The Medievals - Douce Dame Jolie



Douce dame jolie, pour dieu ne pensés mie

Que nulle ait signorie seur moy fors vous seulement.


  Qu'adès sans tricherie chierie

  Vous ay et humblement

  Tous les jours de ma vie servie

  Sans villain pensement.


Helas! et je mendie d'esperance et d'aïe;

Dont ma joie est fenie, se pité ne vous en prent.


Mais vo douce maistrie maistrie mon cuer si durement

Qu'elle le contralie et lie en amour tellement


Qu'il n'a de riens envie fors d'estre en vo baillie;

Et se ne li ottrie vos cuers nul aligement.


Et quant ma maladie garie ne sera nullement

Sans vous, douce anemie, qui lie estes de mon tourment,


A jointes mains deprie vo cuer, puis qu'il m'oublie,

Que temprement m'ocie, car trop langui longuement.


      "Douce Dame Jolie" - composed by French composer and poet Guillaume de Machaut. He was a central figure of the ars nova style in late medieval music. Machaut embodies the culmination of the poet-composer tradition stretching back to the traditions of troubadour and trouvère. In "Douce Dame Jolie", the lyrical subject praises the beauty of the young lady, assuring her of his undying love.  A glimpse of the age of the Troubadours.


Anna Alma-Tadema - Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema's Library in Townshend House, London, 1884



      It depicts an elegant Victorian interior filled with refinement and quiet intimacy. The richly furnished library glows with warm light, revealing polished wood, patterned textiles, books, ceramics, and carefully arranged decorative objects. Every surface demonstrates her meticulous attention to texture and detail. The composition reflects both aesthetic harmony and intellectual culture, while offering a personal glimpse into the domestic world of her father, Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, celebrated for his luxurious classical scenes.


Egito Gonçalves

 


Nenhum amor é total,

nenhum amor desenha a latitude

e longitude como linhas ideais;

na massa em fusão

há sempre uma impureza,

todo o amor tem as suas fissuras

a vigiar constantemente.

O dia, raro atinge a sua ponta extrema.


      O poema reflete sobre os limites inevitáveis do amor humano. O sujeito poético reconhece que qualquer relação permanece incompleta, marcada pela imperfeição, pela ausência e pela impossibilidade de entrega absoluta. Além disso, o poema valoriza a consciência da fragilidade afetiva, mostrando que amar implica aceitar falhas, distâncias e contradições. Assim, o amor surge simultaneamente como experiência e insuficiente, capaz de unir pessoas sem eliminar a solidão.


Angels and Insects, 1995, dir. Philip Haas

 


      William Adamson, a naturalist returning to England after years exploring the Amazon, finds himself destitute following the loss of his possessions at sea. He is taken in by a wealthy Victorian family whose patriarch shares his fascination with entomology. As William becomes integrated into their household and begins studying their extensive insect collection, he develops a complicated relationship with the enigmatic Eugenia, the patriarch’s daughter.

      Haas crafts the film with a refined visual sensibility that reflects the rigid elegance of Victorian society. The cinematography by Remi Adefarasin captures candlelit interiors, lush gardens, and the delicate textures of the natural world, mirroring the film’s fascination with observation and classification. The performances by Mark Rylance and Kristin Scott Thomas bring subtle tension to a story where restraint often conceals deeper desires and secrets.

      Adapted from a novella by A. S. Byatt, the film explores parallels between human behaviour and insect societies, suggesting that beneath the veneer of civility lie instincts shaped by hierarchy, survival, and reproduction. The narrative gradually reveals the darker implications of these comparisons within the household itself.

      Premiering in the Un Certain Regard section at the 1995 Cannes Film Festival, the film was praised for its performances and intellectual ambition, standing out as an unusual blend of period drama, scientific reflection, and psychological mystery.


Folk music in the Australian bush, 1966



      Notes in YouTuve video: Please turn on subtitles if you are struggling to understand the conversation at 2:30. If you are able to clarify any of the missing parts, it would be helpful to share this information in the comments.

