sexta-feira, 20 de abril de 2012

Lilases

1.

Lilases
impessoais
transfigurados
atirados sobre a terra
sem memória
esquecidos.
Raízes se movem
sob o solo.
Nenhum inverno arrancará
as sementes de seu seio.
Permanecerão imóveis
esperando a primavera.

2.

Minha sombra dá longos passos atrás de mim.
Não espero mais encontrar-te ao acaso pelas ruas.
Não acendo mais a lareira
para aquecer o quarto
e encolho-me de frio
sem luz
sem qualquer motivo.
Não tenho medo.
Tudo que conheci foi-se no pó.
Atravesso as ruas em diagonal
para não me surpreender com ninguém
na contramão.


3.

Teu coração espreita o silêncio.
Bate lentamente, enquanto a tarde se arrasta,
porque nada esperamos
para daqui à meia hora.
O que vier, será novo.
E o que restar, terá sobrevivido.


4.

As pérolas eram os teus olhos, veja
como deslizam sobre o pano úmido.
Sempre que vieres,
será como a primeira vez.
Nada será igual a este momento.
Nada se repetirá.



5.

Deves temer a morte na água.
A água vem e te cobre.
Verás teu ser se dissolver
e serás parte do oceano.
Quantas flores umedecerás
quantos potes transbordarás sem cuidado.
Teme a água
como teu quinto elemento.
Teu inimigo dentro de ti.


6.

Multidões caminham em círculo
e eu me apaziguo em te ver contra a janela
olhando a multidão que passa.
Tudo passa sob nossos olhos incrédulos.
Moldamos nossas faces
com o sal que restou das vazantes.
Tens outro rosto agora.
Revisito-te como um desconhecido
diante de máscaras mortuárias.


7.

Cidade
que realidade te criou
no ventre aberto
de tua mãe morta?
Cidade submersa na neblina –
um inferno de poeira e ressentimento.


8.

Jogam xadrez
as peças caem sobre o tabuleiro.
A rainha visita o rei
e o rouxinol rompe o deserto
com seu canto.
Ela se debruça sobre ele
e sussurra-lhe ao ouvido:
– Ouve-me, querido,
serei tua escrava, se fores meu amigo.
O silêncio se refaz e a treva se molda
sob os assentos de mármore.
Passos se arrastam e carregam
os mortos consigo.
Tudo está feito e nada se sabe.
As palavras se fundem novamente
cerrando olhares que se entrecruzam
e movendo as mãos
sob o manto imóvel.


9.

Fala comigo.
Eu preciso que fales comigo.
Fica comigo e não duvides de mim.
Fala comigo.
Eu serei teu amigo
e nunca te abandonarei.


10.

O vento passa sob nossas portas fechadas.
e não me lembro de nada.
Lembrar-me de quê?
O que eu me lembrar
ainda fará parte de minha alma.
E esta alma não será minha
enquanto tiver de me lembrar
de qualquer coisa.


11.

Que faremos amanhã?
Que faremos em qualquer dia
daqui por diante?
Todos os dias serão iguais
e não teremos certeza de nada.
Pensaremos que somos os mesmos
e não saberemos o que fazer.
Estaremos atados à mesma árvore
que se move ao vento.
Jogamos xadrez
enquanto ninguém vem bater à porta.


12.

O fogo não nos aquece.
Nossas mãos esfriam
assim que chegam as notícias.
Nada novo, tudo igual.
Ouvimos até o fim
as novidades.
Para que tanta algazarra?
O que queríamos que fosse?
Quando menos se espera, os diques se rompem
e as águas voltam a fluir como antes.
As margens inundam-se novamente,
cortando a terra por onde
andávamos.


13.

Irreal
a cidade avança sobre a planície.
Antes tivéssemos ouvido
o canto dos rios
andado descalços
sobre as fendas
bailado
como déspotas esclarecidos.
Seremos sempre aqueles
que trazem as novas,
os que buscam
sem encontrar.
Estaremos sempre buscando
e não precisaremos encontrar nada.


14.

Lavamos os pés
e nos abaixamos para pegar os sapatos.
A água estava fria.
Olhamo-nos e rimos,
porque nunca havíamos feito isso antes.
Cúmplices,
continuamos caminhando
de volta para casa.


15.

Olho para fora enquanto espero.
O coração palpita enquanto caminho
contra as pessoas que passam.
Arrumo os papéis sobre a mesa,
coloco os livros de volta na estante,
empilho as xícaras de café
para lavá-las depois.
À janela, olho perigosamente para fora
e vejo um último raio de sol
refletindo do outro lado do edifício.
Observei tudo e esperei.


16.

Também esperei que viesses.
Poderia ser cedo ou tarde demais,
mas não importava.
Sentei-me no sofá
junto à janela
e lancei um último beijo
no corredor sem luz.



17.

Volto-me e olho-me novamente ao espelho.
Recomponho o cabelo com as mãos
e apago as marcas do rosto.
Eu fui o que fui, porque quis,
mas não preciso carregá-lo comigo.
Esquece.


