21.8.08
In the years when we wereall children, this incliningto be alone so much was gentle;others' time passed fighting,and one had one's faction,one's near, one's far-off place,a path, an animal, a picture. And I still imagined, that lifewould always keep providingfor one to dwell on things within,Am I within myself not in what's greatest?Shall what's mine no longer sootheand understand me as a child? Suddenly I'm as if cast out,and this solitude surrounds meas something vast and unbounded,when my feeling, standing on the hillsof my breasts, cries out for wingsor for an end.
Rainer Maria Rilke - outra vez, claro.
Translated by Edward SnowWent out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
- W.B. Yeats
17.8.08
WHEN ONE HAS LIVED
A LONG TIME ALONE
1
When one has lived a long time alone,
one refrains from swatting the fly
and let's him go, and one hesitates to strike
the mosquito, though more than willing to slap
the flesh under her, and one lifts the toad
from the pit too deep to hop out of
and carries him to the grass, without minding
the poisoned urine he slicks his body with,
and one envelops, in a towel, the swift
who fell down the chimney and knocks herself
against window glass and releases her outside
and watches her fly free, a life line flung at reality,
When one has lived a long time alone.
2
When one has lived a long time alone,
one grabs the snake behind the head
and holds him until he stops trying to stick
the orange tongue - which splits at the end
into two black filaments and jumps out
like a fire-eater's belches and has little
in common with the pimpled pink lumps that shapes
sounds and sleeps inside the human mouth -
into one's flesh, and clamps it between his jaws,
letting the gaudy tips show, as children do
when concentrating, and as very likely
one does oneself, without knowing it,
when one has lived a long time alone.
3
When one has lived a long time alone,
among regrets so immense the past occupies
nearly all the room there is in consciousness,
one notices in the snake's eyes, which look back
without giving any less attention to the future,
the first coating of the opaque, mikly-blue
leucoma snakes get when about to throw their skins
and become new - meanwhile continuing,
of course, to grow old - the same bleu Passe
that bleaches the corneas of the blue-eyed
when they lie back at the end and look for heaven,
a fading one knows means they will never find it
when one has lived a long time alone.
4
When one has lived along time alone,
one holds the snake near the loudspeaker disgorging
gorgeous sounds and watches him crook
his forepart into four right angles,
as though trying to slow down the music
flowing through him, in order to absorb it
like milk of paradise into the flesh,
until a glimmering appears at his mouth,
such a drop of intense fluid as, among humans,
could form after long exciting at the tip
of the penis, and as he straightens himself out
he has the pathos one finds in the penis,
when one has lived a long time alone.
5
When one has lived a long time alone,
one falls to poring upon a creature,
contrasting it’s eternity’s-face to one’s own
full of hours, taking note of each difference,
exaggerating it, making it everything,
until the other is utterly other, and then,
with hard effort, possibly with tongue sticking out,
going back over each difference once again
and canceling it, seeing nothing now
but likeness, until ... half an hour later
one stares awake, taken aback at how eagerly
one drops off into the happiness of kinship,
when one has lived a long time alone.
6
When one has lived a long time alone
and listens at morning to mourning doves
sound their kyrie eleison, or the small thing
spiritualized upon a twig cry, “pewit-pheobe!”
or at midday grasshoppers scratch the thighs’
needfire awake, or peabody birds send schoolboys’
whistlings across the field, and at dusk, undamped,
unforgiving chinks, as from marble cutters’ chisels,
or at nightfall polliwogs just burst into frogs
raise their ave verum corpus – listens to those
who hop or fly call down upon us the mercy
of other tongues – one hears them as inner voices,
when one has lived a long time alone.
7
When one has lived a long time alone,
one knows that consciousness consummates,
and as the conscious one among these others
uttering their compulsory cries of being here -
the least flycatcher witching up “che-bec!”
or red-headed woodpecker clanging out his music
from a metal drainpipe, or ruffed grouse drumming
“thrump thrump thrump thrump-thrump-
thrump-thrump-rup-rup-ruprup-rup-r-r-r-r-r-r”
deep in the woods, all of them in time’s unfolding
trying to cry themselves into self-knowing -
one knows one is here to hear them into shining,
when one has lived a long time alone.
