Como cada povo viu Zidane

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Mandaram-me isto por mail :)


Como os Alemães viram Zidane:












Como os Franceses viram (o Materazzi!):












Como os Italianos viram (o Zidane):












Como os Norte-Americanos viram o Zidane:












Como os Chineses viram o Zidane:

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Sonnet 47

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Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, And each doth good turns now unto the other: When that mine eye is famish'd for a look, Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother, With my love's picture then my eye doth feast And to the painted banquet bids my heart; Another time mine eye is my heart's guest And in his thoughts of love doth share a part: So, either by thy picture or my love, Thyself away art resent still with me; For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move, And I am still with them and they with thee; Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight. Shakespeare, Sonnet 47 (Inglês currente: Between my eyes and heart a pact is made, And they each now do good things for the other: When my eyes are starved for a look (at you), Or my heart smothers itself with sighs, On my love's picture my eyes do feast And my eyes call my heart to this beautiful picture; Another ...
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Sonnet 18

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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair some time declines, By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grows't: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. Shakespeare, Sonnet 18 (1609) (Inglês currente: Shall I compare you to a summer's day? You are more lovely and more constant: Rough winds shake the beloved buds of May And summer is far too short: At times the sun is too hot, Or often goes behind the clouds; And everything beautiful sometime will lose its beauty, By misfortune or by nature...
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