Tem uns cara que falam em 4 linhas o que eu não consigo falar em uma vida inteira...
comentada em 19/03/2026 14:41

I see friends shaking hands 
Saying: how do tou do?
They're really saying:
I love you

Essa canção me faz chorar

postado por @buttler em 19/03/2026 09:01

I see friends shaking hands 
Saying: how do tou do?
They're really saying:
I love you

Essa canção me faz chorar

I hear babies cry
I watch them grow
They'll learn much more
Than I'll ever know

And I think to myself..

postado por @Charlito em 19/03/2026 09:14:17

I hear babies cry
I watch them grow
They'll learn much more
Than I'll ever know

And I think to myself..

What a wonderful world

the world is a beautiful place
                                          to be born into
               if you don’t much mind
                                                a few dead minds
                    in the higher places
                                                    or a bomb or two
                            now and then
                                                  in your upturned faces

Armstrong or
Lawrence Ferlinghetti 

Living Poetry: My Time with Lawrence Ferlinghetti in San Francisco

I saw the part of you
That only when you're older, you will see too
I held the better cards
But every stroke of luck has gotta bleed through
You held the balance of the time
That only blindly I could read you
It's like you told me
Go forward slowly
It's not a race to the end

postado por @Zuba em 19/03/2026 09:57

Essa semana achei interessante quando um professor citou um poema de Drummond, que nasceu e cresceu em Itabira-MG, saiu de lá pra seguir carreira e não voltou:

"Itabira é apenas uma fotografia na parede.
Mas como dói!"

caceta
q coisa espetacular
ate senti a dor aqui

the chains of habit are too weak to be felt
until they are too strong to be broken

Confidência do Itabirano

Alguns anos vivi em Itabira.
Principalmente nasci em Itabira.
Por isso sou triste, orgulhoso: de ferro.
Noventa por cento de ferro nas calçadas.
Oitenta por cento de ferro nas almas.
E esse alheamento do que na vida é porosidade e comunicação.
 
A vontade de amar, que me paralisa o trabalho,
vem de Itabira, de suas noites brancas, sem mulheres e sem horizontes.
E o hábito de sofrer, que tanto me diverte,
é doce herança itabirana.
 
De Itabira trouxe prendas diversas que ora te ofereço:
esta pedra de ferro, futuro aço do Brasil;
este São Benedito do velho santeiro Alfredo Duval;
este couro de anta, estendido no sofá da sala de visitas;
este orgulho, esta cabeça baixa…
 
Tive ouro, tive gado, tive fazendas.
Hoje sou funcionário público.
Itabira é apenas uma fotografia na parede.
Mas como dói!

I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside
I find it all so amusing

My way - Sinatra ou Elvis

If you can keep your head when all about you   
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;   
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
 
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;   
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
 
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
 
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
 
- Rudyard Kipling
 
Não é tão curto assim, mas vale a pena :)