segunda-feira, 29 de agosto de 2011

através da poesia

ele era poeta
escrevia como se pudesse tê-la

ela transparecia em seus olhos, rosto e suspiros
a vontade que sentia ao lê-lo
como se imaginasse
que pudesse ser a sua única inspiração
como se ousasse crer
que todos aqueles poemas tivessem sido escritos para ela

ela era poeta
escrevia aflita
escrevia porque sem a poesia se sentia incompleta
e também porque era esse o jeito que havia encontrado
de se despir para ele
de deixá-lo saber como ela se sentia,
tudo o que doía nela

ele a lia
procurando nas poesias
entender o silêncio da menina

se comunicavam por poesias
e who knows someday,
como ele sempre lhe dizia..

3 comentários:

  1. New poems at last. I have read them twice now and I really really liked them, they are so good. I will not be able to comment on them all tonight, over the next few days perhaps. But they left me with a feeling that they are all tied together, like a symphony, they are about different things and different people, but there is a link, perhaps your need to find you? To find your space, or (lost) loves, missing people, dreaming about things that happened, and a little bit of sadness..? And of course the importance of poetry. So this is perhaps why I likeed this one so much, you describe in it how important poetry is to you, how necessary it is to you and - though perhaps I am reading between the lines to much, how you really need it, without it life is too hard, complex, every unbearable?? But out of this pain, complexity, confusion, you create beauty, poetry.. a gift

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  2. I know I already commented on this one, but I can't resist writing another one :-) This poem, as i said, really touched me deeply, it felt almost as if you were writing things I thought, which can be scary. I especially like the third-last and second-last verses (ele a lia/procurando nas poesias/entender o silencio da mesma).. this really means something to me.. I could almost cry reading this. I had better stop know, before i write anything too silly!!!

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  3. I came across this poem/song this mornign on my computer. I dont fully understand it, but I think it is appropriate, and maybe it will inspire you :-) Enjoy... there are lots of videos of it on You Tube if you want to listen
    Les Poetes - Jean Ferrat
    Je ne sais ce qui me possède
    Et me pousse à dire à voix haute
    Ni pour la pitié ni pour l'aide
    Ni comme on avouerait ses fautes
    Ce qui m'habite et qui m'obsède

    Celui qui chante se torture
    Quels cris en moi quel animal
    Je tue ou quelle créature
    Au nom du bien au nom du mal
    Seuls le savent ceux qui se turent

    Machado dort à Collioure
    Trois pas suffirent hors d'Espagne
    Que le ciel pour lui se fît lourd
    Il s'assit dans cette campagne
    Et ferma les yeux pour toujours

    Au-dessus des eaux et des plaines
    Au-dessus des toits des collines
    Un plain-chant monte à gorge pleine
    Est-ce vers l'étoile Hölderlin
    Est-ce vers l'étoile Verlaine

    Marlowe il te faut la taverne
    Non pour Faust mais pour y mourir
    Entre les tueurs qui te cernent
    De leurs poignards et de leurs rires
    A la lueur d'une lanterne

    Etoiles poussières de flammes
    En août qui tombez sur le sol
    Tout le ciel cette nuit proclame
    L'hécatombe des rossignols
    Mais que sait l'univers du drame

    La souffrance enfante les songes
    Comme une ruche ses abeilles
    L'homme crie où son fer le ronge
    Et sa plaie engendre un soleil
    Plus beau que les anciens mensonges

    Je ne sais ce qui me possède
    Et me pousse à dire à voix haute
    Ni pour la pitié ni pour l'aide
    Ni comme on avouerait ses fautes
    Ce qui m'habite et qui m'obsède

    Paroles: Louis Aragon. Musique: Jean Ferrat

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