Professor Doutor Alberto Romão Dias

Perdeu-se um grande homem... Mais que um Professor ele foi o Mentor de todos nós. Aliava em si todas as características de um bon vivant, vivendo o lema "carpe diem"
Um dos meus filmes preferidos é o clube dos poetas mortos e o Professor Romão - o Chefe como carinhosamente o referíamos, era o nosso Professor John Keating. Ele inspiráva-nos a atingir a grandiosidade, a viver a vida e a amar a Química. Com dor passo agora pelo seu gabinete!!!
Foi uma honra e um privilégio ser sua aluna e mais tarde, apesar de breve, ter trabalhado sob a sua alçada.
Só me resta dizer:
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!
Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up -- for you the flag is flung -- for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths -- for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up -- for you the flag is flung -- for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths -- for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,