SENHORA, PARTEM TÃO TRISTES ...MEUS OLHOS POR VÓS MEU BEM ...TU QUE NEM SEQUER EXISTES...NA SOMBRA DOS OLHOS TRISTES ,,,NEM NOS OLHOS DE NINGUÉM,,,NO NADA SEMPRE RESISTES ....NAS SOMBRAS EM QUE PERSISTES ,,,SOZINHA SEM TER POR QUEM ...PEDES O NOME A ALGUÉM ....QUE FAÇA DE TI SENHORA ...E A VIDA LOGO MELHORA...E NO NADA TUDO FICA BEM.....NO ROMBO DOS DIAS TRISTES,,,,,PARTEM TRISTES OS TRASTES ,,,TU QUE ÉS NADA E PERSISTES...NO ERRO QUE REFORMASTE ...NUNCA TÃO TRISTES VISTES ...NAS GENTES QUE ENGANASTE...MEXIÂNICA NÚNICA MÚMICA...CHEGAM TÃO TRISTES OS TRISTES ...TÃO FORA DE ESPERAR BEM .....QUE NUNCA DOS TRISTES DESISTES....NU NO MUNDO COMO NINGUÉM.....AH A TENSÃO, REPOUSAVAS....E MAL TE MEXIAS....E EM COMA FOLGAVAS ......DAS BACANAIS E AZIAS ...A RELES CALAFATE DAVAS....O CORAÇÃO MARINHEIRO ....E A ELE TE SUJEITAVAS ....E LHE DAVAS O MUNDO INTEIRO...NO COMA FEBRIL SOFRESTE.....NO COMA EM QUE TE PERDESTE ...ONÍRICO CALAFATE CONHECESTE.....SOFRE EM TAL SUJEIÇÃO ...COMO SOCRATES PRESO ESTAVAS ...MAS DISSO NÃO TE LEMBRAVAS ....POIS SOFRIAS DO CORAÇÃO ..E NESSA INSUFICIÊNCIA ESCAPAVAS ...ÀS ATENÇÕES DAS ESCRAVAS ..E DA RELES GENTE DAS LAVRAS ,,,,E A ENXURRADAS DE PALAVRAS ...MEXIÂNICA EM CALAFATE DE FORÇA FORÇA CAMARADA VASCOS DAS GAMAS NOS ASCOS DAS CAMAS SUJAS E OUTRAS QUE TAIS MAIS SABUJAS

