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..
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
ResponderExcluirI 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!!!
ResponderExcluirI 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
ResponderExcluirLes 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