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quarta-feira, 21 de agosto de 2013

Close as two pages

O post de hoje, influenciado pelo filme Flores Raras - que assisti ontem e mais do que recomendo, vai com duas poesias incríveis: uma que a poetisa Elizabeth Bishop, interpretada por Miranda Otto, recita no filme, e a outra que encontrei e que parece complementar a anterior:

"Close close all night
the lovers keep.
They turn together
in their sleep,

close as two pages
in a book
that read each other
in the dark.


Each knows all
the other knows,
learned by heart
from head to toes."

______________________________________

"It is marvellous to wake up together
At the same minute; marvellous to hear
The rain begin suddenly all over the roof,
To feel the air suddenly clear
As if electricity had passed through it
From a black mesh of wires in the sky.
All over the roof the rain hisses,
And below, the light falling of kisses.

An electrical storm is coming or moving away;
It is the prickling air that wakes us up.
If lightning struck the house now, it would run
From the four blue china balls on top
Down the roof and down the rods all around us,
And we imagine dreamily
How the whole house caught in a bird-cage of lightning
Would be quite delightful rather than frightening;

And from the same simplified point of view
Of night and lying flat on one's back
All things might change equally easily,
Since always to warn us there must be these black
Electrical wires dangling. Without surprise
The world might change to something quite different,
As the air changes or the lightning comes without our blinking,
Changes as our kisses are changing without our thinking."

Elizabeth Bishop

Aqui um pouco sobre a vida dela e do Brasil nos anos dourados: http://revistapiaui.estadao.com.br/edicao-35/correspondencia/o-brasil-e-mesmo-um-horror

Um comentário:

  1. The art of losing isn't hard to master;
    so many things seem filled with the intent
    to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

    Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
    of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
    The art of losing isn't hard to master

    Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
    places, and names, and where it was you meant
    to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

    I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
    next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
    The art of losing isn't hard to master.

    I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
    some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
    I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

    - Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
    I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
    the art of losing's not too hard to master
    though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

    ResponderExcluir

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