TÃO TRISTES SÃO TEUS DIAS


TRISTES COMO NUNCA VISTES


QUE A NÓS TRISTES NOS GUIAS

TRISTES A NÓS NOS ENQUISTES

TRISTES COMO NOS QUERIAS

TU QUE NO NADA EXISTES

TU QUE NO NADA PERSISTES

TU QUE EM NADA TE ESVAZIAS

O DEUS TATUADO NA CRUZ entrou a imperar Maximino, e no mesmo ano começou a fatal declinação e ruína do Império romano. Imperando Galério Maximiano em Roma, e conhecendo por muitas experiências que uma monarquia tão vasta não podia ser bem governada por um só homem (o que já tinha antevisto o mesmo Júlio César, seu fundador, quando lhe definiu certos limites), determinou dividi-la em duas partes e duas cabeças, como com efeito a dividiu em dois imperadores e dois impérios: um chamado ocidental, de que continuou a ser cabeça Roma , outro chamado oriental, de que começou a ser cabeça Constantinopla; e foram os dois novos imperadores, do ocidente Severo, e do oriente Maximino, ambos tiranos, mas com os nomes trocados; porque Maximino não só foi severo, senão o extremo da severidade e da sevícia. Por esta ocasião a águia, insígnia das bandeiras romanas, que até então tinha uma só cabeça, começou a aparecer com duas, como hoje a vemos, posto que é mais fácil copiar o pintado, que restaurar o verdadeiro. E como a divisão em todas as comunidades de homens e de coroas é indício fatal de declinação e ruína, assim o foi no império e águia romana a divisão daquelas duas cabeças. Já o profeta Daniel o tinha mostrado na mesma divisão, não das cabeças da águia, senão dos pés da estátua. Na estátua de Nabucodonosor, formada das quatro monarquias ou impérios, que sucessivamente haviam de florescer no Mundo, a cabeça de ouro significava o império dos assírios; o peito de prata, o império dos persas; o ventre de bronze, o império dos gregos; e o resto de ferro até os pés, o império dos romanos. E porque bastou que tocasse os mesmos pés uma pedra arrancada do monte sem mãos, para que caísse toda a estátua, e o mesmo império romano, e as outras monarquias, que nele por sucessão se continuavam, ficassem convertidas em pó?—Porque naqueles dois pés, divididos entre si, e cada pé dividido em cinco dedos, e cada dedo dividido em ferro e barro, teve o seu último complemento a divisão do império romano. E assim como nas duas cabeças da águia, em que começou a divisão do mesmo império, começou a sua declinação; assim na divisão dos dois pés da estátua, em que teve o último complemento a sua divisão, teve também o último fim a sua ruína. De sorte (reduzindo a conclusão aos termos da nossa metáfora) que a roda da Fortuna do império romano, na divisão das duas cabeças da águia, começou a voltar, e na divisão dos dois pés da estátua, acabou a volta. Agora havemos de ouvir a Plutarco, o famoso filósofo grego, que não é dos que convenceu Santa Catarina, porque floresceu muito antes; mas eu o quero convencer a ele, digno de se ouvir neste caso. Excitando Plutarco e disputando uma questão sobre a fortuna do império romano, diz assim: Fortuna persis et aissyriis desertis, cum leviter pervolasset Macedoniam et celeriter abjecisset Alexandrum. ægyptiosque, deinde et Syriam peragrando regna extulisset et sæpe conversa carthaginenses tulissett, postquam transmisso Tiberi ad palatium appropinquavit, alas deposuit, talaria exuit, ac infideli et versatili globo misso, Romam intravit mansura. Quer dizer: A Fortuna, depois de deixar os persas e assírios, depois de voar levemente pela Macedônia e rejeitar Alexandre e os que no Egito lhe sucederam, depois de andar pela Síria levantando e desfazendo reinos, e se deter, já próspera, já adversa, com os cartagineses, passando finalmente o Tibre, chegou ao capitólio romano, e ali arrancou dos ombros as asas maiores e descalçou dos pés as menores, ali se despojou e desarmou do globo, ou roda variável e inconstante, e ali, isto é, em Roma, fez o seu perpétuo assento, para nela perseverar e morar sempre firme e sem mudança. Isto é o que disse Plutarco, e isto o que criam os imperadores romanos, os quais sobre esta fé fundaram de ouro uma estátua da sua Fortuna e a colocaram no mesmo aposento onde eles dormiam, como que pudessem dormir seguros, pois a Fortuna lhe guardava o sono; e quando algum imperador morria, passava e era levada a mesma estátua ao sucessor, mostrando a vaidade e superstição dos que chegavam a alcançar a coroa romana, que podiam restar da Fortuna, como de patrimônio hereditário e próprio. Estava isto escrito nos seus Anais, como oráculo dos deuses; isto celebravam os seus poetas, os bucólicos com frautas pastoris à sombra das faias ; os heróicos com trombetas marciais em assombro das outras nações; e assim o cantou com elegante mentira o maior de todos, quando disse: Higo ego nec metas rerum, nec tempora pono, Imperium sine fine dedi (I). Agora pudera eu perguntar aos imperadores romanos, ou dormindo ou acordados, onde está aquela sua Fortuna de ouro, ou o ouro daquela Fortuna? Foi volta da mesma Fortuna, verdadeiramente lastimosa. Quando Alarico sitiou a Roma, viram-se os romanos tão apertados, que houveram de remir a dinheiro o levantar-se o sitio, e então entre o ouro e prata das outras estátuas dos seus deuses, foi também batido em moeda o ouro da sua Fortuna. Assim dormiam seguros os que se fiavam da fé de uma traidora e da vigilância de uma cega. Mas eu só quero confundir e envergonhar a Plutarco com as palavras da sua mesma lisonja. Diz que depôs a Fortuna ao pé do capitólio a roda. E quantas vezes a tornou a tomar e lhe deu tais voltas na Itália e dentro da mesma Roma, que meteu a que era cabeça do Mundo debaixo dos pés de Atila e Totila, inundada de godos e hunos, de suevos e alanos, e de tantos outros bárbaros? Diz do mesmo modo, que também depôs ali a Fortuna as asas. E quantas vezes as tornou a tomar e voou às Germanias, às Gálias e às Espanhas, que Roma imaginava pacificamente sujeitas com os presídios das suas legiões, contra as quais, porém, se levantaram então aquelas mesmas nações, como tão altivas e belicosas, não só restituindo-se cada uma ao que era seu, mas cortando às águias romanas as unhas com que lho tinham roubado? Diz mais, que em Roma fez a Fortuna o seu assento, para nela morar perpetuamente. E se no interior da mesma Roma recorrermos às cousas de maior duração, quais são os mármores; quantos anos, e quantos séculos há, que dos mesmos mármores levantados em obeliscos e arcos triunfais, se vêem só as miseráveis ruínas, ou meio sepultadas já ou cobertas de hera? Finalmente, aquele império sem fim, a que a fortuna não pôs metas ou limites alguns, nem à grandeza, nem ao tempo, diga-nos a mesma Fortuna onde está, e onde o tem escondido? Busque-se em todo o Mundo o império romano, e não se achará dele mais que o nome, e este não em Roma, senão muito longe dela. Acabaram-se as guerras e vitórias romanas, não só fechados, mas quebrados para sempre os ferrolhos das portas de Jano; acabaram-se os capitólios; acabaram-se os consulados; acabaram-se as ditaduras; acabaram-se para os generais as ovações e os triunfos; acabaram-se para os capitães famosos as estátuas e inscrições; acabaram-se para os soldados as coroas cívicas, murais e rostratas; acabaram-se enfim com o império os mesmos imperadores, e só vivem e reinam, ao revés da roda da Fortuna, os que eles quiseram acabar. Acabou Nero; e vivem e reinam Pedro e Paulo; acabou Trajano, e vive e reina Clemente; acabou Marco Aurélio, e vive e reina Policarpo; acabou Vespasiano, e vive e reina Apolinar; acabou Valeriano, e vive e reina Lourenço; acabou enfim Maximino, e vive e reina Catarina; ele, e os outros imperadores, porque se fiaram falsamente do império sem fim: Imperium sine fine dedi; e ela com os seus e com os outros mártires, porque reinam e hão de reinar por toda a eternidade com Cristo, no Reino que verdadeiramente não há de ter fim: Cujus regni non erit finis. Siquidem similis eris illi, cum videris eum sicuti est, esto et nunc similis ei, videns eum sicuti propter te factos est.Flet quoque, ut in speculo rugas conspexit aniles Tindaris, et secum cur sit bis rapta requirit. Que coisa é a formosura, senão uma caveira bem vestida, SÃO LIVROS QUE UMA VEZ LIDO NADA TÊM PARA RELERAcertaram, porém, os mesmos gentios na figura que lhe deram de mulher, pela inconstância; nas asas dos pés, pela velocidade com que se muda; e sobretudo em lhos porem sobre uma roda; porque nem no próspero, nem no adverso, e muito menos no próspero, teve jamais firmeza. Dos que a fizeram de ouro diremos depois; o que agora somente me parece dizer, é que os que a fingiram de vidro pela fragilidade, fingiram e encareceram pouco; porque ainda que a formassem de bronze, nunca lhe podiam segurar a inconstância da roda. Em uma das fábricas particulares e famosas do Templo, diz o texto sagrado, que fez Salomão dez bases de bronze, quadradas e iguais por todas as partes: Fecit decem bases aneas, quatuor cubitorum longitudinis, bases singulas et quatuor cubitorum latitudinis (3. Reg. VII-27). Diz mais (o que se o não dissera, não se imaginara) que estas dez bases se assentara cada uma sobre quatro rodas: Et quatuor rota per bases singulas (Ibid.—3o): acrescentando para maior clareza, que as rodas eram propriamente como as das carroças, com seus eixos, raios e tudo o mais fundido também no mesmo bronze: Tales autem rotæ erant quales solent in curru fieri; et axes earum, et radii, et canthi, et modioli, omniu fusilia (Ibid. —33). Toda esta miudeza foi necessário que se explicasse, para que se entendesse a obra, da qual se não fora o autor Salomão, quem haveria que ao menos não estranhasse tal modo de arquitetura? As bases são o fundamento e firmeza de toda a fábrica; a figura quadrada, entre todas as figuras a mais firme; o bronze, entre todos os metais o mais forte. Pelo contrário, as rodas com eixos, e todos os outros instrumentos de se moverem, são entre todas as cousas a menos constante, a menos estável, a menos firme. Pois porque assenta a sabedoria de Salomão toda a firmeza e fortaleza das suas bases sobre rodas? Assentadas as bases sobre rodas, ficam sendo as rodas bases das bases; e isto, que não faria, não digo eu Vitrúvio, (I) senão o arquiteto mais imperito, que o fizesse Salomão?!—Sim, e com tanta arte como mistério. Aquela obra era o chamado mar Éneo (2), fabricado antes de espelhos, e para espelho dos que nele se fossem ver e compor. Quis pois o mais sábio de todos os homens, que na mesma traça, disposição e ordem da fábrica, vissem e reconhecessem todos, que não há não pode haver neste Mundo coisa alguma tão sólida, tão forte, tão firme, nem ainda tão santa (qual aquela era), que, como se estivera fundada sobre rodas, não esteja sempre sujeita às voltas, declinações e mudanças de qualquer impulso, impressão ou movimento contrário. Tudo o que se diz da Fortuna, e seus poderes, é fingido e falso; só uma coisa há nela certa e verdadeira, que é a roda. E para que nos vamos chegando ao nosso caso, deixados os vidros e bronzes, que são nomes metafóricos, falemos agora com o próprio do homem, e de todas as coisas humanas, que é o barro. Mandou Deus Nosso Senhor ao profeta Jeremias, que fosse à oficina de um oleiro, e que depois de ver o que aquele homem fazia, lhe declararia o por que lá o mandava. Foi o profeta, e diz que achou o oleiro trabalhando sobre a sua roda: Et ecce ipse faciebat opus super rotam (Jerom. XVIII—3). E notando então com particular advertência o que fazia, viu que ao princípio estava formando um vaso muito polido, o qual, como se lhe descompusesse e desmanchasse entre as mãos, desfê-lo, e, como irado contra ele, tornou a amassar e pôr na roda o mesmo barro, e fez outro vaso muito diferente, como lhe veio à fantasia. Aqui falou então Deus ao profeta, e lhe disse desta maneira:—Assim como o oleiro tem nas suas mãos o barro, e dele faz uns vasos e desfaz outros; assim tenho eu nas minhas mãos o Mundo, e posso desfazer uns reinos e fazer outros ao meu arbítrio. E se ele com a ponta de um pé dá estas voltas a sua roda, julga tu, se o poderei fazer eu. Vai a Jerusalém, conta-lhe o que viste e dize-lhe que o primeiro vaso tão polido que o oleiro fazia, é o reino de Israel, tão amado e favorecido da minha providência, o qual com a sua rebeldia se me descompõe entre as mãos; e que ainda estou aparelhado para lhe perdoar e arrepender do que tenho determinado; mas que se ele se não quiser emendar, darei volta à roda, e do mesmo barro farei outro vaso. Jerusalém passará para Babilônia, e o reino, que aqui é de El-Rei Joaquim com liberdade, lá será de Nabucodonosor com perpétuo cativeiro. E assim foi. Oh que facilmente se engana o juízo humano nas apreensões de qualquer sucesso próspero? Por isso disse sábia e prudentissimamente o grande senador romano, Severino Boécio, que melhor e mais útil é ao homem a fortuna adversa, que a próspera: Plus reor hominibus adversam, quam prosperam prodesse fortunam (I). E dá a razão; porque a próspera mente e a adversa desengana: Illa enim semper specie felicitatis, cum videtur b1anda, mentitur; hæc semper vera est, cum se instabilem mutatione demonstrat. Illa fallit, hæc instruit. Quem se não quiser enganar com as lisonjas da Fortuna próspera, olhe para a roda. Nela, e do mesmo barro faz Deus reinos e desfaz reinos; desfaz Jerusaléns e acrescenta Babilônias; cativa os livres e restitui a liberdade aos cativos. Assim o fez a benignidade divina, dando outra volta à roda, e restituindo os cativos de Babilônia a liberdade, de que poucos já se lembravam, no fim de setenta anos: caso bem parecido ao nosso.

