House Of The Rising Sun
Woody Guthrie


Harvest Moon
Cassandra Wilson


Arcângelo Ianelli

Clique na imagem.

Click on the image.


5th Piano Concerto
Magda Tagliaferro



5th Piano Concerto
Magda Tagliaferro



Poemas 473
Poems 473


Walt Whitman

WHY! who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with my mother,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive, of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds—or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sun-down—or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite, delicate, thin curve of the new moon in spring;
Or whether I go among those I like best, and that like me best—mechanics, boatmen,farmers,
Or among the savans—or to the soiree—or to the opera,
Or stand a long while looking at the movements of machinery,
Or behold children at their sports,
Or the admirable sight of the perfect old man, or the perfect old woman,
Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial,
Or my own eyes and figure in the glass;
These, with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring—yet each distinct, and in its place.

To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same;
Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women, and all
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.

To me the sea is a continual miracle;
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships, with men
What stranger miracles are there?



Mario Benedetti


Mario Benedetti entrevistado por Telesur


Palabras Verdaderas
Homenaje a Mario Benedetti

Daniel Viglietti y Mario Benedetti interpretan Desaparecidos, Benedetti recita El olvido está lleno de memoria y el actor Miguel Angel Solá recita No te salves.

Com legendas em inglês.

With English subtitles.


No Te Salves
Mario Benedetti

No Te Salves

No te quedes inmóvil
al borde del camino
no congeles el júbilo
no quieras con desgana
no te salves ahora
ni nunca
no te salves
no te llenes de calma
no reserves del mundo
sólo un rincón tranquilo
no dejes caer los párpados
pesados como juicios
no te quedes sin labios
no te duermas sin sueño
no te pienses sin sangre
no te juzgues sin tiempo

pero si
pese a todo
no puedes evitarlo
y congelas el júbilo
y quieres con desgana
y te salvas ahora
y te llenas de calma
y reservas del mundo
sólo un rincón tranquilo
y dejas caer los párpados
pesados como juicios
y te secas sin labios
y te duermes sin sueño
y te piensas sin sangre
y te juzgas sin tiempo
y te quedas inmóvil
al borde del camino

y te salvas
no te quedes conmigo.

Hagamos un Trato

usted sabe
que puede contar
no hasta dos
o hasta diez
sino contar

Si alguna vez
que la miro a los ojos
y una veta de amor reconoce
en los míos
no alerte sus fusiles
ni piense qué delirio
a pesar de la veta
o tal vez porque existe
usted puede
contar conmigo.

Si otras veces
me encuentra
huraño sin motivo
no piense qué
igual puede contar conmigo.

Pero hagamos un trato
yo quisiera contar con usted
es tan lindo saber que usted existe
uno se siente vivo
y cuando digo esto
quiero decir contar
aunque sea hasta dos
aunque sea hasta cinco
no ya para que acuda
presurosa en mi auxilio
sino para saber a ciencia cierta
que usted sabe que puede contar



Conde Eberhard's Hawthorn
Count Eberhard's Hawthorn
Ludwig Uhland
Mostrar versus Dizer
Showing versus Saying

Texto apenas em inglês.
A tradução do poema para o português foi feita pelo Prof. Maurizio Ferrante.
The text in English only.
The translation of the poem into Portuguese was made by Prof. Maurizio Ferrante.

Count Eberhard's Hawthorn - Showing versus Saying

Must philosophy be put into words?

What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence. Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent. (TLP 7)
What cannot be spoken about = what cannot be put into words. But not, according to Wittgenstein (at least at one time), because there are no things that cannot be put into words. That there are things that cannot be put into words "shows itself; it is the mystical" (ibid. 6.522). On the other hand, Socrates held that if a man knew anything, he could give an account of it to others (Xen. Mem. iv, 6, 1). But, on the other hand, Socrates claimed not to know anything. But on the other hand, Wittgenstein claimed to know things that "cannot be put into words".
The following poem is, I believe, an example of Wittgenstein's "showing" rather than "saying". The deeper meaning -- the "symbolism", maybe -- of this poem "shows" itself although the author does not "say" [explicitly state] what its deeper meaning is, if he intended it to have one.

Count Eberhard's Hawthorn

Count Eberhard Rustle-Beard,
From Württemberg's fair land,
On holy errand steer'd
To Palestina's strand.

The while he slowly rode
Along a woodland way;
He cut from the hawthorn bush
A little fresh green spray.

Then in his iron helm
The little sprig he plac'd;
And bore it in the wars,
And over the ocean waste.

And when he reach'd his home;
He plac'd it in the earth;
Where little leaves and buds
The gentle Spring call'd forth.

He went each year to it,
The Count so brave and true;
And overjoy'd was he
To witness how it grew.

The Count was worn with age
The sprig became a tree;
'Neath which the old man oft
Would sit in reverie.

The branching arch so high,
Whose whisper is so bland,
Reminds him of the past
And Palestina's strand.

Ludwig Uhland (1787-1862). Translation by Alexander Platt, 1848; quoted by Engelmann in his Memoir of Wittgenstein, p. 83-84.