      As some people have pointed out in the comments, the lyrics at 3:23 should probably be ‘at Jackass, at sawpit, at spring gully clear’. ‘Gullies’ are apparently where gold was found.

      The line at 5:48 should be ‘at the sun they take a look’.


0:00 Simon McDonald - Cockies of Bungaree (Roud 20415)

1:03 Simon McDonald - The Old Bark Hut (Roud 22662)

2:03 Lumsden family collecting Simon McDonald's songs

3:13 Simon McDonald - Gold in the Creswick Hills

3:50 Lumsden family

4:13 Elizabeth Jamieson - The Murray River Shore

5:01 Lumsden Family - Lime-Juice Tub (Roud 22605)


Anna Katarina Boberg, (Swedish, 1864–1935), Evening Silence, 1916



      "Using tones of coral pink, lemon yellow, mint green, and sapphire blue, Swedish artist Anna Boberg created this twilight view of mountains and the sea in Lofoten in northern Norway. The swirling patterns and thick application of paint lend a sense of decorative abstraction to the picture. Boberg travelled to this remote region repeatedly, often working outdoors to capture the atmospheric effects of light reflecting off the bay. Despite this, Evening Silence was likely painted from memory in the artist’s studio." 

                                  Via Saint Louis Art Museum


Carlos Salem - Testamento de dúvidas



O que será destes meus escritos, tão alheios,

no dia em que eu já cá não esteja para os nomear?

Quem apanhará do chão os versos

quando se desfolhar o tempo que me cabe?


Farão contas os meus herdeiros de alguns improváveis benefícios,

ou negarão qualquer relação com este batoteiro de poemas

que quis só meter a mão e a palavra por baixo das saias da vida

(e conseguiu às vezes)?


Disputarão os meus amores a provocação de uma estrofe,

esquecendo que amar não é mais do que repetir-se a si mesmo?

Organizarão um congresso de despeitas e perdões

com o peito ao vento e copos e pernas ao alto?

Lamentarão ter concedido os seus favores a um autor

mais interessado no mistério de certas virilhas

do que no futuro dos mercados?


Não chegarei a sabê-lo, felizmente.

Por isso escrevo.

Por isso amo.


Tradução A.M.


      No poema, o sujeito poético constrói um legado assente na incerteza, recusando verdades absolutas. A dúvida surge como forma de liberdade intelectual e emocional, revelando uma visão existencial marcada pela ironia e pela lucidez. O tom intimista aproxima o leitor das fragilidades humanas, enquanto a linguagem simples intensifica a profundidade reflexiva. 


Dervish & Andy Irvine - The Rambling Siúler. Shrewsbury Folk Festival 2010



Oh the highland lands are come to town

And landed in head waters

The colonel fell for a pretty little girl

The farmer's only daughter

The general bet five thousand pounds

The colonel wouldn't dress up in a beggars gowns

Would she travel the world around and round

Would she go with the rambling siuler


Oh the colonel started out next day

Dressed in beggars clothing

It wasn't long til he found his way

To the farmer's lowly dwelling

"Oh farmer shelter me for the night

I'll sleep in your barn until daylight

Take pity on a beggar's awful plight

God help a rambling siuler."


The farmer said, "The night is wet

You can come to the kitchen fire."

The colonel says to the serving maid

"It's you I do admire

Would you leave them all and come with me

Leave them all my stor mo chroi"

"What a lusty beggar you must be

Away with the rambling siuler!"


The farmer and his servants all

They fell into loud laughter

When who came tripping down the stairs

But the farmer's only daughter

She'd two bright eyes like the morning skies

Soon as the beggar he did her spy

She fairly caught his roving eye

"She'll be mine," says the rambling siuler


And the farmer and his servants all

They went out to the byre

He put his arm around her waist

As they sat by the kitchen fire

He put his hand upon her knee

Unto her gave kisses three

Says she, "How dare you make so free

And it's you but a rambling siuler."