Lá, depois de setenta anos; cá, depois de sessenta, uns e outros profetizados: mas nem por isso cuide alguém, que para todas estas voltas da roda são necessários tantos espaços ou tantos vagares do tempo. As rodas do carro de Ezequiel, em que Deus se lhe mostrou governando todo este Mundo, eram cada uma composta de duas, uma roda atravessada e outra cruzada com ela pelo meio. Isso quer dizer: Rota in medio rotæ (Ezeq. X—10). E que rodas eram e são estas?—Uma é a roda da Fortuna, outra a roda do Tempo. Mas de taI maneira unidas e travadas entre si, e tão independentes uma do curso da outra, que para a roda do Fortuna dar uma volta inteira, não é necessário que a de também inteira o Tempo. As voltas da roda do Tempo são as mesmas que as do Sol. O Sol dá uma volta maior cada ano, e uma maior cada dia. Porém, para a Fortuna dar uma volta inteira aos maiores impérios não são necessários anos nem dias.

O maior império e monarquia que tinha havido no Mundo, era a dos assírios e caldeus. E quantas horas houve mister a roda da Fortuna para derribar esta e levantar sobre ela outra maior? Diga-o a Escritura Sagrada por boca de Daniel, que se achou presente: Eadem nocte intrfectus est Baltassar rex chaldæus, et Darius Medus successit in regnum (Dan. V—3º e 3^I): Na mesma noite fatal em que o rei com mil magnates da sua monarquia, convidados para um solene banquete, estavam brindando aos seus deuses, foi morto—diz Daniel—Baltazar, rei caldeu, e lhe sucedeu no império Dario medo. De sorte que tanto mais depressa deu volta a roda da Fortuna que a roda do Tempo, que, não tendo o Tempo em ausência do Sol andado um dia natural, nem meio dia, a Fortuna, morto Baltazar e sucedendo-lhe na coroa Dario, já tinha posto por terra a monarquia dos assírios e caldeus, e levantado até as nuvens a dos persas e medos.

