam-se aos meus pés e ofereciam-me uma rosa amarela matizada, até todos os rapazes entrarem e eu chorar de alegria, abraçada a eles. Foi dos momentos mais lindos que já vivi (muito obrigada 7º C). &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ainda não me tinha refeito da emoção e já me batiam à porta para me oferecer o mais lindo ramo de tulipas e rosas que já vi na vida. (Muito obrigada António e Costa).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Depois disto resolvi partilhar a minha felicidade e mimei todos os meus amigos com uma msg , pois os amigos são seres que amamos.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;À noite tive uma surpresa inesquecível de alguém que tinha estado "ausente" há algum tempo da minha vida e que quis tornar esse dia ainda mais fantástico.(Obrigada Tomás)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;E foi assim que vivi um dos dias mais bonitos da minha vida, sem contar com nada. As surpresas fazem-nos felizes, ainda mais as inesperadas.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Só tenho pena de não ter tirado fotos...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1137047132165796641?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1137047132165796641/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1137047132165796641' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1137047132165796641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1137047132165796641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/02/dia-14-de-fevereiro.html' title='Dia 14 de Fevereiro'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6442580317473861124</id><published>2007-02-20T09:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-20T09:33:10.602Z</updated><title type='text'>Abraços são bons para o coração</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Retirei este artigo que achei interessantíssimo&lt;/strong&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Melhores para as mulheres&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Abraços são bons para o coração&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os abraços têm efeitos benéficos na saúde cardiovascular tanto dos homens como das mulheres, mas são elas quem mais tem a ganhar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="javascript:ChangeNewsTab(1)"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os abraços aumentam os níveis de ocitocina, conhecida como a hormona do amor, e diminuem a pressão arterial, com quebras mais acentuadas nas mulheres, de acordo com um estudo da Universidade da Carolina do Norte, em que participaram 38 casais.&lt;br /&gt;Os casais abraçavam-se sendo os níveis de pressão arterial, de ocitocina e de cortisol, uma hormona do stresse, medidos em quartos separados. Em seguida os casais juntavam-se e recordavam momentos felizes.&lt;br /&gt;De regresso ao presente, os casais viam um filme romântico com a duração de 5 minutos, conversavam durante outros 10 para no final voltarem a abraçar-se por 20 segundos.&lt;br /&gt;Após este abraço os níveis de ocitocina subiam, provando que os níveis desta hormona nos casais são superiores aos verificados nos solteiros. No caso das mulheres o cortisol também diminuiu e verificou-se uma descida na pressão arterial.&lt;br /&gt;Segundo a líder da investigação, Karen Grewen, os potenciais efeitos cardioprotectores da ocitocina, libertada durante o parto e a amamentação, poderão ser maiores para as mulheres do que para os homens.&lt;br /&gt;As emoções positivas, como a felicidade, estão relacionadas com baixos níveis de cortisol. O apoio social é importante para toda a gente, com ou sem uma relação, afirma uma porta-voz do Instituto Britânico do Coração.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:marta.p.miguel@sol.pt"&gt;&lt;em&gt;marta.p.miguel@sol.pt&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6442580317473861124?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://sol.sapo.pt/PaginaInicial/Sociedade/Interior.aspx?content_id=23149' title='Abraços são bons para o coração'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6442580317473861124/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6442580317473861124' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6442580317473861124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6442580317473861124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/02/abraos-so-bons-para-o-corao.html' title='Abraços são bons para o coração'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-7136470008154878280</id><published>2007-01-25T09:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-03T21:11:24.405Z</updated><title type='text'>Sonho sermos só um....</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Rbh_nvNkEwI/AAAAAAAAAG8/lzoCErJgJaU/s1600-h/P1010016.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023905704996770562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Rbh_nvNkEwI/AAAAAAAAAG8/lzoCErJgJaU/s200/P1010016.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quando te avisto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;o meu coração sorri&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A alma surpreende-me com novas cores&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O espírito imbui-se do cheiro da maresia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O sal cobre-me a pele&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O seu cheiro impregna-se no meu corpo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O brilho do mar espelha-se no meu olhar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sonho sermos só um...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Uma comunhão de corpo e água&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Liquefazer-me nas vagas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fundir-me na maré&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Soltar este pesado corpo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e mergulhar na leveza do nada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Esquecer quem sou&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Voltar a nascer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ser quem não sou, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Recordar quem fui&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sonho sermos só um....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/30117683-7136470008154878280?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/7136470008154878280/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=7136470008154878280' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7136470008154878280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/7136470008154878280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/sonho-sermos-s-um.html' title='Sonho sermos só um....'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Rbh_nvNkEwI/AAAAAAAAAG8/lzoCErJgJaU/s72-c/P1010016.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-788188537000296122</id><published>2007-01-24T11:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-24T11:31:57.533Z</updated><title type='text'>Escrever é um acto de solidão...</title><content type='html'>É interessante sentir&lt;br /&gt;Que escrever é um acto de solidão,&lt;br /&gt;Um acto terapêutico&lt;br /&gt;Em que a alma se desnuda&lt;br /&gt;e o corpo verte a dor interior.&lt;br /&gt;É mais fácil escrever a Dor&lt;br /&gt;Do que admitir senti-la.&lt;br /&gt;É mais simples escrevê-la&lt;br /&gt;Do que partilhá-la.&lt;br /&gt;A Dor que sentimos&lt;br /&gt;Não é a que escrevemos.&lt;br /&gt;A Dor que escrevemos&lt;br /&gt;É de longe mais requintadamente escondida,&lt;br /&gt;Do que aquela que nos faz rasgar a pele,&lt;br /&gt;Gritar sem palavras,&lt;br /&gt;Chorar por dentro,&lt;br /&gt;Procurar a solidão sem fim.&lt;br /&gt;Fundir a dor com a escrita&lt;br /&gt;É um exercício assaz acre.&lt;br /&gt;É um acto de parir&lt;br /&gt;Sem dar à luz&lt;br /&gt;Acto solitário, sem nada de fecundo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-788188537000296122?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/788188537000296122/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=788188537000296122' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/788188537000296122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/788188537000296122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/escrever-um-acto-de-solido.html' title='Escrever é um acto de solidão...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1002453356376353755</id><published>2007-01-23T10:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-23T10:55:32.354Z</updated><title type='text'>Chove dentro de mim</title><content type='html'>Cai a chuva,&lt;br /&gt;Escorrendo pelo vidro da janela...&lt;br /&gt;Os meus pensamentos voam,&lt;br /&gt;A tristeza retorna,&lt;br /&gt;Dores antigas eclodem,&lt;br /&gt;Obscurendo o meu olhar.&lt;br /&gt;Chove dentro de mim...&lt;br /&gt;E não há nada que eu possa fazer!&lt;br /&gt;Maldito sofrimento,&lt;br /&gt;Que irrompe por mim,&lt;br /&gt;Alheio à minha vontade.&lt;br /&gt;Chove dentro de mim&lt;br /&gt;E eu, imersa na minha dor,&lt;br /&gt;Olho pela janela&lt;br /&gt;Sentindo no meu íntimo as gotas&lt;br /&gt;que caem lá fora.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1002453356376353755?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1002453356376353755/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1002453356376353755' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1002453356376353755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1002453356376353755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/chove-dentro-de-mim.html' title='Chove dentro de mim'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-899815133508864686</id><published>2007-01-21T16:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-21T16:03:17.984Z</updated><title type='text'>Juanes - Destino</title><content type='html'>Juanes -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Destino&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estoy buscando una forma de ver&lt;br /&gt;Detrás de los espejos del alma&lt;br /&gt;Más adentro donde está la luz&lt;br /&gt;Que quema, pero que no mata&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estoy buscando una forma de amor&lt;br /&gt;Que pueda sacar los demonios del odio&lt;br /&gt;Y hallar la estela de la dimensión&lt;br /&gt;En donde no se mueren los cuerpos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todo el mundo tiene una estrella&lt;br /&gt;Que muestra el camino pero no los peligros&lt;br /&gt;Todo el mundo va con ojos ciegos&lt;br /&gt;Dejando la vida pasar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estoy buscando una forma de paz&lt;br /&gt;Que me haga salir de ésta guerra de tigres&lt;br /&gt;Si vuelvo al pueblo, me quedaré&lt;br /&gt;Y moriré envuelto en mi escencia. . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todo el mundo tiene una estrella&lt;br /&gt;Que muestra el camino pero no los peligros&lt;br /&gt;Todo el mundo va con ojos ciegos&lt;br /&gt;Dejando la vida pasar&lt;br /&gt;Y todo el mundo tiene un destino&lt;br /&gt;Que aunque no creamos de seguro cumplimos&lt;br /&gt;Y todo el mundo va con ojos ciegos&lt;br /&gt;Dejando la vida pasar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-899815133508864686?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/899815133508864686/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=899815133508864686' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/899815133508864686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/899815133508864686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/juanes-destino.html' title='Juanes - Destino'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5699736578219273844</id><published>2007-01-19T13:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-19T14:20:54.458Z</updated><title type='text'>"O que há em mim é sobretudo cansaço", Álvaro de Campos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbDDGNALiGI/AAAAAAAAAE4/e3jnFLHv1A4/s1600-h/P1010009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021728095855151202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbDDGNALiGI/AAAAAAAAAE4/e3jnFLHv1A4/s200/P1010009.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;O que há em mim é sobretudo cansaço&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;O que há em mim é sobretudo cansaço&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não disto nem daquilo,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nem sequer de tudo ou de nada:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cansaço assim mesmo, ele mesmo,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cansaço.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A subtileza das sensações inúteis,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As paixões violentas por coisa nenhuma,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os amores intensos por o suposto alguém.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Essas coisas todas -&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Essas e o que faz falta nelas eternamente -;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tudo isso faz um cansaço,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Este cansaço,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cansaço.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Há sem dúvida quem ame o infinito,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Há sem dúvida quem deseje o impossível,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Há sem dúvida quem não queira nada -&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Três tipos de idealistas, e eu nenhum deles:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Porque eu amo infinitamente o finito,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Porque eu desejo impossivelmente o possível,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Porque eu quero tudo, ou um pouco mais, se puder ser,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ou até se não puder ser...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E o resultado?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para eles a vida vivida ou sonhada,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para eles o sonho sonhado ou vivido,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para eles a média entre tudo e nada, isto é, isto...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para mim só um grande, um profundo,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E, ah com que felicidade infecundo, cansaço,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um supremíssimo cansaço.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Íssimo, íssimo. íssimo,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cansaço... &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;in&lt;/em&gt; Álvaro de Campos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-5699736578219273844?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5699736578219273844/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5699736578219273844' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5699736578219273844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5699736578219273844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/o-que-h-em-mim-sobretudo-cansao-lvaro.html' title='&quot;O que há em mim é sobretudo cansaço&quot;, Álvaro de Campos'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbDDGNALiGI/AAAAAAAAAE4/e3jnFLHv1A4/s72-c/P1010009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1791426586785284174</id><published>2007-01-19T12:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-19T12:22:56.498Z</updated><title type='text'>Quando acreditamos tudo é possível!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbC3ZdALiFI/AAAAAAAAAEs/7eyaqx0kwbs/s1600-h/P1010062.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021715232428099666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbC3ZdALiFI/AAAAAAAAAEs/7eyaqx0kwbs/s200/P1010062.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Já vejo flores nos caminhos que percorro&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não que tenha esquecido a dor que tomou conta de mim&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O que se passa é que comecei novamente a acreditar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E quando acreditamos tudo é possível!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1791426586785284174?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1791426586785284174/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1791426586785284174' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1791426586785284174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1791426586785284174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/quando-acreditamos-tudo-possvel.html' title='Quando acreditamos tudo é possível!'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbC3ZdALiFI/AAAAAAAAAEs/7eyaqx0kwbs/s72-c/P1010062.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3539995976835582554</id><published>2007-01-19T11:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-19T11:18:20.357Z</updated><title type='text'>La Camisa Negra</title><content type='html'>La Camisa Negra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tengo la camisa negra&lt;br /&gt;hoy mi amor esta de luto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoy tengo en el alma una pena&lt;br /&gt;y es por culpa de tu embrujo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mal parece que solo me quedé&lt;br /&gt;y fue pura todita tu mentira&lt;br /&gt;que maldita mala suerte la mía&lt;br /&gt;que aquel día te encontré&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por beber del veneno malevo de tu amor&lt;br /&gt;yo quedé moribundo y lleno de dolor&lt;br /&gt;respiré de ese humo amargo de tu adiós&lt;br /&gt;y desde que tú te fuiste yo solo tengo…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tengo la camisa negra&lt;br /&gt;porque negra tengo el alma&lt;br /&gt;yo por ti perdí la calma&lt;br /&gt;y casi pierdo hasta mi cama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cama cama cama baby&lt;br /&gt;te digo con disimulo&lt;br /&gt;Tengo la camisa negra&lt;br /&gt;y debajo tengo el difunto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tengo la camisa negra&lt;br /&gt;ya tu amor no me interesa&lt;br /&gt;lo que ayer me supo a gloria&lt;br /&gt;hoy me sabe a pura&lt;br /&gt;miércoles por la tarde y t ú que no llegas&lt;br /&gt;ni siquiera muestras señas&lt;br /&gt;y yo con la camisa negra&lt;br /&gt;y tus maletas en la puerta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mal parece que solo me quedé&lt;br /&gt;y fue pura todita tu mentira&lt;br /&gt;que maldita mala suerte la mía&lt;br /&gt;que aquel día te encontré&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por beber del veneno malevo de tu amor&lt;br /&gt;yo quedé moribundo y lleno de dolor&lt;br /&gt;respiré de ese humo amargo de tu adiós&lt;br /&gt;y desde que tú te fuiste yo solo tengo…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Juanes - Camisa Negra&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-3539995976835582554?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3539995976835582554/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3539995976835582554' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3539995976835582554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3539995976835582554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/la-camisa-negra.html' title='La Camisa Negra'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3296458421345552616</id><published>2007-01-18T16:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-19T12:13:22.288Z</updated><title type='text'>Como odeio as quintas-feiras!</title><content type='html'>Como odeio as quintas-feiras!&lt;br /&gt;É um ódio visceral,&lt;br /&gt;íntimo e profundo.&lt;br /&gt;Se pudesse os dias passavam de quarta para sexta directamente&lt;br /&gt;Para mim, as quintas são dias aziagos&lt;br /&gt;longos, monótonos, sem fim.&lt;br /&gt;Queria adormecer e nem sentir a passagem do dia...&lt;br /&gt;Acordar, e sentir que se tinha eclipsado&lt;br /&gt;como um pesadelo tenebroso,&lt;br /&gt;que ao acordar é varrido da nossa memória...&lt;br /&gt;Como odeio as quintas intermináveis&lt;br /&gt;De trabalho contínuo e desgastante...&lt;br /&gt;Morram as quintas, matem-nas&lt;br /&gt;Não aguento mais&lt;br /&gt;Viver uma quinta tira-me a alegria de viver&lt;br /&gt;a vontade de trabalhar&lt;br /&gt;a calma, deixando-me um amargo na boca&lt;br /&gt;que se recusa a abandonar-me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-3296458421345552616?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3296458421345552616/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3296458421345552616' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3296458421345552616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3296458421345552616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/como-odeio-as-quintas-feiras.html' title='Como odeio as quintas-feiras!'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3439759005547076284</id><published>2007-01-18T10:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-18T10:30:13.095Z</updated><title type='text'>Estou Cansado, de Álvaro de Campos</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Estou Cansado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou cansado, é claro,     &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Porque, a certa altura, a gente tem que estar cansado.     &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;De que estou cansado, não sei:    &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; De nada me serviria sabê-lo,     &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pois o cansaço fica na mesma.     &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A ferida dói como dói    &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; E não em função da causa que a produziu.    &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; Sim, estou cansado,    &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; E um pouco sorridente    &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; De o cansaço ser só isto —     &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Uma vontade de sono no corpo,     &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um desejo de não pensar na alma,    &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; E por cima de tudo uma transparência lúcida     &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do entendimento retrospectivo...     &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E a luxúria única de não ter já esperanças?    &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sou inteligente; eis tudo.     &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tenho visto muito e entendido muito o que tenho visto,    &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E há um certo prazer até no cansaço que isto nos dá,     &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que afinal a cabeça sempre serve para qualquer coisa.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in Álvaro de Campos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-3439759005547076284?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3439759005547076284/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3439759005547076284' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3439759005547076284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3439759005547076284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/estou-cansado-de-lvaro-de-campos.html' title='Estou Cansado, de Álvaro de Campos'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5116862578842682499</id><published>2007-01-17T11:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-17T11:15:27.194Z</updated><title type='text'>"Fácil de entender"</title><content type='html'>The Gift - Fácil De Entender&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talvez por não saber falar de cor, Imaginei&lt;br /&gt;Talvez por saber o que não será melhor, Aproximei&lt;br /&gt;Meu corpo é o teu corpo o desejo entregue a nós&lt;br /&gt;Sei lá eu o que queres dizer, Despedir-me de ti&lt;br /&gt;Adeus um dia voltarei a ser feliz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu já não sei se sei o que é sentir o teu amor,&lt;br /&gt;não sei, o que é sentir, se por falar falei&lt;br /&gt;Pensei que se falasse era fácil de entender&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talvez por não saber falar de cor, Imaginei&lt;br /&gt;Triste é o virar de costas, o último adeus&lt;br /&gt;Sabe Deus o que quero dizer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obrigado por saberes cuidar de mim,&lt;br /&gt;Tratar de mim, olhar para mim, escutar quem sou,&lt;br /&gt;e se ao menos tudo fosse igual a ti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu já não sei se sei o que é sentir o teu amor,&lt;br /&gt;não sei o que é sentir, se por falar falei&lt;br /&gt;Pensei que se falasse era fácil de entender&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É o amor, que chega ao fim, um final assim,&lt;br /&gt;assim é mais fácil de entender&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu já não sei se sei o que é sentir o teu amor,&lt;br /&gt;não sei o que é sentir, se por falar falei&lt;br /&gt;Pensei que se falasse era fácil de entender&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-5116862578842682499?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5116862578842682499/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5116862578842682499' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5116862578842682499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5116862578842682499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/fcil-de-entender.html' title='&quot;Fácil de entender&quot;'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6313615362240948272</id><published>2007-01-17T11:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-17T11:06:15.097Z</updated><title type='text'>UM AMIGO, UM LAMENTO</title><content type='html'>UM AMIGO, UM LAMENTO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depois de hesitar&lt;br /&gt;Peguei no telefone e liguei&lt;br /&gt;Para conversar&lt;br /&gt;Estou?!&lt;br /&gt;Está?!&lt;br /&gt;Tu não estás bem, não enganas ninguém&lt;br /&gt;Conta lá o que é que a vida te fez agora&lt;br /&gt;Aparece por cá, bebemos um chá&lt;br /&gt;E o frio fica lá fora...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, tu tens sempre uma cura&lt;br /&gt;Ah, nenhum mal perdura&lt;br /&gt;Para lá do tempo, tudo leva o vento&lt;br /&gt;Só fica um amigo, um sexto sentido&lt;br /&gt;E um lamento...&lt;br /&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lamento dizer&lt;br /&gt;Que tu vais sofrer para te encontrares&lt;br /&gt;Lamento saber que vais perceber&lt;br /&gt;Que na vida também há azares&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By André Sardet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6313615362240948272?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6313615362240948272/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6313615362240948272' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6313615362240948272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6313615362240948272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/um-amigo-um-lamento.html' title='UM AMIGO, UM LAMENTO'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-3785763120650184290</id><published>2007-01-17T10:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-17T10:51:23.879Z</updated><title type='text'>"A importância do amor"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;A importância do amor&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;(...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Primeiro&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;-&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;deixe-me que desabafe - arrepia-me que "ande no ar" um pudor desconcertante que faz com que, sempre que se trata de falarmos do amor, o melhor que nos permitimos é balbuciá-lo como se fosse ...afecto.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Segundo - &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;sim, os afectos são importantes. Todos os afectos. Aqueles que parecem bons, e a raiva (sem a qual não há paixão), a inveja (que nos abre para a ambição) e até o ódio (que nos ajuda a clarificar o amor).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Terceiro - &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;o amor não é um afecto, mas o produto de todos os afectos que se dividem com alguém. Os afectos todos são o sal da vida. Sem eles, as pessoas não se tornam "doces"; ficam insossas.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quarto - &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;os afectos - todos os afectos - não são importantes para a sexualidade. São essenciais para que apanhemos sol por dentro. Os afectos - todos os afectos - são o combustível do pensamento e a luz da alma.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quinto - &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;importantes não são os afectos, mas que deixemos de os reprimir. Para que desperte a sensibilidade, mais ou menos adormecida, que há em nós, e se vá a tempo de namorar com a vida.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;in Tudo o que o Amor não é , &lt;/strong&gt;de &lt;/em&gt;Eduardo Sá&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-3785763120650184290?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/3785763120650184290/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=3785763120650184290' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3785763120650184290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/3785763120650184290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/tudo-o-que-o-amor-no-eduardo-s_9546.html' title='&quot;A importância do amor&quot;'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-689900365496779394</id><published>2007-01-17T09:34:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-17T10:52:19.248Z</updated><title type='text'>"Depois do adeus"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Depois do adeus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Todas as relações se alimentam de cumplicidades e de conflitos, de tranquilidade como de desassossegos, de paixão e de ternura. Nos movimentos de uma relação convivem pessoas com expectativas e com ritmos que, por vezes, se desencontram, e que nunca lucram da mesma forma com a vida com que ela os renova. Por isso, cada relação - por má que pareça a comparação - tem um "&lt;strong&gt;deve" e um "haver&lt;/strong&gt;" e, "feitas as contas", &lt;strong&gt;para que viva e para que cresça, está subentendido que os ganhos que traz superem as perdas com que nos surpreende&lt;/strong&gt;. sendo assim, não é verdade que todas as relações sejam para sempre. E compreende-se porquê.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Algumas pessoas tiram-nos muito mais do que nos dão&lt;/strong&gt;. Porque a generosidade de quem está connosco choca com as suas dificuldades de nos conhecer, ou porque a relação se foi fraternizando a ponto de se tornar sonolenta e triste. &lt;strong&gt;A verdade é que há relações que vão morrendo devagar, e mais ou menos em silêncio&lt;/strong&gt;. Até que algum acontecimento, de súbito, precipite uma "morte" que, desde há muito, se vinha pressentindo (por entre a perplexidade, mais ou menos embaraçada, de dois espectadores comprometidos).(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Como vê, nunca se passa - depois de um adeus- de um vínculo amoroso (magoado) a uma relação de amizade. (...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não espere, por isso, que das ruínas de uma relação se levante um oásis. Muito menos, que uma sucessão de desilusões se transfigure num sonho lindo. Dê tempo aos sentimentos para que se sedimentem. Não tanto para que perdoe a quem o magoou. Mas - mais dificil, certamente - &lt;strong&gt;para se perdoar a si próprio por não ter "dado ouvidos" aos avisos do seu "coração".&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;(...