Inglês, perguntado por amabylekarolinne15, 8 meses atrás

urgente pfvr

(7. / Wole Soyinka não usa a palavra "preconceito" em seu poema, mas percebemos que ele está demonstrando isso. Como o poeta lida com o preconceito em "Conversa telefônica"? Escreva a resposta correta em seu caderno. A) Por usando letras maiúsculas em algumas partes. b) Usando a palavra "Africano" duas vezes no poema. c) Usando ironia, ou seja, palavras para expressar o oposto do significado literal. d) Admitindo à mulher que é africano.

livro de inglês pág 139 do ensino médio​

Soluções para a tarefa

Respondido por laravieira23
0

Explicação:

escreve o poema nos comentarios


laravieira23: escreve o poema aqui
amabylekarolinne15: The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. "Madam," I warned,
"I hate a wasted journey--I am African."
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
"HOW DARK?" . . . I had not misheard . . . "ARE YOU LIGHT
OR VERY DARK?" Button B, Button A.*
amabylekarolinne15: Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis--
"ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?" Revelation came.
"You mean--like plain or milk chocolate?"
Her assent
amabylekarolinne15: Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. "West African sepia"--and as afterthought,
"Down in my passport." Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. "WHAT'S THAT?" conceding
"DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS." "Like brunette."
"THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT?" "Not altogether.
amabylekarolinne15: Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused--
Foolishly, madam--by sitting down, has turned
My bottom raven black--One moment, madam!"--sensing
Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap
About my ears--"Madam," I pleaded, "wouldn't you rather
See for yourself?"
amabylekarolinne15: não deu pra mandar tudo de uma vez, Sorry :(
amabylekarolinne15: o nome do poema é telephone conversation
laravieira23: capaz td certo vo tentar fazer e edito
amabylekarolinne15: muito obrigado
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