Caiu a monarquia, mas não caiu a corte; porque ficaram em pé os famosos muros de Babilônia, com os seus jardins cultivados no ar, por isso chamados hortos pensiles; onde, porém, até as flores não escaparam de ficar tristemente murchas e secas, servindo a mãos estranhas, que as não tinham regado. E para que alguém não imagine da roda da Fortuna, que, não perdoando às coroas, ao menos dá quartel às pedras; passando do maior império da Ásia à melhor cidade da Europa, ouçamos em outra coisa não menos trágica, quão precipitada é a sua volta também em estas ruínas.

Fala Sêneca da antiga Lugduno (I), que anoitecendo cidade, amanheceu cinza, e escreve assim:Tot pulcherrima opera, quæ singula illustrare urbes singulas possent, una nox stravit. Et in tanta pace, quantum ne bello quidem timeri potest, accidit. Quis credat? Lugdunum, quod ostendebatur in Gallia, quæritur. Omnibus fortuna, quos publice affixit, quod passuri erant, timere permisit. Nulla res magna non aliquod habuit ruinæ suæ spatium. In hac una nox interfuit inter urbem maximum, et nullam. Denique diutius illam periisse, quam periit, narro (Sénec. Epist.). É lástima haver de afrontar com a tradução de qualquer outra língua a elegância destas palavras. "Aqueles famosos edifícios—diz Sêneca—que cada um deles pudera enobrecer e ilustrar uma cidade, todos igualou com a terra uma noite; e aconteceu na bela paz, o que nem da mais furiosa guerra se pudera temer. Quem tal crera? Aquela Lugduno, que se mostrava por maravilha na Gália, busca-se nela, e não se acha. A todos os que a Fortuna afligiu publicamente, permitiu que temessem o que haviam de padecer, e a nenhum coisa grande deixou de dar o tempo algum espaço à sua própria ruína. Só nesta, entre a cidade máxima e o nada, não houve mais que uma noite. Ainda acabou mais depressa do que eu o escrevo". Atequi a narração e ponderação do grande filósofo. E como para as maiores voltas e mudanças da roda da Fortuna não são necessários anos, nem dias inteiros, e da ametade de um dia sobejam ainda horas e essas as mais ocultas à vista; que segurança pode haver tão confiada, que entre os abraços mais lisonjeiros da felicidade não tema os seus reveses? E que reino ou república, que rei ou capitão prudente, que entre os maiores triunfos lhe não esteja sempre batendo às portas do coração aquela voz duvidosa: Ne forte?

TODOS SE TRATAVAM POR CAMARADA E POR TU ...NINGUÉM USAVA O SEÑOR DON OU USTED E DIZIAM SALUD EM VEZ DE BUEÑOS DIAS ...A small but significant instance of the way in which everything was now

I had thought it a town
where class distinctions and great differences of wealth hardly existed.
Certainly that was what it looked like. 'Smart' clothes were an
abnormality, nobody cringed or took tips, 

waiters and flower-women and bootblacks looked you in the eye and called you 'comrade'.
I had not grasped that this was mainly a mixture of hope and camouflage. The working class believed in a revolution that had been begun but never consolidated, and the bourgeoisie were scared and temporarily disguising themselves as workers. In the first months of revolution there must have been many thousands of people who deliberately put on overalls and shouted revolutionary slogans as a way of saving their skins. Now things were returning to normal. The smart restaurants and hotels were full of rich people wolfing expensive meals, while for the working-class population food-prices had jumped enormously without any corresponding rise in wages. Apart from the expensiveness of everything, there were recurrent shortages of this and that, which, of course, always hit the poor rather than the rich. The restaurants and hotels seemed to have little difficulty in getting whatever they wanted, but in the working-class quarters the queues for bread, olive oil, and other necessaries were hundreds of yards long. Previously in Barcelona I had been struck by the absence of beggars; now there were quantities of them. Outside the delicatessen shop at the top of the Ramblas gangs of barefooted children were always waiting to swarm round anyone who came out and clamour for scraps of food. The 'revolutionary' forms of speech were dropping out of use. Strangers seldom addressed you as _tú_ and _camarada_ nowadays; it was usually _señor_ and _usted_. _Buenos días_ was beginning to replace _salud_. The waiters were back in their boiled shirts and the shop-walkers were cringing in the familiar manner. My wife and I went into a hosiery shop on the Ramblas to buy some stockings. The shopman bowed and rubbed his hands as they do not do even in England nowadays, though they used to do it twenty or thirty years ago. In a furtive indirect way the practice of tipping was coming back. The workers' patrols had been ordered to dissolve and the pre-war police forces were back on the streets. One result of this was that the cabaret show and high-class brothels, many of which had been closed by the workers' patrols, had promptly reopened.*

A small but significant instance of the way in which everything was now
orientated in favour of the wealthier classes could be seen in the
tobacco shortage. For the mass of the people the shortage of tobacco was
so desperate that cigarettes filled with sliced liquorice-root were
being sold in the streets. I tried some of these once. (A lot of people
tried them once.) Franco held the Canaries, where all the Spanish
tobacco is grown; consequently the only stocks of tobacco left on the
Government side were those that had been in existence before the war.
These were running so low that the tobacconists' shops only opened once
a week; after waiting for a couple of hours in a queue you might, if you
were lucky, get a three-quarter-ounce packet of tobacco. Theoretically
the Government would not allow tobacco to be purchased from abroad,
because this meant reducing the gold-reserves, which had got to be kept
for arms and other necessities. Actually there was a steady supply of
smuggled foreign cigarettes of the more expensive kinds, Lucky Strikes
and so forth, which gave a grand opportunity for profiteering. You could
buy the smuggled cigarettes openly in the smart hotels and hardly less
openly in the streets, provided that you could pay ten pesetas (a
militiaman's daily wage) for a packet. The smuggling was for the benefit
of wealthy people, and was therefore connived at. If you had enough
money there was nothing that you could not get in any quantity, with the
possible exception of bread, which was rationed fairly strictly. This
open contrast of wealth and poverty would have been impossible a few
months earlier, when the working class still were or seemed to be in
control. But it would not be fair to attribute it solely to the shift of
political power. Partly it was a result of the safety of life in
Barcelona, where there was little to remind one of the war except an
occasional air-raid. Everyone who had been in Madrid said that it was
completely different there. In Madrid the common danger forced people of
almost all kinds into some sense of comradeship. A fat man eating quails
while children are begging for bread is a disgusting sight, but you are
less likely to see it when you are within sound of the guns