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Antes de um divórcio duas pessoas estão divorciadas, sem darem por isso&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(...) Antes de um divórcio, duas pessoas já se terão divorciado, sem darem por isso. Divorciaram-se de namorar com a vida e de dar, no seu dia-a-dia, a uma relação amorosa o protagonismo que ela deveria ter tido. embora o sintam assim, há quem só se divorcie por fora (nunca se separando por dentro), e quem se divorcie por dentro (sem que, jamais, se separe por fora). E há também, quem tente divorciar-se por fora e por dentro, embora um e outro movimento se não dêem ao mesmo tempo e ninguém se divorcie de uma vez.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vistos assim, todos os divórcios serão, mais ou menos, litígios por mútuo consentimento.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(...) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas o casamento, num plano jurídico, é um contrato em que, ao contrário de muitos outros, só se descobrem as "letras pequeninas", das cláusulas de excepção, à medida que elas se vivem. Daí que um casamento nem sempre expanda as pessoas ao encontro do melhor de si próprias, e algumas das "letras pequenas" que, supostamente, devíamos saber, apareçam aos poucos, para nossa surpresa, tantas vezes, na clandestinidade dos nossos pensamentos.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(...) Ninguém aceita divorciar-se sem que, antes, se tenha vindo a divorciar, por dentro, devagarinho.(...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Prescindir de uma relação pode ser, também, uma determinação de alívio e, sobretudo, uma aposta de esperança. E podendo ser um litígio de comum acordo, traz consigo ressentimentos sinceros e outros que, talvez, escondam a revolta pela condescendência com que se guarda a mágoa pelo casamento ter deitado anos e sonhos a perder.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;in&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tudo o que o Amor não é&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; , de Eduardo Sá&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-689900365496779394?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/689900365496779394/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=689900365496779394' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/689900365496779394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/689900365496779394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/tudo-o-que-o-amor-no-eduardo-s_17.html' title='&quot;Depois do adeus&quot;'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5207289392797985058</id><published>2007-01-17T09:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-17T11:00:15.696Z</updated><title type='text'>"Fazer por confiar" e "Os laços morrem a dormir"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fazer por confiar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Abrir os olhos" é, para muitos, um sinónimo de maturidade, ao qual se opõe um "confiar de olhos fechados", tomado como um gesto de generosidade, mas imprudente. Não acho que seja assim.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Na verdade, nunca confiamos em ninguém, mas nos sentimos que essa pessoa nos leva a sentir. Acontece que, de tanto fazermos por estar de olhos abertos, talvez os fechemos de menos para olharmos para os sentimentos com que cada pessoa nos premeia. E, se não o fizermos, não confiamos; fazemos por confiar que é, sem se dar conta, uma forma de aprendermos a desconfiar dos nossos sentimentos".&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os laços morrem a dormir&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"(...) os laços também morrem. Basta que adormeçamos para eles e que se iludam os cuidados que um grande amor precisa ter.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os laços alimentam-se com gestos atentos e claros, e com uma infindável esperança de sermos de alguém que não desiste de nos conhecer (mesmo para além do que presumimos saber de nós).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Qualquer "vai-se andando" mata os laços com o silêncio; e devagar. Como os mata imaginar que merecemos dos outros a falta de cuidados que eles nos merecem.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os laços também morrem. Basta que adormeçamos para eles e que se iludam os cuidados que um grande amor precisa ter."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;in &lt;strong&gt;Tudo o que o Amor não é&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; , de Eduardo Sá&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-5207289392797985058?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5207289392797985058/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5207289392797985058' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5207289392797985058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5207289392797985058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/tudo-o-que-o-amor-no-eduardo-s.html' title='&quot;Fazer por confiar&quot; e &quot;Os laços morrem a dormir&quot;'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5306704518998195186</id><published>2007-01-16T11:34:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-23T10:49:27.911Z</updated><title type='text'>Algumas fotos da festa que o 7º C me fez</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXn9_NkEvI/AAAAAAAAAGM/IJ4vPXEyHN0/s1600-h/100_3159.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023176011528016626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXn9_NkEvI/AAAAAAAAAGM/IJ4vPXEyHN0/s200/100_3159.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXnXvNkEuI/AAAAAAAAAGE/Zf_ON3_URVg/s1600-h/100_3160.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023175354398020322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXnXvNkEuI/AAAAAAAAAGE/Zf_ON3_URVg/s200/100_3160.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXm3PNkEsI/AAAAAAAAAF0/NfdlAuXYX1k/s1600-h/100_3158.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023174796052271810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXm3PNkEsI/AAAAAAAAAF0/NfdlAuXYX1k/s200/100_3158.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXmmPNkErI/AAAAAAAAAFs/3nCUGxZfatg/s1600-h/100_3157.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023174503994495666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXmmPNkErI/AAAAAAAAAFs/3nCUGxZfatg/s200/100_3157.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXmUPNkEqI/AAAAAAAAAFk/n2YY0qX6uew/s1600-h/100_3156.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023174194756850338" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXmUPNkEqI/AAAAAAAAAFk/n2YY0qX6uew/s200/100_3156.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXlyPNkEoI/AAAAAAAAAFU/n_5o2It3f78/s1600-h/100_3154.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023173610641298050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXlyPNkEoI/AAAAAAAAAFU/n_5o2It3f78/s200/100_3154.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXlefNkEnI/AAAAAAAAAFM/ctfF1MOwFcs/s1600-h/100_3151.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023173271338881650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXlefNkEnI/AAAAAAAAAFM/ctfF1MOwFcs/s200/100_3151.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXlL_NkEmI/AAAAAAAAAFE/NDpR7UKz2k4/s1600-h/100_3150.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023172953511301730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXlL_NkEmI/AAAAAAAAAFE/NDpR7UKz2k4/s200/100_3150.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/30117683-5306704518998195186?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5306704518998195186/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5306704518998195186' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5306704518998195186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5306704518998195186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/algumas-fotos-da-festa-que-o-7-c-me-fez.html' title='Algumas fotos da festa que o 7º C me fez'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbXn9_NkEvI/AAAAAAAAAGM/IJ4vPXEyHN0/s72-c/100_3159.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6336674509918458852</id><published>2007-01-16T11:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-16T11:27:44.292Z</updated><title type='text'>Ah! se eu pudesse....</title><content type='html'>Ah! Como eu queria&lt;br /&gt;Esquecer o passado,&lt;br /&gt;Viver o dia-a-dia&lt;br /&gt;Sem lembranças amargas.&lt;br /&gt;Abraçar a esperança adiada,&lt;br /&gt;Renovar os planos perdidos.&lt;br /&gt;Imbuir-me de novos sonhos&lt;br /&gt;deixar que a alegria &lt;br /&gt;Rompesse as tramas da amargura&lt;br /&gt;Que me escureceu a alma&lt;br /&gt;Sem deixar lugar &lt;br /&gt;A qualquer força&lt;br /&gt;Para lutar contra as contrariedades &lt;br /&gt;Que surgiam no meu horizonte...&lt;br /&gt;Queria ter ânimo para me perdoar&lt;br /&gt;Para esquecer que errei&lt;br /&gt;Que me deixei enganar&lt;br /&gt;Por palavras vãs e ocas&lt;br /&gt;sem discernir o carácter&lt;br /&gt;De quem tentou obliterar-me a vida&lt;br /&gt;Num bilhete sem saída.&lt;br /&gt;Mas, as energias têm regressado, &lt;br /&gt;Pouco a pouco&lt;br /&gt;Em passos de passarinho,&lt;br /&gt;Mas com a determinação &lt;br /&gt;De quem voltou a acreditar em si.&lt;br /&gt;A pensar no futuro&lt;br /&gt;A planear um amanhâ&lt;br /&gt;Que antes neguei.&lt;br /&gt;Ah! se eu pudesse, como num passe de mágica&lt;br /&gt;Riscar partes da minha vida! &lt;br /&gt;Recomeçar sem me lembrar&lt;br /&gt;Do poço onde fundo mergulhei...&lt;br /&gt;Ah! Se eu pudesse recuperar&lt;br /&gt;a antiga alegria...sem remoer, nem me culpar.&lt;br /&gt;Ah se eu pudesse pontapear o passado &lt;br /&gt;e partir do zero rumo à esperança...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6336674509918458852?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6336674509918458852/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6336674509918458852' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6336674509918458852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6336674509918458852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/ah-se-eu-pudesse.html' title='Ah! se eu pudesse....'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6548450382483996173</id><published>2007-01-14T09:40:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-14T10:23:26.250Z</updated><title type='text'>Reaprender</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Ran7I9ALh_I/AAAAAAAAADk/H5FICsj6saY/s1600-h/P1010040.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Ran7I9ALh_I/AAAAAAAAADk/H5FICsj6saY/s200/P1010040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5019819390913972210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há sete meses que me procurava&lt;br /&gt;Escondida entre as sombras dos meus pesadelos&lt;br /&gt;Fugia com medo do terror que vivia&lt;br /&gt;e sem esperança soluçava...