"Isabel Zamith e o seu Mundo"

                                                                                          

                                                                                            

                                                                                        A tua arte é o fugaz sopro Divino

                                                                                                                     Que tudo anima e faz estremecer!

                                                                                                                     É o sangue, nas veias a correr,

                                                                                                                     A água do regato cristalino!

                                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                      É luz solar do raio matutino,

                                                                                                                      Clarão crepuscular do entardecer,

                                                                                                                      É tudo quanto existe a preencher

                                                                                                                      A pintura imprevisível do destino!

                                                                                                                                  

                                                                                                                     Tua arte tem vida e sentimento,

                                                                                                                     Conhece o cuidar de quem a trata;

                                                                                                                      No vigor e no fruto se retrata

                                                                                                                      O génio ou amor do tratamento!

                                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                     Se maior e mais belo crescimento,

                                                                                                                     A vista nos alegra: é sempre grata

                                                                                                                     A cor esmeraldina, ou ouro, ou prata,

                                                                                                                     Ou da rubra flor que ondula o vento

                                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                     Tu procuras neste Mundo um mundo novo

                                                                                                                     Que seja mais perfeito que o presente,

                                                                                                                     Que seja mais humana toda a gente

                                                                                                                     Na tua arte que se gera para este povo!

                                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                     Na tua pintura o germe exemplifica

                                                                                                                     Os sábios conteúdos de cor mimosa,

                                                                                                                     Que tudo renova e multiplica

                                                                                                                      Nas imagens da paleta portentosa!

                                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                      Formas, cores, imagens no sentir do povo

                                                                                                                      É talvez a mensagem mais eficiente,

                                                                                                                      Que há milénios avança lentamente

                                                                                                                       E em ti é constante na Vida, é seu renovo.

                                                                                                                                     

                                                                                                                       Isabel Zamith na pintura sabe arquitetar

                                                                                                                       Novo mundo cromático que tem coração:

                                                                                                                       Onde hinos de encanto nos vêm afagar

                                                                                                                        Na Beleza, no Amor e na sublime Sedução!

                                                                                                                                        Autor: Manuel Bontempo / 2007

     

                                                                                                                                        

                                                                                                                   "Isabel Zamith e a sua arte"

                                                                                    

                                                                                                                                               

                                                                                                                                            Sonho que embriaga

                                                                                                                              Enquanto se afaga

                                                                                                                              Com o pensamento;

                                                                                                                              Arte de espuma

                                                                                                                              Vogando na bruma

                                                                                                                              Ao sabor do talento!

                                                                                                                               

     

                                                                                                                               Ilusão de luz

                                                                                                                               Onde nos conduz

                                                                                                                               Em seu pincelar;

                                                                                                                               Artista alada

                                                                                                                               Que, embora acordada

                                                                                                                               Concebe a sonhar!

                                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                                Ilusão de mundos

                                                                                                                                Que uns olhos profundos

                                                                                                                                Mostram num sorriso;

                                                                                                                                Bela sinfonia 

                                                                                                                                Onde a fantasia

                                                                                                                                Toca de improviso!

                                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                                 Raio de luar

                                                                                                                                 Que faz cintilar

                                                                                                                                 O marco da esperança;

                                                                                                                                 Este marco certo

                                                                                                                                 Que prende tão perto

                                                                                                                                 E jamais se alcança!

                

                                                                                                                                 

                                                                                                                                  Oh! Ilusão, ilusão

                                                                                                                                  Arte cristalina

                                                                                                                                  Que tens no coração

                                                                                                                                  Com amor desde menina!

                                                                                                                                  Pintura sempre a cativar

                                                                                                                                  Nesta vida tão fugaz,

                                                                                                                                  Tem o condão de nos agarrar

                                                                                                                                   Na BELEZA que nos satisfaz!

                                                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                                                      Autor: Manuel Bontempo

                                                                                                                                              26 de maio de 2007

                                                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                     

                                

                                                  

  

                                                                                                      

                                                                                  

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