com o último destino no horizonte

•Agosto 13, 2011 • Deixe um Comentário

Obrigado por terem lido esta rapsódia de palavras…

A aventura prossegue aqui:

Elegias da Tristânia

http://elegiasdatristania.wordpress.com/

Anúncios

More Lies

•Julho 4, 2011 • Deixe um Comentário

Sometimes I say I’m going to meet my sister at the café—
even though I have no sister—just because it’s such
a beautiful thing to say. I’ve always thought so, ever since

I read a novel in which two sisters were constantly meeting
in cafés. Today, for example, I walked alone
on the wet sidewalk, wearing my rain boots, expecting

someone might ask where I was headed. I bought
a steno pad and a watch battery, the store windows
fogged up. Rain in April is a kind of promise, and it costs

nothing. I carried a bag of books to the café and ordered
tea. I like a place that’s lit by lamps. I like a place
where you can hear people talk about small things,

like the difference between azure and cerulean,
and the price of tulips. It’s going down. I watched
someone who could be my sister walk in, shaking the rain

from her hair. I thought, even now florists are filling
their coolers with tulips, five dollars a bundle. All over
the city there are sisters. Any one of them could be mine.

Karin Gottshall, in “More Lies”

Christa Päffgen wrote (I)

•Abril 20, 2011 • Deixe um Comentário

Und plötzlich sieht der Himmel aus wie Blut
Und plötzlich sieht die Sonne aus wie Glut
Das lassen uns Götter doch nicht zu
Sagen die Gelehrten
Sagen die Gelehrten

Das hat es früher nicht gegeben
Mit Macht der Menschheit ihres Sinnes zu berauben
Das lassen uns Götter doch nicht zu
Sagen die Gelehrten
Sagen die Gelehrten

Die Strafe ist nicht hoch genug
Die brauchen doch kein Licht zum Sterben
Es sieht ihnen doch niemand dabei zu

Und plötzlich sieht der Himmel aus wie Blut
Und plötzlich sieht die Sonne aus wie Glut
Mit Gewalt Mitleid zu erregen
Das lassen uns Götter doch nicht zu
Sagen die Gelehrten
Sagen die Gelehrten

Und niemand lehnt sich dagegen auf
Dem Teufel seine Spielchen zu verderben
Wie lange kann es überweilen auf Erden

—————————

And suddenly the sky looks like blood
And suddenly the sun looks like embers
The gods do not allow us to but
The scholars say
The scholars say

This had not previously given
With power to deprive humanity of its meaning
The gods do not allow us to but
The scholars say
The scholars say

The penalty is not high enough
The need to die but no light
They see no one here to

And suddenly the sky looks like blood
And suddenly the sun looks like embers
To provoke violence with compassion
The gods do not allow us to but
The scholars say
The scholars say

And no one is leaning on the other hand,
To destroy the devil’s games
How long it can stay on earth

Nico, in “Sagen Die Gelehrten”

The Broken Window

•Agosto 16, 2010 • Deixe um Comentário

My heart is silent as a look.
There is a home beyond the hills.
My heart is silent as a look.
My home is there, beyond the hills.

I bear my heart like an old curse.
There is no reason for regret.
I bear my heart like an old curse.
Why should we reason or regret?

My heart dwells in me like a ghost.
Beyond the hills my hope lies dead.
My heart dwells in me like a ghost.
Beyond my hope the hills lie dead.

They took away my heart like weeds.
It was not true that I should live.
They took away my heart like weeds.
I could not think it true to live.

Now there are great stains in my heart.
They are like blood‑stains on a floor.
Now there are great stains in my heart.
And my heart lies upon the floor.

The room is closed for ever now.
My heart is now buried alive.
My heart is closed for ever now.
The whole room is buried alive.

Fernando Pessoa, in “The Mad Fiddler” | Poesia Inglesa

Elegia a Rilke

•Fevereiro 14, 2010 • Deixe um Comentário

A doença deixara-o enfraquecido e o seu corpo amadurecia na fragilidade de uma criança, embora a alma de nada fosse pequena e pálida. Decidiu respirar o ar que, estacionado na tarde junto ao seu castelo, sugeriu às pernas debilitadas moverem-se para assistir à contemplação do jardim esbranquiçado pelas rosas nascidas entre as camadas ténues da neve. A brisa gélida, cujo assobio rompia os campos e as pedras, empurrou a sua mão levando-a a suster uma delas. Oh carícia celeste o toque dos seus dedos em oferenda à violência dos angustiados lábios do espinho.

As salas (I)

•Dezembro 12, 2009 • 1 Comentário

Uma outra sala. Esta que desconheço as dimensões. Ainda o teu rosto, o teu corpo presente. Entre a distância à qual o espaço nos dispôs, uma camada de gelo persistia sem que alguém a tentasse fragmentar. Nem a respiração transpirada e ofegante do meu espírito, inquietado pela magnitude do teu movimento, ousou romper pelas envergonhadas correntes escondidas num silêncio brando e branco.
E quanto desejei suster a minha atormentada cabeça no teu ombro.
“Deixa-me adormecer junto ao teu negro casaco”
O tempo perduraria nesse sono. O momento encalhado num passado sem posse.
“Deixa-me acordar no teu olhar. O que vês? De que tamanho sou?”
O teu cabelo era novo. Não me esqueci de pensar o quanto eu gostei do teu cabelo. Não o disse. Queria tocar-lhe. Não o disse, de novo.

(Numa outra sala, a primeira talvez) aguardava sem intenção a tua chegada. Chegaste. Parti.

Os passos levaram-te, então, até ao declive que se encontrava no fundo do corredor de gente. A porta abriu-se. Partiste. Eu, que ainda olhava o chão na ânsia de assistir ao teu reflexo levemente traçado na transparência do piso, perdi um adeus incertamente dito. Um vento glacial afastara o pensamento das tuas mãos.
Ao teu lado, a sombra da minha saudade caminhava.
Perdera-te novamente.

Mild Intoxication

•Setembro 3, 2009 • Deixe um Comentário

saaqii ki har nigaah pe bal khaa ke pee gayaa
laharoN se khelataa huaa lahraa ke pee gayaa
ai rahmat-e-tamaam meri har khata muaaf
main intehaa-e-shauq mein ghabraa ke pee gaya
peetaa beghair izn ye kab thii meri majaal
dar-pardaa chashm-e-yaar kii shah paa ke pee gayaa
zaahid ye merii shokhi-e-rindaana dekhnaa
rahmat ko baaton baaton mein bahlaa ke pee gayaa

(…)

I drank in awe of every glance of the cup-bearer
I drank playfully while playing with waves of joy
O all-merciful! Please forgive all my wrong-doings
I drank confounded of the extreme desire
I do not dare to drink without permission
but the patronage of concealed eyes of my beloved made me drink
O abstinent! Look at the mischievousness of my drinking
I drank after I befriended forgiveness

(…)

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, in “Ye Jo Halka Halka Suroor Hai”