&lt;br /&gt;Ignorava os apelos&lt;br /&gt;Dos que me procuravam e de quem me escondia,&lt;br /&gt;Com vergonha de ter errado,&lt;br /&gt;Sobrevivia isolada, aniquilada&lt;br /&gt;como um animal ferido no âmago, já não lutava.&lt;br /&gt;De repente vi-me amparada, exigiram a minha recuperação&lt;br /&gt;Por vocês, a quem tanto agradeço, comecei a sair da depressão.&lt;br /&gt;Lentamente, como se tivesse que voltar a aprender a andar&lt;br /&gt;a sorrir, a trabalhar, a viver e a lutar&lt;br /&gt;Vocês sabem a quem dedico estas palavras sinceras:&lt;br /&gt;Amigos, família, amigos, alunos, colegas&lt;br /&gt;Ensinaram-me a voltar a sorrir, a chorar de alegria&lt;br /&gt;A levantar-me das quedas&lt;br /&gt;E a encontrar novos motivos para aqui andar&lt;br /&gt;Num mundo onde todos erramos&lt;br /&gt;Mas nem sempre sobrevivemos.&lt;br /&gt;Eu, voltei a planear, a sonhar...&lt;br /&gt;A encontrar motivos para me erguer&lt;br /&gt;Do fundo do poço onde mergulhei&lt;br /&gt;Mais lentamente do que ansiava&lt;br /&gt;Fui subindo e espreitei&lt;br /&gt;Com novos olhos a beleza que recusava&lt;br /&gt;Reunindo em mim as forças que antes me faltavam.&lt;br /&gt;Tinha descido tão fundo, que nem sei por onde andei&lt;br /&gt;Recusei viver, mas sobrevi a este temporal&lt;br /&gt;As cores retornaram e o sal&lt;br /&gt;Das lágrimas secou, quando voltei&lt;br /&gt;A abrir o coração aos sons que me rodeavam,&lt;br /&gt;Ao calor que antes não sentia,&lt;br /&gt;Ao brilho do sol que só me cegava&lt;br /&gt;Inspirei em golfadas o carinho dos que me amavam.&lt;br /&gt;Gritei, chorei, sofri, senti todas as dores&lt;br /&gt;Que egoistamente julgava exclusivamente minhas.&lt;br /&gt;Sem parar para pensar que a vida &lt;br /&gt;Não é só um deserto sem fim&lt;br /&gt;Há flores que desabrocham quando passamos&lt;br /&gt;Basta lutar e reaprendermos&lt;br /&gt;a olhar com a inocência da criança &lt;br /&gt;E essa força sei que voltou a exister em mim...&lt;br /&gt;Afinal, "depois da tempestade vem a bonança".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6548450382483996173?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6548450382483996173/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6548450382483996173' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6548450382483996173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6548450382483996173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/reaprender.html' title='&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Reaprender&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Ran7I9ALh_I/AAAAAAAAADk/H5FICsj6saY/s72-c/P1010040.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-8777838349241772845</id><published>2007-01-13T20:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-13T20:42:52.104Z</updated><title type='text'>É tão bom voltar a sorrir...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Rak8CdALh-I/AAAAAAAAADM/tzlcVxqxgrI/s1600-h/P1010020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5019609272523917282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="141" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Rak8CdALh-I/AAAAAAAAADM/tzlcVxqxgrI/s200/P1010020.JPG" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Rak73tALh9I/AAAAAAAAADE/fx53iuaXPHQ/s1600-h/P1010017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5019609087840323538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 145px" height="167" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Rak73tALh9I/AAAAAAAAADE/fx53iuaXPHQ/s200/P1010017.JPG" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sábado foi um dia de alegria&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tive boas notícias a nível de saúde&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Viver volta a ser uma certeza.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É tão bom voltar a sorrir,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sentir a carícia do sol,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ouvir o som do mar,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Respirar o sal da maresia...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E sorrir, de braços abertos à vida!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Caminhar na areia, marcando o meu caminho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Inebriar-me do azul do céu&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enternecer-me com o cheiro do mar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sentir a areia ranger sobre o meu andar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seduzir-me pela paleta de cores do mar:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;azul, verde, branco e prata...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cambiantes de cor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que animam o cinzento de dias passados.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dores renitentes na partida,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas cientes que o fim de um negro ciclo &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aproxima-se, conivente com os raios de sol&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que expulsam velhas sombras&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e iluminam, pouco a pouco, o meu dia-a-dia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-8777838349241772845?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/8777838349241772845/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=8777838349241772845' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8777838349241772845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8777838349241772845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/to-bom-voltar-sorrir.html' title='&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;É tão bom voltar a sorrir...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/Rak8CdALh-I/AAAAAAAAADM/tzlcVxqxgrI/s72-c/P1010020.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5093843594437786889</id><published>2007-01-12T23:48:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-19T12:18:18.436Z</updated><title type='text'>André Sardet - concerto</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbC259ALiEI/AAAAAAAAAEg/QW2L4EOzvbM/s1600-h/P1010020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021714691262220354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbC259ALiEI/AAAAAAAAAEg/QW2L4EOzvbM/s200/P1010020.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RagkhNALh6I/AAAAAAAAACo/RdCvF_CuX3I/s1600-h/capa+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5019301937549117346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RagkhNALh6I/AAAAAAAAACo/RdCvF_CuX3I/s200/capa+2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RagfW9ALh2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/BU9GmOeV4J8/s1600-h/P1010007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5019296263897319266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RagfW9ALh2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/BU9GmOeV4J8/s200/P1010007.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RagfJ9ALh1I/AAAAAAAAABs/mpzyegFQmAw/s1600-h/P1010005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5019296040559019858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RagfJ9ALh1I/AAAAAAAAABs/mpzyegFQmAw/s200/P1010005.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;André Sardet - Acústico&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foi memorável o concerto do André Sardet, vê-lo ao vivo fez-me ouvi-lo com outra alma, a sua simpatia invejável (como compravam a autorização para tirar fotos durante o concerto e os autógrafos finais, com direito a beijo e foto).&lt;br /&gt;Agradeço à minha mãe o convite que me fez para me tirar da toca e sair para ir a este concerto...aqueceu-me a alma. Ressalvo a pureza das músicas: &lt;strong&gt;"Pássaro Azul", &lt;/strong&gt;que me fez raiar as lágrimas e "Quando te falei de amor", sem esquecer o poema da música "Feitiço", que fez toda a audiência cantar em coro este sucesso sempre novo. Mas, não resisto a deixar aqui um dos poemas mais tocantes que já li e escutei:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pássaro Azul&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;André Sardet&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A noite que passou trouxe-me um sonho&lt;br /&gt;Dormi mais para sonhar&lt;br /&gt;Sonhei que era um pesadelo&lt;br /&gt;De manhã ia acabar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conheci o teu sorriso&lt;br /&gt;Porque me está no coração&lt;br /&gt;Corri logo ao teu encontro&lt;br /&gt;E ao estender-te a minha mão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sete lágrimas correram&lt;br /&gt;Quando eu te abracei&lt;br /&gt;E ao tocar no teu cabelo&lt;br /&gt;Eu imaginei&lt;br /&gt;Que amanhã ao acordar&lt;br /&gt;Tu irás voltar&lt;br /&gt;Meu pássaro azul tu irás voltar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E corremos mundo fora&lt;br /&gt;Toda a noite a brincar&lt;br /&gt;Era eu quem se escondia&lt;br /&gt;E tu eras a encontrar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sete lágrimas correram&lt;br /&gt;Quando eu te abracei&lt;br /&gt;E ao tocar no teu cabelo&lt;br /&gt;Eu imaginei&lt;br /&gt;Que amanhã ao acordar&lt;br /&gt;Tu irás voltar&lt;br /&gt;Meu pássaro azul tu irás voltar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-5093843594437786889?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5093843594437786889/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5093843594437786889' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5093843594437786889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5093843594437786889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/andr-sardet-concerto.html' title='André Sardet - concerto'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RbC259ALiEI/AAAAAAAAAEg/QW2L4EOzvbM/s72-c/P1010020.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-9123284699630334222</id><published>2007-01-12T12:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-13T00:24:25.099Z</updated><title type='text'>Aos meus alunos, a quem tanto quero...</title><content type='html'>9º D - António Serraninho&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RaeImdALh0I/AAAAAAAAABY/V64rdb6hA2U/s1600-h/P1010022.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5019130503929497410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RaeImdALh0I/AAAAAAAAABY/V64rdb6hA2U/s200/P1010022.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; / Turma do 7º D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RaeINdALhzI/AAAAAAAAABQ/fj70FUMAeQ4/s1600-h/P1010019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5019130074432767794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RaeINdALhzI/AAAAAAAAABQ/fj70FUMAeQ4/s200/P1010019.