Conde Eberhard's Hawthorn

O conde Eberhard Rustle-Beard
Da bela região de Wurttemberg
Em santas andanças se foi
A caminho da Palestina

Em seu lento cavalgar
Na travessia de profundo bosque
De uma sebe de amoras quis cortar
Um pequeno, novo e verde galho

E logo, em seu elmo de ferro
O pequeno ramo ele ajeitou
E lá o manteve nas guerras
E através do aberto e vasto oceano

Alcançado o seu castelo
No solo ele o plantou;
E lá, pequenas folhas e brotos
A gentil primavera chamou

Todos os anos ali retornava,
O conde, tão valoroso e bom
Que tão radiante estava
De observar o seu crescer

Gasto pela idade estava o Conde
Quando em árvore o raminho se tornou
E sob a qual por tantas vezes
O velho se sentava a cismar

O arco dos galhos, tão alto
De sussurrar tão manso
Recordava-lhe o passado
E o caminho da Palestina

This poem made a deep impression on Paul Engelmann when he first read it, not for the beauty or depth of its lines taken singly, because taken singly they have neither. Instead, Urland's verses were simple, "tersely informative ... so that none of them, taken by itself, would cause delight. But the poem as a whole gives in 28 lines the picture of a life." The impression this made caused Engelmann to see that there is a "higher level of poetry and language" than he had been aware of before. When Engelmann sent a copy of this poem to Wittgenstein, the latter wrote back:
And this is how it is: if only you do not try to utter what is unutterable [das Unaussprechliche] then nothing gets lost. But the unutterable will be -- unutterably -- contained in what has been uttered! (Memoir p. 82-85 [4 September 1917 (Letter No. 6)])
There are indeed things that cannot be put into words [allerdings Unaussprechliches] [tr. Ogden: "There is indeed the inexpressible"]. They make themselves manifest [tr. Ogden: "This shows itself"]. (TLP 6.522, tr. Pears & McGuinness)
In art it is hard to say anything that is as good as: saying nothing. (CV (1998 rev. ed.) [MS 156a 57r: ca. 1932-1934])

How this Poem might be Read

This poem alludes to the Crusades to capture the Holy Land -- but I am actually guessing because I don't know that. What matters here is the general remark about how to read this poem as Wittgenstein would have read it. That is, regardless of what Count Eberhard went to "Palestina's strand" for, to read this poem as Wittgenstein did, you must set aside your own views about the Crusades (or whatever other event the poem may allude to). Because all that is important here is: how Count Eberhard saw things.
And in the count's eyes the hawthorn symbolized the bright ideal of his youth that he had remained faithful to throughout his life and now into his old age. That is the picture of a life that the poem shows us. That is the symbolism of the hawthorn, its deeper meaning, I think, but Wittgenstein at the time of the Tractatus would not have said this; -- not that he would have said it had some other meaning either: "if only you do not try to say what is unsayable then nothing gets lost." And indeed in my statement of the poem's deeper meaning, it does seem that a lot gets lost, namely the picture of the count's life.
Of course, that is not the only way the poem may be read, i.e. not the only meaning that can be given to the hawthorn; other, darker, readings are also possible (Engelmann was a Zionist). By not making the poem's deeper meaning explicit, Uhland left that possibility open. But whatever is taken for its deeper meaning, the poem is for Wittgenstein an example of "showing" rather than of "trying to say what cannot be said".



Betty Page


História do Rock & Roll
Rock & Roll History
Lucky Man
Emerson, Lake & Palmer


Os Anos 50
The 1950's


Waldir Azevedo


Isaac Rejeita Esau
Isaac Rejects Esau
c. 1288/92

Clique na imagem.

Click on the image.


The Impalas

Com legendas em inglês.

Wuth English subtitles.


F1 1950-2007



Marcia Ball


Astor Ball
Walter Sanders
Life Magazine

Clique na imagem.

Click on the image.


O Samba de Ataulfo Alves
Ataulfo Alves Júnior


El Mareo
Gustavo Ceratti

Avanzo y escribo
decido el camino
las ganas que quedan se marchan
con vos

Se apaga el deseo
ya no me entrenvero
y hablar eso
que se me iba

Con los ojos no te veo
se que se me viene el mareo
y es entonces
cuando quiero
salir a caminar

Con los ojos no te veo
se que se me viene el mareo
y es entonces
cuando quiero
salir a caminar

El agua me ciega
hay vidrio en la arena
ya no me da pena
dejarte que un adios

Asi son las cosas
amargas borrosas
son fotos veladas
de un tiempo mejor

Con los ojos no te veo
se que se me viene el mareo
y es entonces
cuando quiero
salir a caminar

Con los ojos no te veo
se que se me viene el mareo
y es entonces
cuando quiero
salir a caminar

El aire me ciega
hay vidrio en la arena
ya no me da pena
dejarte un adios

Asi son las cosas
amargas borrosas
son fotos veladas
de un tiempo mejor

Con los ojos no te veo
se que se me viene el mareo
y es entonces
cuando quiero
salir a caminar

Con los ojos no te veo
se que se me viene el mareo
y es entonces
cuando quiero
salir a caminar


Dance and Biology


Smoking Gun
Robert Cray


The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
Fozbee Animation

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