Copertina
Date 1919-1920
Country Brazil
City São Pedro do Piquiri (now Pequeri)
Province Zona da Mata Mineira
Region/State Minas Gerais
Sex of author F
May 2, 1920
If I were an angel, what would I do?

If I were an angel, what would I do? I would spread my wings, white as snow, to split the air and fly up, very high. First, I would go to heaven to be with the Eternal Father to receive good advice; then, on my way back, I would go to Europe to see if it is any better than my dear hometown, which is called Brazil. I would return to heaven to tell my good Father that Europe was reduced to poverty. Then I would have to build a beautiful staircase for those young children who wanted to visit the Creator. Then I would go to the most beautiful garden to pick some flowers to put them at the feet of the Mother of God. I would go to the foot of the most beautiful trees to smell the scent of their flowers. I would later go to Church to pray for all of you. If I were an angel, I would do this all! I would also do anything that God wanted…
I would free a flock of birds to let them live always happily … I would take care of the ships that are about to sink, thus saving people travelling to Europe.
If I were an angel, I would do this all.

Se eu fosse um anjo, o que faria?

Se eu fosse um anjo o que faria? Abriria as minhas asas, brancas como a neve, para corta o espaço alem, muito alem. Primeiramente iria ao céu estar com o Pae Eterno para receber bons conselhos; depois voltando iria a Europa a ver se seria ella melhor do que querido berço natal – que se chama Brasil. Voltaria ao céu para dizer ao meu bon Pae, que a Europa estava reduzida a miserria. Depois haveria de construir uma escadas riquissima para aquellas creancinhas que quizissem visitar o Creador. Iria depois ao mais bello jardim colher umas flôres para collocal-as aos pes da mãe de Deus. Iria ao pé das mais bellas arvores afim de aspirar o perfume de suas flóres. Iria, á tardinha, à Igreja rezar bastante para todos vós. Si eu fosse um anjo tudo isto faria! Faria mais alguma cousa que Deus quizesse………………..
Haveria de soltar um bando de passaros elles viverem sempre alegres….. Haveria de tomar conta dos navios á hora em que estevesse preste a se afundarem, salvando assim as pessoas que nel-le fossem para a Europa…..
Si eu fosse um anjo haveria de fazer tudo isto.

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June 1920
The child and the rosebud

Recently I witnessed a curious scene: a small child extending little hands to any object that held her attention. From afar I could not see what so enchanted the child, but coming closer I saw her dark eyes staring at a gracious rosebud she could not reach because it was too high up. Then I hastened to cut the flower that so captivated the innocent girl. It was a beautiful red bud, hidden as if afraid under the green foliage of the rose bush; its petals still kept, as if in a precious safe, its intoxicating scent. The sun of this spring morning made it all the more beautiful, making all the tears that the dawn had shed on the delicate casing shine with different colors. How beautiful was the little bud; how ruddy her petals were, not yet burned by the heat of the sun! Oh! Each flower is a masterpiece of the author of all the beauties of the universe! This lovely bud was beautiful and sweet because it had a green casing, within which it shut itself to shelter its sweet and timid flower: the future rose under the foliage of the rosebush that would not let the wind unhinge its petals.
Here is a faithful image of a child!
Just as this bud was candid and beautiful, so was also the little child who coveted it, (“because candor loves candor”). The child was beautiful and mainly happy because she had the Blessed Virgin to guide her. This guardian angel who did not forsake her, neither by night nor by day, was like the rose tree that sheltered the fragile bud! Happy little creature! May the chain of sorrows never drag the child to suffer the sorrows of the world!
Happy bud, which the storms were not able to rip it from its branch. The child is beautiful because she possesses innocence, purity, and candor in her little heart.
Will there be someone luckier in the world? Oh! Certainly not, because pure hearts are the temples where the Blessed Virgin conceals her love and her graces.