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RaeG-9ALhyI/AAAAAAAAABI/aBBkjJDxq_Q/s1600-h/P1010005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5019128725813036834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" height="163" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RaeG-9ALhyI/AAAAAAAAABI/aBBkjJDxq_Q/s200/P1010005.JPG" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turma do 7º C&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MUITO OBRIGADA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aos meus alunos, a quem tanto quero...&lt;br /&gt;O meu muito obrigada pelo Amor&lt;br /&gt;que me têm demonstrado&lt;br /&gt;Neste meu regresso ao trabalho.&lt;br /&gt;Dorido, como todos os recomeços,&lt;br /&gt;Mas pleno de demonstrações de carinho&lt;br /&gt;Que me fazem chorar de ALEGRIA...&lt;br /&gt;E esquecer mágoas pessoais dum passado,&lt;br /&gt;Ainda não totalmente, ultrapassado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É bom sentirmo-nos amados,&lt;br /&gt;Melhor ainda por aqueles a quem tudo damos&lt;br /&gt;Com muitas horas de trabalho, sacrifício e dedicação&lt;br /&gt;A todos saúdo com todo o carinho que resta no coração.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Obrigada, mil vezes obrigada,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Os vossos gestos de carinho valem mais do que todas as minhas palavras.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tenho-vos no meu coração&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carla&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-9123284699630334222?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/9123284699630334222/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=9123284699630334222' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/9123284699630334222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/9123284699630334222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/aos-meus-alunos-quem-tanto-quero.html' title='Aos meus alunos, a quem tanto quero...'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RaeImdALh0I/AAAAAAAAABY/V64rdb6hA2U/s72-c/P1010022.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-8404664922056979827</id><published>2007-01-11T13:07:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-11T13:12:38.283Z</updated><title type='text'>Raio de luz</title><content type='html'>Adoro mergulhar nos raios de sol,&lt;br /&gt;Explodir no calor da luz!Voltar a sentir-me viva&lt;br /&gt;Sentir a carícia do vento,&lt;br /&gt;Reviver momentos felizes,&lt;br /&gt;Inventar novos sonhos...&lt;br /&gt;E sorrir como uma criança feliz&lt;br /&gt;Por voltar a ver a luz por entre a escuridão.&lt;br /&gt;Brincar com as sombras&lt;br /&gt;Que antes me atormentavam.&lt;br /&gt;Pontapear a tristeza,&lt;br /&gt;Abraçar a beleza de um novo dia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-8404664922056979827?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/8404664922056979827/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=8404664922056979827' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8404664922056979827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8404664922056979827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/raio-de-luz.html' title='Raio de luz'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-592230134233810665</id><published>2007-01-09T12:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-09T12:43:30.188Z</updated><title type='text'>Fenix</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://images.google.pt/images?q=tbn:KP_SBtUkEao9dM:http://www.conciencia-animal.cl/paginas/temas/fotos/ave-fenix.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://images.google.pt/images?q=tbn:KP_SBtUkEao9dM:http://www.conciencia-animal.cl/paginas/temas/fotos/ave-fenix.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Foto retirada de : www.conciencia-animal.cl/.../fotos/ave-fenix.jpg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FENIX&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sinto as lágrimas caírem lentamente...&lt;br /&gt;No meu rosto sulcando trilhos&lt;br /&gt;Que, inesperadamente,&lt;br /&gt;Me fazem voltar a ver os brilhos&lt;br /&gt;Dos sorrisos de quem amo...&lt;br /&gt;Lágrimas de alegria,&lt;br /&gt;Tão diferentes das anteriores&lt;br /&gt;Que me roubavam o alento&lt;br /&gt;Com que antes sorria.&lt;br /&gt;Hoje luto e tento&lt;br /&gt;Recuperar dia-a-dia&lt;br /&gt;A tenacidade com que acalento&lt;br /&gt;Os novos sonhos que irrompem&lt;br /&gt;das brumas da tristeza&lt;br /&gt;Em que antes cobardamente me ocultei&lt;br /&gt;Sem procurar a firmeza&lt;br /&gt;das armas com que sempre lutei:&lt;br /&gt;Ser eu com todos os meus defeitos,&lt;br /&gt;Com todas as minhas (poucas) virtudes...&lt;br /&gt;Mas com a garra de quem não apregoa os seus feitos&lt;br /&gt;Apesar da voragem dos obstáculos e das dificuldades&lt;br /&gt;De sempre lutar pelas verdades.&lt;br /&gt;Ah! Que prazer ter a rectidão&lt;br /&gt;de poder olhar quem nos ama&lt;br /&gt;com a força da emoção...&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo quando a tristeza assoma&lt;br /&gt;Lutar por voltar a sentir o coração&lt;br /&gt;Bater em uníssono com a alma.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-592230134233810665?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/592230134233810665/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=592230134233810665' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/592230134233810665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/592230134233810665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/fenix.html' title='Fenix'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-2759977631672820439</id><published>2007-01-09T11:05:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-09T11:33:37.494Z</updated><title type='text'>Passo a passo</title><content type='html'>Como é difícil fugir do abismo&lt;br /&gt;Que suga, num vórtice de energia,&lt;br /&gt;Todas as forças com que tento resistir...&lt;br /&gt;Aos pensamentos em que sempre cismo,&lt;br /&gt;Sem me aperceber que urgia,&lt;br /&gt;Voltar a ser eu e sorrir&lt;br /&gt;Sem que um assombro de tristeza&lt;br /&gt;Me nublasse a alegria&lt;br /&gt;Que fugaz esconde a beleza&lt;br /&gt;Dum sorriso espontâneo que, inesperadamente,&lt;br /&gt;Faz renascer em mim a certeza&lt;br /&gt;Que tudo passa mais rapidamente&lt;br /&gt;Do que a dor me quer fazer acreditar&lt;br /&gt;Ditadora da minha vontade&lt;br /&gt;Com quem acerrimamente&lt;br /&gt;Me forço a lutar&lt;br /&gt;Para recuperar a minha liberdade.&lt;br /&gt;Passo a passo luto,&lt;br /&gt;Passo a passo procuro com ansiedade&lt;br /&gt;A chave para fugir&lt;br /&gt;desta triste realidade.&lt;br /&gt;Passo a passo&lt;br /&gt;Tento fugir deste labirinto&lt;br /&gt;Com grande  esforço&lt;br /&gt;Vou tentando subir&lt;br /&gt;Os degraus deste poço&lt;br /&gt;Em que nada sinto,&lt;br /&gt;Em que me via a sucumbir&lt;br /&gt;Num amargo de absinto.&lt;br /&gt;Agora já tento ver a luz&lt;br /&gt;Que antes julgava que me cegava.&lt;br /&gt;E agora, lentamente, sinto que me seduz&lt;br /&gt;Para lutar contra a dor que antes cegamente aceitava.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-2759977631672820439?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/2759977631672820439/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=2759977631672820439' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2759977631672820439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2759977631672820439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/passo-passo.html' title='Passo a passo'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-2173071197673101</id><published>2007-01-09T10:34:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-09T12:06:43.680Z</updated><title type='text'>Dia-a dia</title><content type='html'>Há dias em que a esperança renasce,&lt;br /&gt;Em que o sol brilha e me aquece&lt;br /&gt;A alma fria e desiludida.&lt;br /&gt;Dias, nos quais me entrego&lt;br /&gt;ao calor dos que me mostraram carinho,&lt;br /&gt;Durante este árduo caminho,&lt;br /&gt;Em que a dor era o meu alter-ego.&lt;br /&gt;E os sonhos caiam, desfeitos&lt;br /&gt;Um a um, antes de os sonhar...&lt;br /&gt;O ar que respirava parecia-me rarefeito&lt;br /&gt;Tal era a dificuldade em respirar.&lt;br /&gt;Dores emocionais que eclipsavam&lt;br /&gt;Memórias de dias outrora felizes,&lt;br /&gt;Abismos que me afundavam&lt;br /&gt;Nas escolhas, em que os deslizes&lt;br /&gt;Venceram a razão,&lt;br /&gt;Eclipsando a racionalidade,&lt;br /&gt;Arrastando-me para a solidão,&lt;br /&gt;Irmã secreta da insanidade!&lt;br /&gt;A luta que dia-a dia travo&lt;br /&gt;É dura, amarga e cruel.&lt;br /&gt;Com as lágrimas lavo&lt;br /&gt;O meu rasto de fel...&lt;br /&gt;Ah! Se ao menos recuperasse&lt;br /&gt;As cores que antes me iluminaram&lt;br /&gt;E ficasse tão exausta que esquecesse&lt;br /&gt;Os dias sombrios que me endureceram&lt;br /&gt;O coração dolorido&lt;br /&gt;De tanto ter sofrido...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-2173071197673101?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/2173071197673101/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=2173071197673101' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2173071197673101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2173071197673101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/dias.html' title='Dia-a dia'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-1100950532749299369</id><published>2007-01-07T12:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-07T12:50:04.460Z</updated><title type='text'>Caminhos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RaDmTqrTuJI/AAAAAAAAAA8/30IY305Htws/s1600-h/P1010058.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017263210438572178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RaDmTqrTuJI/AAAAAAAAAA8/30IY305Htws/s200/P1010058.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há caminhos que percorremos&lt;br /&gt;Em dias tristes e desesperados&lt;br /&gt;Até que ao sol nos esquecemos&lt;br /&gt;E voltamos a sentir... calados&lt;br /&gt;A alegria de sermos amados&lt;br /&gt;Por aqueles a quem tudo damos&lt;br /&gt;Sem esperar nada em troca...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Este post é uma singela homenagem&lt;br /&gt;a todos os meus alunos que, com tanto amor,&lt;br /&gt;Me receberam de volta...&lt;br /&gt;Aquecendo-me o coração de calor&lt;br /&gt;Sem nada pedirem em troca,&lt;br /&gt;A não ser a coragem&lt;br /&gt;De lhes devolver a ternura&lt;br /&gt;Com que outrora os envolvi&lt;br /&gt;Na doce loucura&lt;br /&gt;De tentar ensinar o que aprendi,&lt;br /&gt;Com o bom humor&lt;br /&gt;Que antes vivi.&lt;br /&gt;Na partilha da cumplicidade&lt;br /&gt;De sermos todos diferentes&lt;br /&gt;no meio de tanta personalidade...&lt;br /&gt;E isso nos fazer sentir contentes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-1100950532749299369?