
PERFORMING ARTS
OPEN CALL
JANTAR | DINNER
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PERFORMANCE BY SARA CARINHAS & JOANA CAMPELO
MÚSICA | MUSIC
WHY TRY TO CHANGE ME NOW?
Fiona Apple
I'm sentimental, so I walk in the rain
I've got some habits, even I can't explain
Go to the corner, I end up in Spain
Why try to change me now?
I sit and daydream, I've got daydreams galore
Cigarette ashes, there they go on the floor
Go away weekends, leave my keys in the door
Why try to change me now?
Why can't I be more conventional?
People talk and they stare, so I try
But that can't be, 'cause I can't see
My strange little world just go passing me by
Let people wonder
Let 'em laugh, let 'em frown
You know I'll love you 'til the moon's upside down
Don't you remember I was always your clown?
Why try to change me now?
POEMA | POEM
THE COMMON PLACE
Maria Velho da Costa
There's a place, a little place, as small as a glass house in the forest on a pin, said the child. That's where I keep my pity for everyone's face.
This child will stop smiling, said the Child Measurer.
There's a place, a little place as small as an orange shining at the bottom of the black snapper's eye on the kitchen table, said the child. That's where I keep my fear of everyone's face.
This child will stop running, said the Child Measurer.
There's a place, a little place as small as the silkworm's blue egg, said the child. That's where I kept my friend.
This child will stop talking, said the Child Measurer.
There's a place, a small place as small as the little piece of skin that burns at the top of my fingernail, said the child. That's where I kept my father.
This child will leave everything, said the Child Measurer.
There is a place, a little place as small as the little piece of sugar that the fly takes for its little children to break and make mirrors, said the child. That's where I kept my mum.
This child is going to die, said the Child Measurer.
There's a place, a little place as small as the bubble of juice inside the tangerine bud, said the child. That's where I kept myself and ate it and it passed into the tiniest of the tiniest holes in my heart.
This child is finished, said the Child Measurer. We need to make another.
POEMA | POEM
PAST
Ana Luisa Amaral
Ah old notebook
in which I used to write my French compositions
'Mes Vacances': I really enjoyed my vacation
je suis allée à la plage (with two ee,
the verb être requires agreement), j'ai beaucoup
nagé and then ended with the sun setting
in the sea and I'd look up seagulls in the dictionary
The corrections in red and the Passé Simple,
to write a hundred times nous fumes vous fûtes ils furent
the sunny afternoons
and Madame Denise saying Toi ma petite
looking like a sergeant and her angry face turning
red (I have too many blood cells, faites attention)
and the gaze that belied everything
in remplit tenderness
And the memorized rules and the verb endings
a i s, a i s, a i t,
the extra hour of study and the late afternoon sun
filtering through the desks,
the nun watching distractedly over psalms
me dreaming with my book open
once upon a time there was a little boy
and third-degree equations to one
unknown
Those clear afternoons when it was good to
be good, it wasn't the saint or the candy
it was the sweet word caressing me from within,
the all-white gowns sprinkled with colored gouache
colored and the blue belt I always wore loose
falling sideways like a swordswoman
The creaking wooden stairs
to the rhythm of footsteps, still felt
at a distance of twenty years,
all of us in a submissive line answering the call,
"Present" seemed logical and right to me then
like attending prayer in the chapel and reading the Epistles
(St. Paul to the Corinthians:
In those days...),
You have a beautiful voice and read so well, and then
they'd tell me to fasten my belt so that I'd be
more composed on the stool,
to the right of the priest
And the fascination of confession,
the voices whispered in the thin web of wood
hiding a lack,
the smell of waxed floors and candle wax
and when I stopped believing in sins
and began to think that words were no good
and that it was useless
the web of wood was useless
The sleepless nights of twenty years ago,
once upon a time there was a little boy
and he went on a journey
there was a girl
and the passé simple, how simple the past seamed
Au clair de la lune
mon ami Pierrot
Prête-moi ta plume
pour écrire un mot
Writing a word
just one
in the moonlight
asking for agreement like a caress
Elles sont parties,
les mouettes
MÚSICA | MUSIC
DESAFINADO
João Gilberto
Quando eu vou cantar, você não deixa
E sempre vêm a mesma queixa
Diz que eu desafino, que eu não sei cantar
Você é tão bonita
Mas tanta beleza também pode se acabar
Se você disser que eu desafino, amor
Saiba que isto em mim provoca imensa dor
Só privilegiados têm ouvido igual ao seu
Eu possuo apenas o que Deus me deu
Se você insiste em me classificar
Meu comportamento de anti musical
Eu mesmo mentindo, devo argumentar
Que isto é bossa nova
Que isto é muito natural
O que você não sabe, nem sequer pressente
É que os desafinados também têm coração
Fotografei você na minha Rolley-flex
Revelou-se a sua enorme ingratidão
Só não poderá falar assim do meu amor
Ele é o maior que você pode encontrar, viu?
Você com a sua música esqueceu o principal
Que no peito dos desafinados
No fundo do peito bate calado
No peito dos desafinados também bate um coração
MÚSICA | MUSIC
TU E SÓ TU
Simone de Oliveira e Marco Paulo
(Portuguese version of “Something stupid”)
Eu sei que o tempo passa
e tantas coisas acontecem sem as entender.
O mundo é uma dança
que não pára e onde tudo pode suceder.
Por isso tu surgiste
e em cada dia tudo então se transformou depois.
Caí naquela asneira
de dizer por brincadeira
"és o meu amor".
Meus olhos não procuram as estrelas
quando a noite me vem procurar.
Não preciso de vê-las
com a luz que vejo sempre só no teu olhar.
Há só uma verdade
não importa quando alguém nos quiser censurar.
Até quando disserem "já é tarde",
é sempre tempo pra quem sabe amar.
No ar anda o perfume do amor
que nos pressegue até ao fim talvez.
É estupidez,
insensatez,
mas quem eu quero és tu,
bem vês, ai, és só tu.
Por isso tu surgiste
e em cada dia tudo então se transformou depois.
Caí naquela asneira
de dizer por brincadeira
"és o meu amor"
The time is right, your perfume fills my head
The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue
And then I go and spoil it all
By saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"