But let your song grow drunk with wine Where mystic unions vaguely shine In luminous and errant ways. Like veilèd eyes your song should BEE...SAMANTHA FOXTHE ARAB HOUSE WAS REBORN NO ROSES, NO HEADS, NO WINE NO PEEPING IN, NO SCORN NO PORKY PIG, NO EVIL VINE I REMEMBER I REMEMBER THE RISE OF THE WAHHABI EMPIRE DARK AND HIGH AGAINST THE SKY THEY CRUSH THE FLOWERS IN THE SHIRE AND THEY NOT LEND,THEY DONT BUY AND FARE THY WHEEL A WHILE WHILE THE SANDS RUN THE LAST MILE WHEN THE WINDS CAST A FAST SMILE THAT'S' NOT DEMOCRACY THAT SPRINGS AND ONLY DEAD MEN AND DEMONS SINGS WHEN ANGELS SPREAD THEIR WINGS THE WAHHABI EMPIRE IS RISING THEY DEARLY DISLIKE THE WEST AND THIS IS THE ARAB SPRING THE LASSIE YOU LOVE BEST

UMA CULTURA QUE NÃO RECONHECE

A LEGITIMIDADE DO JURO 

MAS RECONHECE VALORES MONETÁRIOS

É UMA CULTURA QUE NECESSITA 

DE SE TORNAR ESTÁTICA 

POIS A INFLAÇÃO É MORTAL NUMA 

CULTURA DESTAS 

TRÊS TIPOS DE BENS TEM O ESTADO 

ISLÂMICO

OS ESSENCIAIS CASA COMIDA E BALAS

HOUSE FOOD AND 

DON'T SPARE THE AMMO 

OS DE PRESTÍGIO 

SEX SLAVES AND VIRGINS FROM HEAVEN

E OBVIAMENTE ADMITO-O 

SAND DOLLARS 

When I found that this mustang was clerking in a fruit establishment (he had the establishment along with him in a basket,) at two cents a day, and that he had no palace at home where he lived, I lost some of my enthusiasm concerning the happiness of living in Italy. p319.jpg (20K) This naturally suggests to me a thought about wages here. Lieutenants in the army get about a dollar a day, and common soldiers a couple of cents. I only know one clerk--he gets four dollars a month. Printers get six dollars and a half a month, but I have heard of a foreman who gets thirteen. To be growing suddenly and violently rich, as this man is, naturally makes him a bloated aristocrat. The airs he puts on are insufferable. And, speaking of wages, reminds me of prices of merchandise. In Paris you pay twelve dollars a dozen for Jouvin's best kid gloves; gloves of about as good quality sell here at three or four dollars a dozen. You pay five and six dollars apiece for fine linen shirts in Paris; here and in Leghorn you pay two and a half. In Marseilles you pay forty dollars for a first-class dress coat made by a good tailor, but in Leghorn you can get a full dress suit for the same money. Here you get handsome business suits at from ten to twenty dollars, and in Leghorn you can get an overcoat for fifteen dollars that would cost you seventy in New York. Fine kid boots are worth eight dollars in Marseilles and four dollars here. Lyons velvets rank higher in America than those of Genoa. Yet the bulk of Lyons velvets you buy in the States are made in Genoa and imported into Lyons, where they receive the Lyons stamp and are then exported to America. You can buy enough velvet in Genoa for twenty-five dollars to make a five hundred dollar cloak in New York--so the ladies tell me. Of course these things bring me back, by a natural and easy transition, to the ASCENT OF VESUVIUS--CONTINUED. And thus the wonderful Blue Grotto is suggested to me. It is situated on the Island of Capri, twenty-two miles from Naples. p320.jpg (40K) We chartered a little steamer and went out there. Of course, the police boarded us and put us through a health examination, and inquired into our politics, before they would let us land. The airs these little insect Governments put on are in the last degree ridiculous. They even put a policeman on board of our boat to keep an eye on us as long as we were in the Capri dominions. They thought we wanted to steal the grotto, I suppose. It was worth stealing. The entrance to the cave is four feet high and four feet wide, and is in the face of a lofty perpendicular cliff--the sea-wall. You enter in small boats--and a tight squeeze it is, too. You can not go in at all when the tide is up. Once within, you find yourself in an arched cavern about one hundred and sixty feet long, one hundred and twenty wide, and about seventy high. How deep it is no man knows. It goes down to the bottom of the ocean. p321.jpg (37K) The waters of this placid subterranean lake are the brightest, loveliest blue that can be imagined. They are as transparent as plate glass, and their coloring would shame the richest sky that ever bent over Italy. No tint could be more ravishing, no lustre more superb. Throw a stone into the water, and the myriad of tiny bubbles that are created flash out a brilliant glare like blue theatrical fires. Dip an oar, and its blade turns to splendid frosted silver, tinted with blue. Let a man jump in, and instantly he is cased in an armor more gorgeous than ever kingly Crusader wore. Then we went to Ischia, but I had already been to that island and tired myself to death "resting" a couple of days and studying human villainy, with the landlord of the Grande Sentinelle for a model. So we went to Procida, and from thence to Pozzuoli, where St. Paul landed after he sailed from Samos. I landed at precisely the same spot where St. Paul landed, and so did Dan and the others. It was a remarkable coincidence. St. Paul preached to these people seven days before he started to Rome. Nero's Baths, the ruins of Baiae, the Temple of Serapis; Cumae, where the Cumaen Sybil interpreted the oracles, the Lake Agnano, with its ancient submerged city still visible far down in its depths--these and a hundred other points of interest we examined with critical imbecility, but the Grotto of the Dog claimed our chief attention, because we had heard and read so much about it. Every body has written about the Grotto del Cane and its poisonous vapors, from Pliny down to Smith, and every tourist has held a dog over its floor by the legs to test the capabilities of the place. The dog dies in a minute and a half--a chicken instantly. As a general thing, strangers who crawl in there to sleep do not get up until they are called. And then they don't either. The stranger that ventures to sleep there takes a permanent contract. I longed to see this grotto. I resolved to take a dog and hold him myself; suffocate him a little, and time him; suffocate him some more and then finish him. We reached the grotto at about three in the afternoon, and proceeded at once to make the experiments. But now, an important difficulty presented itself. We had no dog. ASCENT OF VESUVIUS--CONTINUED. At the Hermitage we were about fifteen or eighteen hundred feet above the sea, and thus far a portion of the ascent had been pretty abrupt. For the next two miles the road was a mixture--sometimes the ascent was abrupt and sometimes it was not: but one characteristic it possessed all the time, without failure--without modification--it was all uncompromisingly and unspeakably infamous. It was a rough, narrow trail, and led over an old lava flow--a black ocean which was tumbled into a thousand fantastic shapes--a wild chaos of ruin, desolation, and barrenness--a wilderness of billowy upheavals, of furious whirlpools, of miniature mountains rent asunder--of gnarled and knotted, wrinkled and twisted masses of blackness that mimicked branching roots, great vines, trunks of trees, all interlaced and mingled together: and all these weird shapes, all this turbulent panorama, all this stormy, far-stretching waste of blackness, with its thrilling suggestiveness of life, of action, of boiling, surging, furious motion, was petrified!--all stricken dead and cold in the instant of its maddest rioting!--fettered, paralyzed, and left to glower at heaven in impotent rage for evermore! Finally we stood in a level, narrow valley (a valley that had been created by the terrific march of some old time irruption) and on either hand towered the two steep peaks of Vesuvius. The one we had to climb--the one that contains the active volcano--seemed about eight hundred or one thousand feet high, and looked almost too straight-up-and-down for any man to climb, and certainly no mule could climb it with a man on his back. Four of these native pirates will carry you to the top in a sedan chair, if you wish it, but suppose they were to slip and let you fall,--is it likely that you would ever stop rolling? Not this side of eternity, perhaps. We left the mules, sharpened our finger-nails, and began the ascent I have been writing about so long, at twenty minutes to six in the morning. The path led straight up a rugged sweep of loose chunks of pumice-stone, and for about every two steps forward we took, we slid back one. It was so excessively steep that we had to stop, every fifty or sixty steps, and rest a moment. To see our comrades, we had to look very nearly straight up at those above us, and very nearly straight down at those below. We stood on the summit at last--it had taken an hour and fifteen minutes to make the trip. What we saw there was simply a circular crater--a circular ditch, if you please--about two hundred feet deep, and four or five hundred feet wide, whose inner wall was about half a mile in circumference. In the centre of the great circus ring thus formed, was a torn and ragged upheaval a hundred feet high, all snowed over with a sulphur crust of many and many a brilliant and beautiful color, and the ditch inclosed this like the moat of a castle, or surrounded it as a little river does a little island, if the simile is better. The sulphur coating of that island was gaudy in the extreme--all mingled together in the richest confusion were red, blue, brown, black, yellow, white--I do not know that there was a color, or shade of a color, or combination of colors, unrepresented--and when the sun burst through the morning mists and fired this tinted magnificence, it topped imperial Vesuvius like a jeweled crown! The crater itself--the ditch--was not so variegated in coloring, but yet, in its softness, richness, and unpretentious elegance, it was more charming, more fascinating to the eye. There was nothing "loud" about its well-bred and well-creased look. Beautiful? One could stand and look down upon it for a week without getting tired of it. It had the semblance of a pleasant meadow, whose slender grasses and whose velvety mosses were frosted with a shining dust, and tinted with palest green that deepened gradually to the darkest hue of the orange leaf, and deepened yet again into gravest brown, then faded into orange, then into brightest gold, and culminated in the delicate pink of a new-blown rose. Where portions of the meadow had sunk, and where other portions had been broken up like an ice-floe, the cavernous openings of the one, and the ragged upturned edges exposed by the other, were hung with a lace-work of soft-tinted crystals of sulphur that changed their deformities into quaint shapes and figures that were full of grace and beauty. The walls of the ditch were brilliant with yellow banks of sulphur and with lava and pumice-stone of many colors. No fire was visible any where, but gusts of sulphurous steam issued silently and invisibly from a thousand little cracks and fissures in the crater, and were wafted to our noses with every breeze. But so long as we kept our nostrils buried in our handkerchiefs, there was small danger of suffocation. Some of the boys thrust long slips of paper down into holes and set them on fire, and so achieved the glory of lighting their cigars by the flames of Vesuvius, and others cooked eggs over fissures in the rocks and were happy. The view from the summit would have been superb but for the fact that the sun could only pierce the mists at long intervals. Thus the glimpses we had of the grand panorama below were only fitful and unsatisfactory.