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/1100950532749299369/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=1100950532749299369' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1100950532749299369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/1100950532749299369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/caminhos.html' title='Caminhos'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RaDmTqrTuJI/AAAAAAAAAA8/30IY305Htws/s72-c/P1010058.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-4412874890176499182</id><published>2007-01-02T18:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-07T12:52:45.986Z</updated><title type='text'>Mar</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RZqrk_OGHEI/AAAAAAAAAAw/RG95TxjAdYY/s1600-h/P1010110.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015509786964663362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RZqrk_OGHEI/AAAAAAAAAAw/RG95TxjAdYY/s200/P1010110.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MAR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não há como o mar para nos encher a alma,&lt;br /&gt;Preencher os sonhos esquecidos,&lt;br /&gt;Desfazer os medos com a espuma.&lt;br /&gt;De azul pincelar os dias perdidos&lt;br /&gt;E voltar, pouco a pouco,a sorrir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Renascer da dor,&lt;br /&gt;Abrir os olhos e colorir&lt;br /&gt;a tela da alma com a mais bela cor...&lt;br /&gt;Com o cheiro da maresia&lt;br /&gt;Salpicar de felicidade a dor.&lt;br /&gt;Acreditar na fantasia&lt;br /&gt;E voltar a ouvir, no som das ondas,&lt;br /&gt;Memórias de histórias de coragem&lt;br /&gt;De gentes ousadas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na marítima aragem&lt;br /&gt;Ecoam feitos passados.&lt;br /&gt;Daqueles que venceram o medo da traição,&lt;br /&gt;Dos que já foram amados...&lt;br /&gt;E sobreviveram, acreditando&lt;br /&gt;Que todo o coração&lt;br /&gt;Esquece, voltando&lt;br /&gt;A sentir o pulsar da emoção!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-4412874890176499182?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/4412874890176499182/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=4412874890176499182' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/4412874890176499182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/4412874890176499182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/mar.html' title='Mar'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RZqrk_OGHEI/AAAAAAAAAAw/RG95TxjAdYY/s72-c/P1010110.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-779002031971143417</id><published>2007-01-02T18:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-07T12:58:00.163Z</updated><title type='text'>"FERA FERIDA"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RZqpLvOGHDI/AAAAAAAAAAk/TzO84z2QEyk/s1600-h/P1010084.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015507154149710898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RZqpLvOGHDI/AAAAAAAAAAk/TzO84z2QEyk/s200/P1010084.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"FERA FERIDA"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Acabei com tudo &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Escapei com vida&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tive as roupas e os sonhos&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Rasgados na minha saída&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas saí ferido&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sufocando meu gemido&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fui o alvo perfeito&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Muitas vezes no peito atingido&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Animal arisco&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Domesticado esquece o risco&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me deixei enganar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E até me levar por você&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu sei&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quanta tristeza eu tive&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas mesmo assim se vive&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Morrendo aos poucos por amor&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu sei&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;O coração perdoa&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas não esquece à toa&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E eu não me esqueci&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu andei demais&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não olhei pra trás&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Era solto em meus passos&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bicho livre, sem rumo, sem laços&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me senti sozinho&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tropeçando em meu caminho&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;À procura de abrigo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Uma ajuda, um lugar, um amigo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Animal ferido&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por instinto decidido&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os meus rastros desfiz&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tentativa infeliz de esquecer&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu sei&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que flores existiram&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas que não resistiram&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A vendavais constantes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu sei&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que as cicatrizes falam&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas as palavras calam&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;O que eu não me esqueci&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não vou mudar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Esse caso não tem solução&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sou fera ferida&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No corpo, na alma e no coração&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by Maria Bethania&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-779002031971143417?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/779002031971143417/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=779002031971143417' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/779002031971143417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/779002031971143417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2007/01/fera-ferida.html' title='&quot;FERA FERIDA&quot;'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RZqpLvOGHDI/AAAAAAAAAAk/TzO84z2QEyk/s72-c/P1010084.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-6548035980972841653</id><published>2006-12-17T17:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-17T17:15:01.218Z</updated><title type='text'>"Livro de Horas"</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"Aqui, diante de mim,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu, pecador, me confesso&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;De ser assim como sou.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me confesso o bom e o mau&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que vão ao leme da nau&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;nesta deriva em que vou.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me confesso&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Possesso&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Das virtudes teologais,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que são três,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E dos pecados mortais,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que são sete,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quando a terra não repete&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que são mais.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me confesso&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;O dono das minhas horas. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;O das facadas cegas e raivosas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;e o das ternuras lúcidas e mansas.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E de ser de qualquer modo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Andanças&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do mesmo todo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me confesso de ser charco&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E luar de charco, à mistura.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;De ser a corda do arco&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que atira setas acima&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E abaixo da minha altura.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me confesso de ser tudo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que possa nascer em mim.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;De ter raízes no chão&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Desta minha condição.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me confesso de Abel e Caim.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me confesso de ser Homem.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;De ser um anjo caído&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do tal céu que Deus governa;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;De ser um monstro saído&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do buraco mais fundo da caverna.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me confesso de ser eu.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu, tal e qual como vim&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Para dizer que sou eu&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Aqui diante de mim!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miguel Torga, in &lt;em&gt;O Outro Livro de Job&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-6548035980972841653?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/6548035980972841653/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=6548035980972841653' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6548035980972841653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/6548035980972841653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2006/12/livro-de-horas.html' title='&quot;Livro de Horas&quot;'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-91672406507419772</id><published>2006-12-17T16:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-17T17:02:29.735Z</updated><title type='text'>Perfil</title><content type='html'>Perfil&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Não. Não tenho limites.