be a mother
It is to unfold fiber by fiber
The hearts of the children.
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 the 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 think about the relationships between parents and children, certainly one of the most explored themes in universal Literature. 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 sensorial in verses and metaphors.
The most sublime of all feelings, one of the most versed and remembered in Literature and the visual arts, mother’s love, which transcends and makes transcend, saw its perfect representation in art. Figure that gives contours and colors to the world, apart from the dates agreed on the calendar, mothers around the world follow their craft of loving and educating every day. To prove the intense relationship between mothers, literature and visual arts, we have selected for you five poems about the mothers of great poets of the Portuguese language, in addition to five beautiful canvases that portray, with the colors of their inks, the infinite motherly love. Good reading!
Connected with social causes in Mexico, Diego Rivera produced several murals portraying inequalities in his country
MOTHER…
It’s just three letters,
Those of that blessed name:
Three little letters, nothing more…
And in them fits infinity
And such a small word – even atheists confess –
You are the size of the sky
And only smaller than God!
Mario Quintana
The most famous impressionist painter, the French Claude Monet was born in Paris on November 14, 1840
Forever
Why does God allow
that mothers leave?
Mother 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
without leaving a trace.
Mother, in your grace,
it’s eternity.
Why does God remember
– profound mystery –
to take it off one day?
If I were King of the World,
downloaded a law:
Mother never dies,
mother will always stay
with your son
and he, old though,
will be small
made from corn kernels.
Carlos Drummond de Andrade
The American painter Mary Cassat lived most of her life in France, where she lived with other impressionist painters
Don’t stop now… There’s more after the publicity 😉
MOTHER
Mother – who numbs this painful living.
And watch me this night so cold,
And with pious hands to the edge
Of my poor existence, half broken…
Take me with you, asleep,
When passing through the darkest place…
Bathe me and wash my soul there in the river
From the clear light of your dear gaze…
I gave away 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, darling, 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 crazy to your lap
Afraid of the ghosts on the roof.
Nina my sleep full of restlessness
Lightly patting my arm
That I am very afraid, 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. Cast out the immense anguish
Of my being that doesn’t want and can’t
Give me a kiss at the sore source
That she burns with fever, my mother.
Cradle me in your lap like before
Tell me in a low voice: — Son, do not be afraid
Sleep in peace, your mother doesn’t sleep.
Sleeps. Those who have been waiting for you for a long time
Tired have gone far away.
Next to you is your mother
Your brother. that the study fell asleep
Your sisters stepping lightly
So as not to awaken your sleep.
Sleep, my son, sleep on my chest
Dream happiness. fleece me
My mother, my mother, I’m afraid
I am terrified of resignation. tell me to stay
Chase away this space that holds me
Chase away the infinity that calls me
That I am very afraid, my mother.
Vinicius de Moraes
Mary Cassatt created diverse 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! Being a mother is having someone else’s
lip that sucks, the pedestal of the breast,
where life, where love, singing, vibrates.
Being a mother is being an angel who is free
about a sleeping crib! It is to be longing,
is to be reckless, is to be fearful,
it is to be strength that balances the evils!
All the good that the mother enjoys is the good of the
son, mirror in which you look lucky,
Light that puts a new shine in your eyes!
Being a mother is walking around crying in a smile!
Being a mother is having a world and having nothing!
Being a mother is suffering in paradise!
grandson rabbit
By Luana Castro
Graduated in Letters