When supper it was over

They made his bed in the barn

Between two sacks and a winnow cloth

For fear that he take harm

At twelve o'clock that very night

She came to the barn

She was dressed in white

The beggar rose in great delight

"She's mine," says the rambling siuler


And he threw off his beggar's clothes

He threw them against the wall

He stood the bravest gentleman

That was among them all

Will you look at my locks of golden hair

Under this sooty old hat I wear

"I'm a colonel bold I do declare, and none but a

Rambling siuler."


"And I wouldn't for one hundred pounds

That you and I be found here

Would you travel around the whole night long

And go with the rambling siuler, "

So it's off to the general's house they've gone

Great is the wager he has won

And away to the sound of the fife and the drum

She's away with the rambling siuler.


      The Rambling Siúler was collected in the North of Ireland by Sam Henry and is obviously Scottish in origin. Once again a fatal fascination for beggars brings ultimate reward to the farmer’s daughter (how did they do it?) An unlikely tale, this, but we like the colonel-come-beggar’s cunning in the third verse where he feigns interest in the serving girl, presumably to convince the farmer that he wasn’t going to try and get off with his daughter.


Marta Sanz - Chega sempre / Siempre llega

Chega sempre

um momento na vida

em que deixamos

de sentir-nos invulneráveis.


Torcemos

as linhas da mão.


A memória,

o ar feliz,

os gestos de ternura,

o sal e a praia,

não servem já

de nenhum consolo.


Não são carnais.


 Trad. A.M.


  Original:


Siempre llega

un segundo en la vida

en que uno deja

de sentirse invulnerable.


Se tuercen

las rayas de la mano.


La memoria,

los aires felices,

los gestos de ternura,

la sal y la playa,

no representan ya

ningún consuelo.


No son de carne.


      O poema explora a inevitabilidade do tempo e da memória, que transforma a realidade humana em algo maior. Espiritual? O tom intimista e reflexivo evidencia a fragilidade humana perante perdas, mudanças e expectativas. Há um caminho em direção à luz que não entendemos. 


Eduard Ritter - Brave Girls, Bad Boys, School Class in Tyrol



      It portrays a lively nineteenth-century rural classroom filled with playful disorder. Well-behaved girls sit attentively while mischievous boys distract themselves with paper hats, fruit, and chatter. An elderly teacher watches calmly, his long pipe adding humour and warmth to the scene. Portraits of Emperor Ferdinand I hang in the background, grounding the painting in Austrian Tyrol. Ritter captures village education with affectionate realism, balancing innocence, chaos, discipline, and everyday humanity beautifully.


Jack Gilbert – O Vale abandonado

 


Sabes o que é estar sozinho por tanto tempo

que sais a meio da noite

e enfias o balde no poço

só para sentires algo lá em baixo

a puxar a outra ponta da corda?


      Estas linhas são poesia? São, não são? Poesia é outra coisa, mas que coisa? A Samaritana velhinha ao recordar-se do que passou com Jesus. Nunca é tarde para beber dessa água.

 

Andy Irvine - As I Roved Out, 1976

 


As I roved out on a bright May morning

to view the meadows and flowers gay

Whom should I spy but my own true lover

as she sat under yon willow tree.


I took off my hat and I did salute her

I did salute her most courageously

When she turned around well the tears fell from her

sayin’ "False young man, you have deluded me.


A diamond ring I owned I gave you

a diamond ring to wear on your right hand

But the vows you made, love, you went and broke them

and married the lassie that had the land."


"If I’d married the lassie that had the land, my love

it’s that I’ll rue till the day I die

When misfortune falls sure no man can shun it

I was blindfolded I’ll ne’er deny."


Now at nights when I go to my bed of slumber

the thoughts of my true love run in my mind

When I turned around to embrace my darling

instead of gold sure it’s brass I find.


And I wish the Queen would call home her army

from the West Indies, Amerikay and Spain

And every man to his wedded woman

in hopes that you and I will meet again.


    His voice would bring a tear to a glass eye.