Every man shrunk up and disappeared in his clothes like a mud-turtle. My first impulse was to dash forward and destroy the Bedouins. My second was to dash to the rear to see if there were any coming in that direction. I acted on the latter impulse. So did all the others. If any Bedouins had approached us, then, from that point of the compass, they would have paid dearly for their rashness. We all remarked that, afterwards. There would have been scenes of riot and bloodshed there that no pen could describe. I know that, because each man told what he would have done, individually; and such a medley of strange and unheard-of inventions of cruelty you could not conceive of. One man said he had calmly made up his mind to perish where he stood, if need be, but never yield an inch; he was going to wait, with deadly patience, till he could count the stripes upon the first Bedouin's jacket, and then count them and let him have it. Another was going to sit still till the first lance reached within an inch of his breast, and then dodge it and seize it. I forbear to tell what he was going to do to that Bedouin that owned it. It makes my blood run cold to think of it. Another was going to scalp such Bedouins as fell to his share, and take his bald-headed sons of the desert home with him alive for trophies. But the wild-eyed pilgrim rhapsodist was silent. His orbs gleamed with a deadly light, but his lips moved not. Anxiety grew, and he was questioned. If he had got a Bedouin, what would he have done with him—shot him? He smiled a smile of grim contempt and shook his head. Would he have stabbed him? Another shake. Would he have quartered him—flayed him? More shakes. Oh! horror what would he have done?
"Eat him!"
Such was the awful sentence that thundered from his lips. What was grammar to a desperado like that? I was glad in my heart that I had been spared these scenes of malignant carnage. No Bedouins attacked our terrible rear. And none attacked the front. The new-comers were only a reinforcement of cadaverous Arabs, in shirts and bare legs, sent far ahead of us to brandish rusty guns, and shout and brag, and carry on like lunatics, and thus scare away all bands of marauding Bedouins that might lurk about our path. What a shame it is that armed white Christians must travel under guard of vermin like this as a protection against the prowling vagabonds of the desert—those sanguinary outlaws who are always going to do something desperate, but never do it. I may as well mention here that on our whole trip we saw no Bedouins, and had no more use for an Arab guard than we could have had for patent leather boots and white kid gloves. The Bedouins that attacked the other parties of pilgrims so fiercely were provided for the occasion by the Arab guards of those parties, and shipped from Jerusalem for temporary service as Bedouins. They met together in full view of the pilgrims, after the battle, and took lunch, divided the bucksheesh extorted in the season of danger, and then accompanied the cavalcade home to the city! The nuisance of an Arab guard is one which is created by the Sheiks and the Bedouins together, for mutual profit, it is said, and no doubt there is a good deal of truth in it.
We visited the fountain the prophet Elisha sweetened (it is sweet yet,) where he remained some time and was fed by the ravens.
Ancient Jericho is not very picturesque as a ruin. When Joshua marched around it seven times, some three thousand years ago, and blew it down with his trumpet, he did the work so well and so completely that he hardly left enough of the city to cast a shadow. The curse pronounced against the rebuilding of it, has never been removed. One King, holding the curse in light estimation, made the attempt, but was stricken sorely for his presumption. Its site will always remain unoccupied; and yet it is one of the very best locations for a town we have seen in all Palestine.
At two in the morning they routed us out of bed—another piece of unwarranted cruelty—another stupid effort of our dragoman to get ahead of a rival. It was not two hours to the Jordan. However, we were dressed and under way before any one thought of looking to see what time it was, and so we drowsed on through the chill night air and dreamed of camp fires, warm beds, and other comfortable things.
There was no conversation. People do not talk when they are cold, and wretched, and sleepy. We nodded in the saddle, at times, and woke up with a start to find that the procession had disappeared in the gloom. Then there was energy and attention to business until its dusky outlines came in sight again. Occasionally the order was passed in a low voice down the line: "Close up—close up! Bedouins lurk here, every where!" What an exquisite shudder it sent shivering along one's spine!
We reached the famous river before four o'clock, and the night was so black that we could have ridden into it without seeing it. Some of us were in an unhappy frame of mind. We waited and waited for daylight, but it did not come. Finally we went away in the dark and slept an hour on the ground, in the bushes, and caught cold. It was a costly nap, on that account, but otherwise it was a paying investment because it brought unconsciousness of the dreary minutes and put us in a somewhat fitter mood for a first glimpse of the sacred river.
With the first suspicion of dawn, every pilgrim took off his clothes and waded into the dark torrent, singing:

