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domingo, julho 26, 2009

Se for por falta de adeus...


...................Adeus I

...fica no ar
nas roupas e nas poças
até se evaporar...


..................Adeus II

Depois do estio
Vem um perfume
Que como bolhas de sabão
Poca, poca, poca
E sem prevenção
... um adeus!
Fica uma poça
De tudo
No nada
Da estação...


Se É Por Falta De Adeus
Tom Jobim
Composição: Antonio Carlos Jobim / Dolores Duran

"Se é por falta de adeus
Vá se embora desde já
Se é por falta de adeus
Não precisa mais ficar

Seus olhos vivem dizendo
O que você teima em querer esconder
A tarde parece que chora
Com pena de ver
Este sonho morrer

Não precisa iludir
Nem fingir e nem chorar
Não precisa dizer
O que eu não quero escutar

Deixe meus olhos vazios
Vazios de sonhos
E dos olhos seus
Não é preciso ficar
Nem querer enganar
Só por falta de adeus"


by Richard Aldington

"Come, thrust your hands in the warm earth
And feel her strength through all your veins;
Breathe her full odors, taste her mouth,
Which laughs away imagined pains;
Touch her life's womb, yet know
This substance makes your grave also.

Shrink not; your flesh is no more sweet
Than flowers which daily blow and die;
Nor are your mein and dress so neat,
Nor half so pure your lucid eye;
And, yet, by flowers and earth I swear
You're neat and pure and sweet and fair."

The Inventory Of Goodbye
by Anne Sexton

"I have a pack of letters,
I have a pack of memories.
I could cut out the eyes of both.
I could wear them like a patchwork apron.
I could stick them in the washer, the drier,
and maybe some of the pain would float off like dirt?
Perhaps down the disposal I could grind up the loss.
Besides -- what a bargain -- no expensive phone calls.
No lengthy trips on planes in the fog.
No manicky laughter or blessing from an odd-lot priest.
That priest is probably still floating on a fog pillow.
Blessing us. Blessing us.

Am I to bless the lost you,
sitting here with my clumsy soul?
Propaganda time is over.
I sit here on the spike of truth.
No one to hate except the slim fish of memory
that slides in and out of my brain.
No one to hate except the acute feel of my nightgown
brushing my body like a light that has gone out.
It recalls the kiss we invented, tongues like poems,
meeting, returning, inviting, causing a fever of need.
Laughter, maps, cassettes, touch singing its path -
all to be broken and laid away in a tight strongbox.
The monotonous dead clog me up and there is only
black done in black that oozes from the strongbox.
I must disembowel it and then set the heart, the legs,
of two who were one upon a large woodpile
and ignite, as I was once ignited, and let it whirl
into flame, reaching the sky
making it dangerous with its red."


Mote : O Adeus

Inspirado em
Martha Medeiros in Cartas extraviadas e outros poemas
pg. 33

"... o adeus é reencontro

o adeus é festa
do diabo.

o adeus é básico

o adeus é cúmplice
do tempo

o adeus é para sempre !..."

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