A creança e o botāo de rosa

Ainda ha pouco presenciei uma scena muito curiosa. Uma creancinha estendia as alvas māozinhas para qualquer objecto que lhe prendia a attençāo. De longe eu nāo podia ver o que encantava tāo vivamente a creança, mas chegando-me bem perto della vi que seus olhos negros fitaream um gracioso botāo de rosa e que por estar muito alto nāo podia colhel-o. Entāo apressei-me a cortar a flôr que tanto captivava a innocente menina. Era um lindo botāo encarnado, escondido como que medroso sob a folhagem verde da roseira; as suas petalas ainda guardavam, como em precioso cofre, o aroma inebriante que o seu calece possuia. O sol dessa manhā primaveril tornava-o ainda mais bello, fazendo brilhar com differentes côres todas as lagrimas que a aurora no seu primeiro alvorar tinha derramado sobre o mimoso involocro. Como era bello o botāosinho; como eram rubras suas petalas ainda nāo crestadas pelos ardores do sol!………………………. Oh! Cada flôr é uma obra prima do auctor de todas as bellezas do universo!……………………. Esse lindo botāo era bello e mimoso porque tinha al protegel-o um involucro verde dentro do qual se encerrava e abrigava-se meiga e timida flôr; a futura rosa sob a folhagem da roseira que nāo deixava o vento arrancar suas petalas.
Eis uma imagem fiel da creança!………………..
Assim como este botāo era candido e formoso, tambem era a creancinha que o cubiçava, (“porque a candura ama a candura”) era formosa sobretuto feliz, porque tinha, a velarlhe o somno, a Māe extremosa e a encanainhar seus passinhos incertos. Esse anjo tutelar que a nāo desamparava, nem de noite e nem de dia, era como a roseira que abrigava o fragil botāo! ……………….. Feliz creaturinha!….. que a corrente de tristezas nāo poude arrasta-a para soffrer as magôas do mundo! ………………..
Feliz botāo que as tempestades o nāo desprenderam da sua haste. A creança é bella porque possue a innocencia, pureza, candura no seu pequeno coraçāo.
Haverá alguem mais ditoso no mundo?………….. Oh! Por certo que nāo, porque os corações puros sāo os templos onde a S.S. Virgem esconde seu amor e suas graças.

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July 1, 1920
At the foot of a tomb

It’s nighttime!
A beautiful night in June, the pallid moon, very pallid, still on the peaks of the mountains. In the cemetery the gold-colored rays make the tombs more mysterious and poetic. The city of the dead is calm and silent! With hesitant steps I walked further and entered the holy city. It was late when I was praying low at the foot of the grave of my unforgettable friend. A black figure appeared asking me, “What are you doing poor girl, so sad and quiet?” I replied. “I am praying for the soul of my friend Licinda, who died two months ago.” Just as I finished, the figure disappeared. I prayed my prayers, and I thought about that incident. What did it mean? But what was I thinking? … Feeling confused, I left slowly and fearfully. It was late when I began to weep, and I decided to leave that large cemetery. Diana was already disappearing from the sky. When I got home I went quickly to bed!

Ao pé de um tumulo

È noite!……….
Noite formosa de junho!……….. A lua, pallida, muito pallida, oscula ainda os pincaros das montahnas. No cemitario os raios doirados tornam os tumulos mais mysteriosos e poeticos. A cidade dos mortos está calma e silenciosa!…….. Com passos vacilantes caminhei alem e entrei na cidade santa: já era tarde quando eu estva rezando, muito baixo, ao pé do tumulo da minha inesquecivel amiga, quando appareceu-me um vulto preto perguntando-me: O que fazes, pobre menina, tāo triste e tāo calada? Respondi-lhe tremula: “Estou rezando um pouco por intençāo da alma da minha amiga Licinda, que falleceu ha dois mezes”. Mal acabei de falar o vulto desappareceu. Acabei de rezar as minhas orações e fiquei pensando na visāo que tivera-se me afigurado antes os olhos. O que queria aquillo significar?……… Mas, pensava eu, e……………. muda cabisbaixa fui sahindo vagarosa e medrosamente daquelle lugar. Já era tarde quando comecei a chorar e deliberei a ausentar-me daquelle cemeterio tāo grande. Diana já ia desapparecendo do céu. Cheigando á casa fui logo deitar-me!………………………………………

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Copertina