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■ A 8th Bienal do Douro sem limites
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-06-13 | [Este texto deve ser lido em english] | Submetido por Valeria Pintea
Think on it!
In the beginning Had not occurred such thing as mortal Death. Walked hand in hand our new Maide children the sweetest aisles of perfect earth Risen there its soil, spread holy stock organic membrane woven round. Devised his curse, Apollo, Set Man against The Woman Descendants human kine. Yet had not early surged such enmity between the genders, Persecuted first, The Queen of Heaven. Aphollowed only after. . . Churst and Massacred, The Woman. Reached to genocide, the earthly state of war between divided sexes. Yet never existed true schism, except was thing contrived in heaven. Now Male and Female are conditioned equal, Denying both, their maker Goddess. He bruises heel, Apollo: 'Upon your seed, my venmity Serpent Worman! Repent!' Harries her, Impalla-Acchus, Self-proclaimed was Jealous God Impelled the rancor ancient. As perceives the beauty envied Maide New Human. . . Sets about its persecution. Twinned progeny was Io's, Derogates as produce hardly more than beasts the fields That cause henceforward Vengeful mayhem and destruction.
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