"On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,
And cast a wistful eye
To Canaan's fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie."

But they did not sing long. The water was so fearfully cold that they were obliged to stop singing and scamper out again. Then they stood on the bank shivering, and so chagrined and so grieved, that they merited holiest compassion. Because another dream, another cherished hope, had failed. They had promised themselves all along that they would cross the Jordan where the Israelites crossed it when they entered Canaan from their long pilgrimage in the desert. They would cross where the twelve stones were placed in memory of that great event. While they did it they would picture to themselves that vast army of pilgrims marching through the cloven waters, bearing the hallowed ark of the covenant and shouting hosannahs, and singing songs of thanksgiving and praise. Each had promised himself that he would be the first to cross. They were at the goal of their hopes at last, but the current was too swift, the water was too cold!
It was then that Jack did them a service. With that engaging recklessness of consequences which is natural to youth, and so proper and so seemly, as well, he went and led the way across the Jordan, and all was happiness again. Every individual waded over, then, and stood upon the further bank. The water was not quite breast deep, any where. If it had been more, we could hardly have accomplished the feat, for the strong current would have swept us down the stream, and we would have been exhausted and drowned before reaching a place where we could make a landing. The main object compassed, the drooping, miserable party sat down to wait for the sun again, for all wanted to see the water as well as feel it. But it was too cold a pastime. Some cans were filled from the holy river, some canes cut from its banks, and then we mounted and rode reluctantly away to keep from freezing to death. So we saw the Jordan very dimly. The thickets of bushes that bordered its banks threw their shadows across its shallow, turbulent waters ("stormy," the hymn makes them, which is rather a complimentary stretch of fancy,) and we could not judge of the width of the stream by the eye. We knew by our wading experience, however, that many streets in America are double as wide as the Jordan.
Daylight came, soon after we got under way, and in the course of an hour or two we reached the Dead Sea. Nothing grows in the flat, burning desert around it but weeds and the Dead Sea apple the poets say is beautiful to the eye, but crumbles to ashes and dust when you break it. Such as we found were not handsome, but they were bitter to the taste. They yielded no dust. It was because they were not ripe, perhaps.

Yet the school of Turkish politics was so ignoble that not even the best could graduate from it unaffected. Hussein when young had been honest, outspoken . . . and he learned not merely to suppress his speech, but to use speech to conceal his honest purpose. The art, over-indulged, became a vice from which he could not free himself. In old age ambiguity covered his every communication. Lake a cloud it hid his decision of character, his worldly wisdom, his cheerful strength. Many denied HIM such qualities: but history gave proof.

One instance of his worldly wisdom was the upbringing of his sons. The
Sultan had made them live in Constantinople to receive a Turkish
education. Sherif Hussein saw to it that the education was general and
good. When they came back to the Hejaz as young effendis in European
clothes with Turkish manners, the father ordered them into Arab dress;
and, to rub up their Arabic, gave them Meccan companions and sent them
out into the wilds, with the Camel Corps, to patrol the pilgrim roads.

The young men thought it might be an amusing trip, but were dashed when
their father forbade them special food, bedding, or soft-padded
saddles. He would not let them back to Mecca, but kept them out for
months in all seasons guarding the roads by day and by night, handling
every variety of man, and learning fresh methods of riding and
fighting. Soon they hardened, and became self-reliant, with that blend
of native intelligence and vigour which so often comes in a crossed
stock. Their formidable family group was admired and efficient, but
curiously isolated in their world. They were natives of no country,
lovers of no private plot of ground. They had no real confidants or
ministers; and no one of them seemed open to another, or to the father,
of whom they stood in awe.

The debate after supper was an animated one. In my character as a
Syrian I made sympathetic reference to the Arab leaders who had been
executed in Damascus by Jemal Pasha. They took me up sharply: the
published papers had disclosed that these men were in touch with
foreign Governments, and ready to accept French or British suzerainty
as the price of help. This was a crime against Arab nationality, and
Jemal had only executed the implied sentence. Feisal smiled, almost
winked, at me. 'You see,' he explained, 'we are now of necessity tied
to the British. We are delighted to be their friends, grateful for
their help, expectant of our future profit. But we are not British
subjects. We would be more at ease if they were not such
disproportionate allies.'