8
When one has lived a long time alone,
one likes alike the pig, who brooks no deferment
of gratification, and the porcupine, or thorned pig,
who enters the cellar but not the house itself
because of eating down the cellar stairs on the way up,
and one likes the worm, who by bunching herself together
and expanding works her way through the ground,
no less than the butterfly, who totters full of worry
among the day lilies, as they darken,
and more and more one finds one likes
any other species better than one’s own,
which has gone amok, making one self-estranged,
when one has lived a long time alone.
9
When one has lived a long time alone,
sour, misanthropic, one fits to one’s defiance
the satanic boast, it is better to reign
than submit on earth, and forgets
one’s kind – the way by now the snake does,
who stops trying to get to the floor and lingers
all across one’s body – slumping into its contours,
adopting its temperature – and abandons hope
of the sweetness of friendship or love,
before long can barely remember what they are,
and covets the stillness in inorganic matter,
in a self-dissolution one may not know how to halt,
when one has lived a long time alone.
10
When one has lived a long time alone,
and the hermit thrush calls and there is an answer,
and the bullfrog head half out of water repeats
the sexual cantillations of his first spring,
and the snake lowers himself over the threshold
and disappears among the stones, one sees
they all live to mate with their kind, and one knows,
after a long time of solitude, after the many steps taken
away from one’s kind, toward the kingdom of strangers,
the hard prayer inside one’s own singing
is to come back, if one can, to one’s own,
a world almost lost, in the exile that deepens,
when one has lived a long time alone.
11
When one has lived a long time alone,
one wants to live again among men and women,
to return to that place where one’s ties with the human
broke, where the disquiet of death and now also
of history glimmers its firelight on faces,
where the gaze of the new baby looks past the gaze
of the great granny, and where lovers speak,
on lips blowsy from kissing, that language
the same in each mouth, and like birds at daybreak
blether the song that is both earth’s and heaven’s,
until the sun has risen, and they stand
in the light of being made one: kingdom come,
when one has lived a long time alone.
16.8.08
“Spelling (of) grammar (describing) grimoire, (is the) granule (of) sugar (in the) bed game (of) bad llamas. Two (up), yea dagny! (says rand), apples to apples, dust to dust, (and voila) I see dead people, (but in life we are all visitors, so the) guest equals me” (said the bar dude). “Oops” (he said, “I shouldn’t have told you all those universal truths, so with the eggs that were) splattered (around, the bar dude said “the) egg yolk is on me.” (so they) baptized (the bar with yolk… but then)”aaahhh! Aaahhh! Aaahhh!” (and a) burning man (burst forth) running (and) dancing (and) singing (and)… chanting (a) calypso beat. (He was the drummer from the) drum set (and he had a great) pair (of) shoes; converse, puma, (all are worthy at the) jungle gym playground (of my) childhood. (I spent my) summertime counting numbers (on the) letters (in the) mail. (My) penpal (from)
(The) king (of)
(
(the) Copycat mimic (was a) character Actor (from that) movie (where the guy has a) vision (in a) dream. (he’s wearing) Pajamas, (you know,) sleeping. (in a) Slow breath, (he says) “it was me actually”. (he wakes with a jolt and says) “Relax, (stay) calm, (it’s not like the) sea (at) night” (he said), “(I am a) Party animal, wild (and) warlike, (like the) Valkyrie mythology. (I am a shield maiden with) Fantastic divine celestial Power.” (he said), “(I have the) domination (of a) dictator (in an) Autocratic theocracy, (which in effect is a) Medieval castle (with) walls (of) Brick (combined with) mortar, (and a) thatched roof.” (the man, played by
Pajama, Slippers (and) Socks (for) Puppets (all packed). (
(she downloaded the) record (from a website called) hitrecord, (hosted by some guy called) joe. (he had thought
Dexters (lab was the place that
um texto que encontrei no fórum do site www.hitrecord.com. um espaço dedicado a troca e ao incentivo da criatividade.
8.8.08
Chanson des escargots qui vont à l'enterrement.
