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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

EE Cummings - Spring is like a perhaps hand

     III

 

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here) and

 

changing everything carefully

 

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there) and

 

without breaking anything.

e.e. cummings - i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                                              i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

 

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

 

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

E.E. Cummings - I Will Wade Out

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

E. E. Cummings - i like my body

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which I will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh... And eyes big love-crumbs,

 

and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you quite so new

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

(E.E. Cummings)

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
 (touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

 (i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

A Poesia de "Em Silêncio, Amor"

Vozes variadas atormentam Tom ao longo de "Em Silêncio, Amor" e se bem que em português, no livro, são no original em inglês e vale a pena creditá-las.

Comecemos pela música. A primeira voz, na Livraria Branquinho, é a de Tom Waits, que canta "Alice", do seu álbum do mesmo nome.

…I'll disappear in your name, but you must wait for me
somewhere across the sea, there’s the wreck of a ship… (pág. 42)

… And so a secret kiss brings madness with the bliss
and I will think of this when I’m dead in my grave… (pág. 44)

… And I must be insane, to go skating on your name
and by tracing it twice, I fell through the ice… (pág. 45)

"Hallelujah", de Leonard Cohen, dá nome a todo um capítulo. Poema extenso de que o autor e outros cantam apenas alguns versos seleccionados, é citado directamente.

I've seen this room and I’ve walked this floor,
you know, I used to live alone before I knew you (pág. 88)

O resto são "apenas" poemas e que eu saiba nunca serviram de letra a nenhuma canção, mas tal como na voz de Elisa e outras, envolvem Tom na dança do seu som.
A sua leitura acompanhou-me durante a escrita do livro e, de uma maneira ou de outra, as suas palavras acabaram por surgir no texto.
Uma breve nota para assumir a sua "tradução", capaz de ressoar entre Tom e Elisa e mais preocupada com isso do que com qualquer ideia de fidelidade.

So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. (pág. 60) do poema Tears, Idle Tears, de Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Do poema somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond de E. E. Cummings (o poema que Elisa queria ouvir no seu funeral), aparecem vários versos:

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence: (pág. 64)

rendering death and forever with each breathing (pág. 65)

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands (pág. 66)

your slightest look will easily unclose me (pág. 68)

De Out of the Craddle Endlessly Rocking de Walt Whitman, surge na página 69 o verso From under that yellow half moon, late risen, and swollen as if with tears

Do belíssimo poema de Dylan Thomas Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night ouvimos na página 176 o princípio, na voz gravada de Tom e na página 73, o verso Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

O poema mais famoso da poetisa Elizabeth Bishop, One Art aparece na página 89

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

Na mesma página, And that has made all the difference, do poema The Road Not Taken, o clássico de Robert Frost que sempre me lembra o "sei que não vou por aí" de José Régio.

Dylan Thomas volta à página 120 com This Side of Truth

This side of the truth,
You may not see, my son,
King of your blue eyes
In the blinding country of youth,

Do mesmo poema, na página 123:

And all your deeds and words,
Each truth, each lie,
Die in unjudging love.

O poema 22 de Emily Dickinson aparece na página 144:

I gave myself to him,
And took himself for pay.
The solemn contract of a life
Was ratified this way

So let us melt, and make no noise, é do mais antigo dos poetas representados, John Donne, no poema A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning, na página 156. E na página seguinte, a variação de Adrienne Rich:

I could say: those mountains have a meaning
but further than that I could not say

E pronto. Não mais sobre estes poemas, que são assunto para se ler e não de que falar.