I told a story of Abdulla el Raashid, on the way up to Hamra. He had
groaned to me of the British sailors coming ashore each day at Rabegh.
'Soon they will stay nights, and then they will live here always, and
take the country.' To cheer him I had spoken of millions of Englishmen
now ashore in France, and of the French not afraid.

Whereat he had turned on me scornfully, asking if I meant to compare
France with the land of Hejazi?

Feisal mused a little and said, I am not a Hejazi by upbringing; and
yet, by God, I am jealous for it. And though I know the British do not
want it, yet what can I say, when they took the Sudan, also not wanting
it? They hunger for desolate lands, to build them up; and so, perhaps,
one day Arabia will seem to them precious. Your good and my good,
perhaps they are different, and either forced good or forced evil will
make a people cry with pain. Does the ore admire the flame which
transforms it? There is no reason for offence, but a people too weak
are clamant over their little own. Our race will have a cripple's
temper till it has found its feet.'

The ragged, lousy tribesmen who had eaten with us astonished me by
their familiar understanding of intense political nationality, an
abstract idea they could hardly have caught from the educated classes
of the Hejaz towns, from those Hindus, Javanese, Bokhariots, Sudanese,
Turks, out of sympathy with Arab ideals, and indeed just then suffering
A little from the force of local sentiment, springing too high after
its sudden escape from Turkish control. Sherif Hussein had had the
worldly wisdom to base his precepts on the instinctive belief of the
Arabs that they were of the salt of the earth and self-sufficient.
Then, enabled by his alliance with us to back his doctrine by arms and
money, he was assured of success.

Of course, this success was not level throughout. The great body of
Sherifs, eight hundred or nine hundred of them, understood his
nationalist doctrine and were his missionaries, successful missionaries
thanks to the revered descent from the Prophet, which gave them the
power to hold men's minds, and to direct their courses into the willing
quietness of eventual obedience.

The tribes had followed the smoke of their racial fanaticism. The towns
might sigh for the cloying inactivity of Ottoman rule: the tribes were
convinced that they had made a free and Arab Government, and that each
of them was It. They were independent and would enjoy themselves--a
conviction and resolution which might have led to anarchy, if they had
not made more stringent the family tie, and the bonds of
kin-responsibility. But this entailed a negation of central power. The
Sherif might have legal sovereignty abroad, if he hiked the high-sounding
toy; but home affairs were to be customary. The problem of the
foreign theorists--Is Damascus to rule the Hejaz, or can Hejaz rule
Damascus?' did not trouble them at all, for they would not have it set.
The Semites' idea of nationality was the independence of clans and
villages, and their ideal of national union was episodic combined
resistance to an intruder. Constructive policies, an organized state,
an extended empire, were not so much beyond their sight as hateful in
it. They were fighting to get rid of Empire, not to win it.

The feeling of the Syrians and Mesopotamians in these Arab armies was
indirect. They believed that by fighting in the local ranks, even here
in Hejaz, they were vindicating the general rights of all Arabs to
national existence; and without envisaging one State, or even a
confederation of States, they were definitely looking northward,
wishing to add an autonomous Damascus and Bagdad to the Arab family.
They were weak in material resources, and even after success would be,
since their world was agricultural and pastoral, without minerals, and
could never be strong in modern armaments. Were it otherwise, we should
have had to pause before evoking in the strategic centre of the Middle
East new national movements of such abounding vigour.

Of religious fanaticism there was little trace. 

The Sherif refused in
round terms to give a religious twist to his rebellion.

 His fighting creed was nationality. 

The tribes knew that the Turks were Moslems, and
thought that the Germans were probably true friends of Islam. 

They knew that the British were Christians, and that the British were their
allies. In the circumstances, their religion would not have been of
much help to them, and they had put it aside. 'Christian fights
Christian, so why should not Mohammedans do the same? 

What we want is a
Government which speaks our own language of Arabic and will let us live
in peace.

 Also we hate those Turks.'

PORNO POEMA NA PORTA DOS FUNDOS PROFUNDOS QUE A TERRA TREMA NO VULVÁRIO QUE É BERÇÁRIO ORIGINÁRIO É UM POUCO ORDINÁRIO?PORNO POEMA NA ZINCADA NAU CATRINETA ONDE TAL É A FOME QUE ATÉ SE COME A NETA É UM PORNO POEMA MANETA EM QUE A TERRA TREME ATÉ QUE PROMETEU SE NÃO METEU QUE O META COM A CANHOTA OU SE É IDIOTA QUE DÊ A MÃO MAS NÃO PROMETA DIREITO DE PERNADA BEM DADA A PERNETA

e no abril SENIL a terra tremeu ó TESEU..... PROMETEU COM A ESQUERDA METEU COM A DIREITA E ...PROMETEU ATÉ DEU E QUE A TERRA TREMA NO TEU PORNO POEMA ,,,NA LISTA M TEM MANAS COM MAMAS E NO TAU TAU GREGO TU TE IRMANAS Ó CABRAL BRUTAL DAS ARRIFANAS ....NUNCA TENTARÁS A ESQUERDA É PERFEITO NÃO LHE DÁ MUITO JEITO JÁ COM A DIREITA VEM CÁ MEU BEM A DIREITA LHE ASSENTA BEM TAMBÉM OU DIREITO NA DIREITA SE ASSENTA BEM NINGUÉM ? TODO O MUNDO ACHA NORMAL QUE NA DIREITA SE FAÇA A MASTURMAÇÃO PERFEITA ESCORREITA ...FAZER PUNHETA SOCIALISTA NA GAVETA ATÉ PODE SER PORRETA ....É QUESTÃO DE APRENDER ..A FODER SEM FEDER

Vinho Rrn Kkkkkk

•  vinho? tem nome de cachaça não?

  
  
• 

  Vinho Rrn Kkkkk msm nome que o seu
• Álvaro Sêguro da Costa ué eu não sou pedido em restaurante moço

  
  

  Álvaro Sêguro da Costa em boteco aqui não se pede um copo de seguro nem uma caneca de costa nem um canjirão de álvaro né ....seu canibal... afinal seu vôvô comeu o meu ...e se fodeu o meu era judeu ...esta é repetida no estado islâmico não decapite vinho ...
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