Tenho pedido a todos que descansem
De tudo o que cansa e mortifica:
O amor, a fome, o átomo, o câncer.
Tudo vem a tempo no seu tempo.
Tenho pedido às crianças mais sossego
Menos riso e muita compreensão para o brinquedo.
O navio não é trem, o gato não é guizo.
Quero sentar-me e ler nesta noite calada.
A primeira vez que li Franz Kafka
Eu era uma menina. (A família chorava.)
Quero sentar-me e ler mas o amigo me diz:
O mundo não comporta tanta gente infeliz.
Ah, como cansa querer ser marginal
Todos os dias.
Descansem, anjos meus. Tudo vem a tempo
No seu tempo. Também é bom ser simples.
É bom ter nada. Dormir sem desejar
Não ser poeta. Ser mãe. Se não puder ser pai.
Tenho pedido a todos que descansem
De tudo o que cansa e mortifica.
Mas o homem
Não cansa.
Tudo de bom que já foi dito sobre Walt Whitman e sua obra "Folhas da Relva" eu concordo. Por isso o nome deste humilde bloguinho que fala sobre literatura é uma homenagem ao grande poeta que, como disse Borges: "toma e não diz a ninguém a infinita decisão de ser todos os homens e escrever um livro que seja todos".
segunda-feira, 18 de setembro de 2017
domingo, 10 de setembro de 2017
Yehuda Amichai
Um pouco de poesia. Sempre.
What kind of man?
"What kind of man are you?" people ask me.
I am a man with a complex network of pipes in my soul,
sophisticated machineries of emotion
and a precisely-monitored memory system
of the late twentieth century,
but with an old body from ancient days
and a God more obsolete even than my body.
I am a man for the surface of the earth.
Deep places, pits and holes in the ground
make me nervous. Tall buildings
and mountaintops terrify me.
I am not like a piercing fork
nor a cutting knife nor a scooping spoon
nor a flat, wily spatula that sneaks in from underneath.
At most I'm a heavy and clumsy pestle
that mashes good and evil together
for the sake of a little flavor,
a little fragrance.
Guideposts don't tell me where to go.
I conduct my business quietly, diligently,
as if carrying out a long will that began to be written
the moment I was born.
Now I am standing on the sidewalk,
weary, leaning on a parking meter.
I can stand here for free, my own man.
I'm not a car, I'm a human being,
a man-god, a god-man
whose days are numbered. Hallelujah.
What kind of man?
"What kind of man are you?" people ask me.
I am a man with a complex network of pipes in my soul,
sophisticated machineries of emotion
and a precisely-monitored memory system
of the late twentieth century,
but with an old body from ancient days
and a God more obsolete even than my body.
I am a man for the surface of the earth.
Deep places, pits and holes in the ground
make me nervous. Tall buildings
and mountaintops terrify me.
I am not like a piercing fork
nor a cutting knife nor a scooping spoon
nor a flat, wily spatula that sneaks in from underneath.
At most I'm a heavy and clumsy pestle
that mashes good and evil together
for the sake of a little flavor,
a little fragrance.
Guideposts don't tell me where to go.
I conduct my business quietly, diligently,
as if carrying out a long will that began to be written
the moment I was born.
Now I am standing on the sidewalk,
weary, leaning on a parking meter.
I can stand here for free, my own man.
I'm not a car, I'm a human being,
a man-god, a god-man
whose days are numbered. Hallelujah.
sexta-feira, 8 de setembro de 2017
Andrew Solomon - The Stone Boat
Se este homem escrever livro de física quântica ou gastronomia ou anime, eu leio. Brilhante.
"It is not the case that all happy families are the same. I often think that there are no new sad stories; the ways in which my life has been sad are so much like the ways in which the lives of those I know and love have been sad. Perhaps that is just as well: on the analyst's couch or in the muted discourses of friendship, I learn that it is sadness that binds humanity, that the sadness I claim has been claimed, in some version or another, by everyone on earth."
The Stone Boat
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