be a mother
It's unfolding fiber by fiber
children's hearts.
Love is the driving force of life. There are probably those who disagree, however, no feeling has gained more prominence among poets and artists throughout our history. There are those who say that, among all loves, a mother's love is the most forceful, a literally visceral love.
Mother's Day is celebrated in Brazil every second Sunday in May, but in other cultures mothers are also remembered. Although it has acquired a somewhat commercial connotation, the date can be a great time to thinking about the relationships between parents and children, certainly one of the most explored themes in Literature universal. In the impossibility of faithfully translating the maternal feeling, poets such as Carlos Drummond de Andrade, Mario Quintana, Antero de Quental, Vinicius de Moraes and Coelho Neto produced beautiful poems about mothers, in which they tried to explain something so in verse and metaphors. sensory.
The most sublime among all feelings, one of the most learned and remembered in Literature and in plastic arts, the mother's love, which transcends and makes it transcend, saw its representation in art perfect. Figure that gives contours and colors to the world, alien to the dates agreed on the calendar, mothers around the world follow their job of loving and educating every day. To prove the intense relationship between mothers, literature and the visual arts, we selected five poems about mothers from great poets of the Portuguese language, as well as five beautiful canvases that portray the infinite love with the colors of their paints. maternal. Good reading!
Connected with social causes in Mexico, Diego Rivera produced several murals portraying inequalities in his country
MOM...
There are only three letters,
Those of that blessed name:
Three little letters, nothing more...
And in them fits the infinite
And such a small word - even the atheists confess -
you are the size of the sky
And just smaller than God!
Mario Quintana
The most famous impressionist painter, Frenchman Claude Monet was born in Paris on November 14, 1840
Forever
why God allows
that mothers leave?
Mom has no limit,
it's time without time,
light that doesn't go out
when the wind blows
and rain falls,
hidden velvet
on wrinkled skin,
pure water, pure air,
pure thought.
dying happens
with what is brief and passes
leaving no trace.
Mother, in his grace,
it's eternity.
why God remembers
- deep mystery -
to take it out one day?
Were I King of the World,
lowered a law:
Mother never dies,
mother will always stay
with your son
and he, old though,
will be small
made from corn grain.
Carlos Drummond de Andrade
American painter Mary Cassat lived most of her life in France, where she lived with other Impressionist painters.
Do not stop now... There's more after the advertising ;)
MOM
Mother - let this painful living sleep.
And watch me tonight in such cold weather,
And with godly hands to the brim
From my poor existence, half broken...
Take me with you, asleep,
As you pass through the darkest place...
Bathe me and wash my soul by the river
From the clear light of your dear eyes...
I gave my pride as a man - I gave
My sterile science, without fear,
And in a weak little child I became,
careless, happy, docile too,
If I could sleep on your breast,
If you were, dear, my mother!
Antero de Quental
Camille Monet was the first wife of Claude Monet, founder of French Impressionism. On screen, Monet portrayed her with her son, Jean
My mom
my mother, my mother, I'm afraid
I'm afraid of life, my mother.
Sing the sweet song you used to sing
When I ran mad in your lap
Afraid of the ghosts on the roof.
Nina my restless sleep
patting my arm
That I'm very scared, my mother.
Rest the friendly light of your eyes
In my eyes without light and without rest
Tell the pain that awaits me forever
To go away. expels the immense anguish
My being that doesn't want and can't
give me a kiss at the aching fountain
May she burn with fever, my mother.
Cuddle me in your lap like before
Say to me in a low voice like this: — Son, don't be afraid
Sleep in peace, your mother does not sleep.
Sleeps. Those who have been waiting for you for a long time
Tired they've gone away.
Next to you is your mother
Your brother. that the study fell asleep
your sisters stepping lightly
Not to wake up your sleep.
Sleep, my son, sleep on my chest
Dreams of happiness. I fleece
my mother, my mother, I'm afraid
The resignation terrifies me. say i stay
Chase away this space that holds me
Chase away the infinity that calls me
That I am very scared, my mother.
Vinicius de Moraes
Mary Cassatt created several images of women's social and private lives, emphasizing the relationship between mothers and children.
be a mother
Being a mother is unfolding fiber by fiber
the heart! To be a mother is to be in someone else's
sucking lip, the breast pedestal,
where life, where love, singing, vibrates.
Being a mother is being an angel that breaks free
about a sleeping crib! It is to be yearning,
is to be reckless, is to be afraid,
is to be a force that balances evils!
All the good that the mother enjoys is the good of the
son, mirror in which to look lucky,
Light that puts a new glow in your eyes!
Being a mother is walking around crying with a smile!
Being a mother is having a world and having nothing!
Being a mother is suffering in paradise!
rabbit grandson
By Luana Castro
Graduated in Letters