Vladimir Makovsky (Russian, 1846-1920), Mother and child, 1876



      The painting portrays a tender domestic moment filled with warmth and realism. A peasant mother cradles her young child with quiet affection, emphasizing emotional intimacy over grandeur. Soft lighting and earthy tones create a humble, lived-in atmosphere typical of Russian realist art. Makovsky captures everyday life with sensitivity, highlighting maternal devotion and the dignity of ordinary people in nineteenth-century Russia.


Ángeles Mora - Poética

 


Eu sei que estou aqui

para escrever a minha vida.

E que pouco a pouco cheguei

a esta cadeira.


E não quero errar.


Sei que vou contá-la

e que será mentira:

Em cima da mesa suja

uma gota de tinta.


 Tradução A. M.


  Original:


Yo sé que estoy aquí

para escribir mi vida.

Que vine poco a poco

hasta esta silla.


Y no quiero engañarme.


Sé que voy a contártela

y que será mentira:

Sobre la mesa sucia

una gota de tinta.


      O poema apresenta a escrita como um espaço de procura interior e de reconstrução da identidade. O tom reflexivo aproxima o leitor de uma visão humana e sensível da criação poética, onde a verdade e a perfeição são improváveis.


A Very Unusual Town (Part 4) | The Odd Jobs That Keep the Town Running

 


      This shows that a.i. is a tool not the brains of creativity.  There is a difference. The right tools in the right hands with the right eye. Absolutely love the music and I wish I could just disappear down one of those alleyways.


Vojtěch Hynais, Czech painter (1854–1925)--Společnost v přírodě, 1889



      The painting portrays an elegant outdoor gathering immersed in soft natural darklight and lush greenery. The painting balances refined social interaction with the tranquillity of nature, reflecting late 19th-century academic realism infused with lyrical atmosphere. Figures dressed in fashionable attire recline and converse casually, creating a sense of leisure and cultivated sophistication. Hynais uses delicate colour transitions and careful composition to blend human presence harmoniously with the surrounding landscape, evoking serenity, intimacy, and quiet cultural refinement.


Carmen Martín Gaite - Beco sem saída / Calejjón sin Salida

 

The Three Fates: Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos.

Já sei que não há saída,

mas deixai-me ir por aqui,

não peçais para voltar.

Cravaram-se-me os olhos

e a carne,

e não posso voltar,

e não quero voltar.

Não me griteis que não há

saída,

julgando que eu não oiço,

que não entendo.

As vossas vozes tropeçam-me na crosta

e caem como cascas,

que eu piso ao andar.

Avanço sozinha e alegre

na exacta manhã

pelo meu próprio caminho

que encontrei

embora não haja saída.


 Tradução A.M.


  Original:


Ya sé que no hay salida,

pero dejad que siga por aquí.

No me pidáis que vuelva.

Se han clavado mis ojos y mi

carne,

y no puedo volver.

Y no quiero volver.

Ya no me gritéis más que no hay

salida

creyendo que no oigo,

que no entiendo.

Vuestras voces tropiezan en mi costra

y se caen como cáscaras

y las piso al andar.

Avanzo alegre y sola

en la exacta mañana

por el camino mío que he

encontrado

aunque no haya salida.


      No poema existe a sensação de bloqueio existencial e emocional. A imagem do espaço fechado traduz a impossibilidade de fuga, revelando solidão, dúvida e desencanto. A linguagem simples intensifica o tom íntimo e reflexivo, aproximando o leitor da inquietação da voz poética. O beco funciona como metáfora da condição humana perante escolhas limitadas e caminhos interrompidos. O poema destaca ainda a tensão entre desejo de mudança e incapacidade de avançar.


Vizinhos - Laranjeiras



      Conheceram-se em Évora, através do grupo académico Seistetos, e a amizade foi quase instantânea. Como moravam perto uns dos outros e passavam parte do tempo juntos, a tocar e a cantar, o nome do grupo foi fácil de encontrar. "Veio dessa proximidade que queremos dar também às pessoas, sendo que o público é a nossa 'vizinhança', o nosso 'bairro' e também queremos que façam parte da nossa história", explicam David, Francisco e Miguel, de 25 anos, e Tomás, de 21.


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