Jardim Antero de Quental, Ponta Delgada.

                                                                         Solemnia Verba

                                                                         Disse ao meu coração: Olha por quantos
                                                                         Caminhos vãos andámos! Considera
                                                                         Agora, desta altura, fria e austera,
                                                                         Os ermos que regaram nossos prantos...

                                                                         Pó e cinzas, onde houve flor e encantos!
                                                                         E a noite, onde foi luz a Primavera!
                                                                         Olha a teus pés o mundo e desespera,
                                                                         Semeador de sombras e quebrantos!

                                                                         Porém o coração, feito valente
                                                                         Na escola da tortura repetida,
                                                                         E no uso do pensar tornado crente,

                                                                         Respondeu: Desta altura vejo o Amor!
                                                                         Viver não foi em vão, se isto é vida,
                                                                         Nem foi demais o desengano e a dor.

                                                                         Antero de Quental, in "Sonetos"

                                                                         Contemplação

                                                                         Sonho de olhos abertos, caminhando
                                                                         Não entre as formas já e as aparências,
                                                                         Mas vendo a face imóvel das essências,
                                                                         Entre idéias e espíritos pairando...

                                                                         Que é o mundo ante mim? fumo ondeando,
                                                                         Visões sem ser, fragmentos de existências...
                                                                         Uma névoa de enganos e impotências
                                                                         Sobre vácuo insondável rastejando...

                                                                         E d'entre a névoa e a sombra universais
                                                                         Só me chega um murmúrio, feito de ais...
                                                                         É a queixa, o profundíssimo gemido

                                                                         Das coisas, que procuram cegamente
                                                                         Na sua noite e dolorosamente 
                                                                         Outra luz, outro fim só presentido...

                                                                         Antero de Quental, in "Sonetos"

FOTOS________________

Ponta Delgada

Ilha de São Miguel, Açores

Abril '12