18.

Deslizo ao teu lado sobre as águas.
Deslizo sobre teu peito como vento.
Deslizo e apago meu nome das areias.
Desço do elefante
e passeio à beira d’água.
Às vezes, me esqueço de ti,
às vezes, te ouço.
Estou ao teu lado, mesmo aqui.


19.

O rio corre.
Estamos à popa,
os cabelos revoltos
a olhar o cais que se afasta.
Deixamos para trás as casas,
as vozes,
as mesmices de sempre
perdidas na distância,
que nos afasta do cais.


20.

O que estava aqui agora não está.
É preciso paciência para estarmos vivos,
a dormência a desfiar
o mesmo novelo de antes.
Nada mais existe, somente a espera.
A espera e outra longa caminhada pela frente.
Paramos entre as árvores
e ouvimos a água correr,
cortando o silêncio.


21.

O que passa deixa rastros,
o que passa deixa marcas,
suspiros, antes de nos envolvermos
com cartas,
papéis, mantas, traços, riscos,
palavras colhidas na penumbra
de outra manhã prenunciada.
Depois retornamos aos jardins,
onde passeiam as senhoras,
as crianças,
os homens encasacados,
com seus chapéus altos e bengalas escuras,
lenços, mangas bordadas em linho,
o silêncio pairando sobre os bancos de pedra,
secando ao sol,
iluminados,
pousados no eterno.

domingo, 13 de junho de 2010

22 Eu caminho ao teu lado | I walk beside you

EU CAMINHO AO TEU LADO
Mesmo que não me vejas
eu caminho ao teu lado
Passos sem som
água sem música
luar a deslizar sobre as florestas
vento úmido contra paredes ruídas
Por isso temos sido o que somos:
vastos sem termos partido
infinitos sem abandonar nosso íntimo
comovidos mesmo sem encontrar as respostas
Eu teria te respondido
mas não me ouvias mais
Sentei-me perto de ti
e pus minha mão sobre a tua
Tua mão fria dentro da minha
Por trás de mim, outra tarde terminava
Nenhum de nós saberá
Te darei o que é teu
O que é meu, eu não possuo.
*
São Paulo, Bloomsday, 16 de junho de 1997
*
I WALK BESIDE YOU
Even when you don’t see me
I walk beside you
Soundless steps
musicless waters
moonlight drifting over forests
cool wind against ruined walls
This is why we are this
Vast and steady
Infinite and confident
Moving and speechless
I could have answered you
but you wouldn’t have listened to me
I sat beside you
and put my hand over your hand
Your cold hand in mine
Behind me another day was over
None of us will ever know
I’ll give you what is yours
Whatever is mine does not belong to me.
*
São Paulo, Bloomsday, June 16, 1997

NOTES ABOUT THE TRANSLATION, by Dominic Tomassetti

Lilacs

impersonal

transfigured

memoryless

cast aside

forgotten

Roots moving inside the earth

under the summer rain

No winter can take

the seeds away from its bosom

They’ll stay motionless

waiting for the spring

*

This is perfect. I think it should stay as it is. Every word in each line builds one-upon-another to the climax of spring. Anyone familiar with The Waste Land will understand your references from the death of Phlebas by Eliot to your allusion to the lilacs awaiting birth in spring, which I take to mean a rebirth of a person cast aside also. That may be reading too much into your lines but I believe it hints toward that direction.

3 July 2000

De Dominic Tomassetti (2)

My shadow strides behind my back

I don’t walk in the streets hoping to meet you again

I no longer heat the room

I cramp in the cold

lights off

without any reason to do so

I am fearless now

All I knew has been blown away

I transcross the streets

so no one will surprise me

walking down the same way

*

In this part of the poem I find two parts that stop me or slow down my reading – the contraction don’t for do not - and perfectly all right to use but how does the sense work for you?

*

“I don’t walk in the streets hoping to meet you again”

*

The sentence may be overlong or thirteen syllables. Compare eight and seven before and after this sentence and three syllables at most in the lines of the first part of your poem. I think you should be building your lines up to longer lines more slowly, the poem will read quicker just as your early efforts. There is no real rule here. It is something that you must decide is saying what you have on your mind. Again, if “don’t” is the word here then I would avoid repeating “don’t” in the third line below. My rule is not to use any single word too often in a poem or at least so close together. Does that make sense to you?

*

How about writing it like this –

*

[I no longer walk the streets hoping to meet you]

I no longer heat the room

I cramp in the cold

*

The word “again” is redundant and unnecessary because you no longer walk for that reason, and “in the” can be cut. The whole is shorter only by one syllable but seems to make a difference, nor does it affect your personal style.

*

We come to line number six in this stanza: “without any reason to do so” I suggest dropping “to do so” because you really don’t need to say the, “without any reason” is sufficient. Then we come to “transcross” which I believe, Marge mentioned before. It is not a common English word and has an unfamiliar sound to it. I am only making suggestions. Do you have or can you get a copy of (English copy) The New Roget’s Thesaurus in Dictionary Form in Brazil or a similar thesaurus?