0 pessoas com insónias rabiscada por Violeta à(s) 10:47A l'enterrement d'une feuille morte
Deux escargots s'en vont
Ils ont la coquille noire
Du crêpe autour des cornes
Ils s'en vont dans le soir
Un très beau soir d'automne
Hélas quand ils arrivent
C'est déjà le printemps
Les feuilles qui étaient mortes
Sont toutes réssucitées
Et les deux escargots
Sont très désappointés
Mais voila le soleil
Le soleil qui leur dit
Prenez prenez la peine
La peine de vous asseoir
Prenez un verre de bière
Si le coeur vous en dit
Prenez si ça vous plaît
L'autocar pour Paris
Il partira ce soir
Vous verrez du pays
Mais ne prenez pas le deuil
C'est moi qui vous le dit
Ça noircit le blanc de l'oeil
Et puis ça enlaidit
Les histoires de cercueils
C'est triste et pas joli
Reprenez vous couleurs
Les couleurs de la vie
Alors toutes les bêtes
Les arbres et les plantes
Se mettent a chanter
A chanter a tue-tête
La vrai chanson vivante
La chanson de l'été
Et tout le monde de boire
Tout le monde de trinquer
C'est un très joli soir
Un joli soir d'été
Et les deux escargots
S'en retournent chez eux
Ils s'en vont très émus
Ils s'en vont très heureux
Comme ils ont beaucoup bu
Ils titubent un petit peu
Mais la haut dans le ciel
La lune veille sur eux.
by WWW.HITRECORD.ORG
6.8.08
First of all, paint a cage
with an opened little door
then paint something attractive
something simple
something beautiful
something of benefit for the bird
Put the picture on a tree
in a garden
in a wood
or in a forest
hide yourself behind the tree
silent
immovable...
Sometimes the bird arrives quickly
but sometimes it takes years
Don't be discouraged
wait
wait for years if necessary
the rapidity or the slowness of the arrival
doesn't have any relationship
with the result of the picture
if it comes
keep the deepest silence
wait until the bird enters the cage
and when entered in
Close the door softly with the brush
then remove one by the one all the bars
care not to touch any feather of the bird
Then draw the portrait of the tree
choosing the most beautiful branch
for the bird
paint also the green foliage and the coolness
of the beasts of the grass in the summer's heat
and then, wait that the bird starts singing
If the bird doesn't sing
it's a bad sign
it means that the picture is wrong
but if it sings it's a good sign
it means that you can sign
so you tear with sweetness
a feather from the bird
and write your name in a corner of the painting.
com a porta aberta
pinta a seguir
qualquer coisa bonita
qualquer coisa simples
qualquer coisa bela
qualquer coisa útil
para o pássaro.
agora encosta a tela a uma árvore
num jardim
num bosque
ou até numa floresta
esconde-te atrás da árvore
sem dizeres nada
sem te mexeres…
às vezes o pássaro não demora
mas pode também levar anos
antes que se decida.
Não deves desanimar
espera
espera anos se for preciso
a rapidez ou a lentidão da chegada
do pássaro não tem qualquer relação
com o acabamento do quadro.
Quando o pássaro chegar
se chegar
mergulha no mais fundo silêncio
espera que o pássaro entre na gaiola
e quando tiver entrado
fecha a porta devagarinho
com o pincel
depois
apaga uma a uma todas as grades
com cuidado não vás tocar nalguma das penas
Faz a seguir o retrato da árvore
escolhendo o mais belo dos ramos
para o pássaro
pinta também o verde da folhagem a frescura do vento
e agora espera que o pássaro se decida a cantar
se o pássaro não cantar
é mau sinal
é sinal que o quadro não presta
mas se cantar é bom sinal
sinal de que podes assinar
então arranca com muito cuidado
uma das penas do pássaro
e escreve o teu nome num canto do quadro
All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is when, going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the water's
Monotone.
The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.
2.8.08
“ Emquanto existir nas leis e nos costumes uma condemnação social que cria infernos artificiaes em plena civilisação, juntando ao destino – que é divino por natureza – um fatalismo que provém dos homens; emquanto não forem resolvidos os três problemas do século: - a degradação do homem pela pobreza, o aviltamento da mulher pela fome, a atrofia da creança pelas trevas; emquato continuar em certas classes a asfixia social; ou por outras palavras e sob um ponto de vista mais claro: - emquanto houver no mundo ignorância e miséria, os livros d’esta natureza não são de todo inúteis.”
Hauteville-House – 1º Janeiro de 1862
em referência à obra de Victor Hugo, “Os Miseráveis”
