tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70135590598008286752011-10-01T15:00:13.806+01:00Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03944561595131520662noreply@blogger.comBlogger41100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7013559059800828675.post-42692881019726391392010-05-19T14:41:00.001+01:002011-09-06T19:46:07.876+01:00<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7013559059800828675-4269288101972639139?l=sonhares.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03944561595131520662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7013559059800828675.post-60657717267727204732010-05-19T03:19:00.003+01:002010-05-19T03:24:53.300+01:00<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7013559059800828675-6065771726772720473?l=sonhares.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03944561595131520662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7013559059800828675.post-9056001736332191682009-06-17T20:22:00.000+01:002009-07-12T04:36:47.252+01:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M1y5oaEdBwc/SjlGglTwR6I/AAAAAAAAACU/c0Sc1m2MhXM/s1600-h/vero_atanacio_turning_r.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348383558063900578" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M1y5oaEdBwc/SjlGglTwR6I/AAAAAAAAACU/c0Sc1m2MhXM/s320/vero_atanacio_turning_r.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Neste pequeno espaço onde por vezes pairo<br />há o canto dos pássaros que me envolve </div><div>e faz com que salte o que há de melhor em mim.<br />Fico entre a realidade e a exaltação do sonho</div><div>num espaço onde não há dor ...<br />na dormencia mágica da vida.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><em>pb</em></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7013559059800828675-905600173633219168?l=sonhares.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03944561595131520662noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7013559059800828675.post-3585661444870099852009-06-08T23:59:00.000+01:002009-06-09T00:11:47.636+01:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M1y5oaEdBwc/Si2Z0EGuesI/AAAAAAAAAB4/gJCILp8h4GM/s1600-h/mulher.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_M1y5oaEdBwc/Si2Z0EGuesI/AAAAAAAAAB4/gJCILp8h4GM/s320/mulher.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345097452492847810" /></a> <br />As palavras <br /> <br />São como um cristal, <br />as palavras. <br />Algumas, um punhal, <br />um incêndio. <br />Outras, <br />orvalho apenas. <br /> <br />Secretas vêm, <br />cheias de memória. <br />Inseguras navegam: <br />barcos ou beijos, <br />as águas estremecem. <br /> <br />Desamparadas, inocentes, <br />leves. <br />Tecidas são de luz <br />e são a noite. <br />E mesmo pálidas <br />verdes paraísos lembram ainda. <br /> <br />Quem as escuta? <br />Quem as recolhe, assim, <br />cruéis, desfeitas, <br />nas suas conchas puras? <br /> <br />(Eugénio de Andrade) <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7013559059800828675-358566144487009985?l=sonhares.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Pedrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03944561595131520662noreply@blogger.com0