*

In Roget’s the adverb is transverse. But I don’t think that is what you appear to be saying. It has criss-cross and recross as verbs etc.

So, let’s look:

*

My shadow strides behind my back

I no longer walk the streets hoping to meet you

I no longer heat the room

I cramp in the cold

lights off

without any reason

I am fearless now

All I knew has been blown away

I [cross] the streets

[To avoid surprise]

[On the same path]

*

I would suggest you work this last part out. Of course I don’t know how you would say it in Portuguese. In English it is too cumbersome for poetry. Thereza, if you are anything you are a poet of the right word. Think of three things, exact meaning, the connotation and the music. Your last three lines need the music of poetry and then this part is finished as far as I can tell.

*

so no one will surprise me

walking down the same way

[To avoid surprise]

[On the same path]

*

3 July 2000

*

Your heart peeps in silence

beating slowly while the afternoon lingers

as we don’t expect anything to happen in half an hour

Whatever happens will be new

And whatever remains will have survived

*

The word peeps was brought to your attention by Marge and I have to agree. It is not the right word. Try “moves” in silence. You may try an analogous word for the heart – waits? Heaves would seem like heavy breathing! Pumps sounds more like fire trucks! Drop “as” from the text. That is all you need to do here.

*

Your heart [ ] in silence

beating slowly while the afternoon lingers

we don’t expect anything to happen in half an hour

Whatever happens will be new

And whatever remains will have survived

*

I must get some sleep it is late. I will send part of this off to you soon.

3 July 2000

De Dominic Tomassetti (3)

The pearls were your eyes, see

how they slide on the humid cloth

Every time you see me

will be as first

Nothing compares to this moment

Nothing will ever be the same

*

You should fear death by water

The water comes and takes you

You’ll see your body dissolve

and you’ll be part of the ocean

watering so many flowers

carelessly filling so many pots

You should fear the water

as your fifth element

The enemy inside of you

*

Multitudes walk in circle

and I feel easy as I see you by the window

looking at them as they go by

Everything moves under our unbelieving eyes

as our faces were molded

by the salt of the ebb tide

You look different now

Like a stranger

before death masks

*

Multitudes walk in [circle]

Multitudes walk in circles

*

In the American language circle should read “circles” – going round and round.

Next, using “by” twice one word is right above the other and the lines would probably read better as

*

and I feel easy as I see you [by] the window

looking at them as they go [by]

*

and I feel easy as I see you near the window

looking at them as they go by

*

4 July 2000

De Dominic Tomassetti (4)

City

what reality could create you

in your dead mother’s open

womb?

The city lying under the blazing sun

under the mist of transformation

Metalinguistic metamorphosis

A hell of dust and resentment

*

I think this is good. I am wondering about the placement of womb alone like the word City. If you are emphasizing the word it works OK. It reads well and has much in power relating a city with that of a dead mother’s womb and the blazing sun.

*

I understand that the free verse (vers libre) style of writing can be both an easy and a difficult way of writing, yet we must always be conscious of the form we use. Everything must appear consistent throughout because a sudden departure may call more attention to the form than is needed.

4 July 2000

De Dominic Tomassetti (5)

They played chess

as the broken pieces were laid

on the board

The queen called on the king

[and]the nightingale flew [singing]

through the [open] desert

She leaned over him

and whispered in his ear:

“Listen, dearest

Be my friend and I’ll be your slave.”

The silence [flung] backwards

and the shadows hid under the marble seats

[Steps groveled] and bore the dead with them

All has been done and nothing is known

The words melted again

crossing crisp[ing] glances

and [searching] moving hands

under the immovable mantle

*

I think you should drop a few words here to avoid wordiness yet still be simple and direct. Also clarity – who are “They” who played chess? The king and queen? And who whispered into the king’s ear, the queen or the nightingale? These may be apparent to you the writer but the reader needs a bit more explanation. Desert is usually understood to be barren, wide open space. Avoid the redundant (repetitive) word. The silence flew backwards would be better usage.

*

“Steps groveled and bore the dead with them” – at first it might seem right to say that steps grovel but in reality, they do not. How would you say this differently? Figures of speech are imaginative expressions but they should be pleasing to the sense or they will not work. A simile or metaphor that is too vague fails. Percy Bysshe Shelley, the great English poet wrote, “Like an embodied joy whose race is just begun.” As Jane Shaw Whitfield pointed out in her book The Poet’s Manual and Rhyming Dictionary [Thomas Y. Crowell & Co, NY 1965], “What is an embodied joy? What kind of race could possibly be meant?

*

crossing crisp[ing] glances

and [searching] moving hands

under the immovable mantle

This last part is a bit too cryptic. It is hard to understand.

crossing crisp[ing] glances

and [searching] moving hands

[searched] under the immovable mantle

*

You could also leave out crisp or crisping altogether here.

4 July 2000