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quero de tudo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tudo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;O ramo que sacudo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fica varejado.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Já nascido em pecado,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Todos os meus pecados são mortais.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Todos tão naturais&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;À minha condição,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que quando, por excepção, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os não pratico&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;É que me mortifico.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alma perdida&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Antes de se perder,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sou uma fome incontida&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;De viver.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E o que redime a vida&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;É ela não caber&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Em nenhuma medida."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Miguel Torga, in Diário XIII&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-91672406507419772?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/91672406507419772/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=91672406507419772' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/91672406507419772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/91672406507419772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2006/12/perfil.html' title='Perfil'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-8361913892854193174</id><published>2006-12-17T16:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-17T16:44:19.824Z</updated><title type='text'>Veneno com Veneno</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"- A mentira (...) é uma opção. Consiste numa contextualização arbitrária e consciente, com um objectivo. Enquanto a verdade é abertura e cria vulnerabilidade, a mentira é controlo, equacionamento e protecção, bem como risco calculado.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Falar verdade é fácil. Não exige mestria nem sabedoria. É básico. Mentir, por seu lado, é um exercício que apela ao balanço, cálculo, avaliação, arte, desenvoltura, representação, mímica, memória, raciocínio, sentido de plausibilidade. É um jogo exigente que obriga ao nosso melhor, pois, se não for ganho, o resultado é a desgraça ou o descrédito do indivíduo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ter consciência das implicações da mentira leva-nos a controlar o comportamento e a direccionar os objectivos. A deliberada denúncia de uma mentira é, por parte do jogador exímio, uma atitude falsa, que resulta numa vitória e num caminho para uma jogada maior. A consciência da existência de uma relativa capacidade de observação do interlocutor leva o mentiroso a um refinamento do seu comportamento, surtindo, quando capaz, um efeito mais profundo&lt;em&gt;. Qui s'excuse s' &lt;/em&gt;accuse só funciona entre níveis de jogadores diferentes, entre percepções díspares&lt;em&gt;. eu sei que tu sabes que eu sei que tu sabes &lt;/em&gt;... leva a um esgrimir inconsequente e interminável, que só poderá encontrar resolução se, ao longo do percurso, houver um deslize ou uma incauta denúncia. de outra forma, as regras que definem o mentiroso e as regras  a que o mentiroso recorre só servirão para tornar a acção nula, porquanto ambos os interlocutores dominam as técnicas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O elemento que permite desequilibrar o combate de mentiras é a introdução de verdades, ou meias verdades, devidamente doseadas e calculadas.O jogo passa a ter, então, uma complexidade tal que nem mesmo um interlocutor esclarecido sobre as técnicas da mentira consegue detectar com facilidade o grau de mentira.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Uma mentira pode, então, tornar-se numa verdade."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Sérgio Lorré, &lt;em&gt;Veneno com Veneno&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-8361913892854193174?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/8361913892854193174/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=8361913892854193174' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8361913892854193174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/8361913892854193174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2006/12/veneno-com-veneno.html' title='Veneno com Veneno'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-2845684418472174960</id><published>2006-12-17T13:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-17T13:30:44.128Z</updated><title type='text'>"Princesa" Sofia</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RYVC-T15DLI/AAAAAAAAAAY/rVdb6ExBkQo/s1600-h/P1010093.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5009483798765178034" style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RYVC-T15DLI/AAAAAAAAAAY/rVdb6ExBkQo/s200/P1010093.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esta semana estive ausente dos meus problemas...ocupada com a minha "princesa" Sofia, que preencheu os dias sem sentido da tia babada e cansada da vida, que "passou" pelos dias sem pensar em si, mas sim na magia de ser criança . &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Queria aqui deixar um louvor à Biblioteca Municipal de Beja pelo carinho com que sempre nos recebem e pelo "espaço".&lt;br /&gt;E quando falo em espaço, eu leitora compulsiva assumida, não me refiro só ao sector de leitura, abarco todo o edifício. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hoje aproveito para salientar o local que mais frequentei durante a semana: a Bebéteca- um refúgio onde os sonhos das crianças podem acontecer e onde pais, tias e restante família conseguem voltar a sorrir, longe do bulício do quotidiano e voltar a sentir a ingenuidade e a alegria de viver das crianças.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-2845684418472174960?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/2845684418472174960/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=2845684418472174960' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2845684418472174960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/2845684418472174960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2006/12/princesa.html' title='&quot;Princesa&quot; Sofia'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RYVC-T15DLI/AAAAAAAAAAY/rVdb6ExBkQo/s72-c/P1010093.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5086530892697376697</id><published>2006-12-17T12:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-17T13:11:33.983Z</updated><title type='text'>Coragem</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RYU9TT15DKI/AAAAAAAAAAM/4B1gadS7H6E/s1600-h/P1010075.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5009477562472664226" style="FLOAT: center; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RYU9TT15DKI/AAAAAAAAAAM/4B1gadS7H6E/s200/P1010075.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há dias em que a alma me sorri...&lt;br /&gt;Dias raros de sorte,&lt;br /&gt;Em que esqueço o pesadelo que vivi&lt;br /&gt;e sonho que não volte.&lt;br /&gt;Momentos de força em que tenho coragem&lt;br /&gt;Para sair deste abismo,&lt;br /&gt;Em que me animo e pinto com a voragem &lt;br /&gt;Com que noutros dias choro e cismo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-5086530892697376697?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5086530892697376697/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5086530892697376697' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5086530892697376697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5086530892697376697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2006/12/coragem.html' title='Coragem'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/RYU9TT15DKI/AAAAAAAAAAM/4B1gadS7H6E/s72-c/P1010075.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30117683.post-5512961324023995627</id><published>2006-12-10T15:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-10T16:05:20.640Z</updated><title type='text'>O Prometido é Devido....</title><content type='html'>Aqui está, através do mail que me enviou a minha Laura, a letra da música que o meu 9º D me dedicou e que prometi postar logo que tivesse a letra:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ela triste estava e nós não ajudamos&lt;br /&gt;Estamos arrependidos, mas agora já é tarde&lt;br /&gt;Esta música é para a prof. nos perdoar&lt;br /&gt;Já é dia, já  é hora de voltar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aqui ao pé do 9ºD (9ºD) só a prof. fica só ela pode ficar! (bis)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vamos acabar&lt;br /&gt;porque temos beijos para dar&lt;br /&gt;Aqui ao pé do 9ºD, ao pé de nós, só a prof. fica, só ela pode ficar!&lt;br /&gt;nanana..na&lt;br /&gt;nanana..na só a prof. fica, só ela pode ficar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aproveito  também para voltar a agradecer e, ainda,  para postar as palavras de encorajamento que ela me enviou:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"(A música pode ser simples, mas tivemos muito carinho em faze-la)&lt;br /&gt;Melhore depressa que temos saudades suas! =P&lt;br /&gt;Beijinhos grandes Laura*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.: "Nenhum caminho é longo demais quando um amigo nos acompanha." Lembre-se que tem aqui cerca de 25 amigos sempre dispostos a ajuda-la ;)&lt;br /&gt;Muita força para ultrapassar esta crise =) " &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30117683-5512961324023995627?l=ciprita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/feeds/5512961324023995627/comments/default' title='Enviar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30117683&amp;postID=5512961324023995627' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5512961324023995627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30117683/posts/default/5512961324023995627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ciprita.blogspot.com/2006/12/o-prometido-devido.html' title='O Prometido é Devido....'/><author><name>ciprita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11160051653058476181</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U24YHWhX_gY/SHKhz-yo55I/AAAAAAAAAQM/i_BucgCNnok/S220/naid.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
