Sons da Escrita 204



Fernando Assis Pacheco (2)
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Compasso a compasso, palavra a palavra, alinham-se, rigorosos, os sons da escrita.

Quando um homem interroga a água pura dos sentidos e ousa caminhar, serenamente, os esquecidos atalhos de todas as memórias, acontecem viagens — viagens entre o quase tudo e o quase nada.

Então, da raíz dos nervos da memória surge a planta de uma vida escutada no silêncio dos sons da escrita.

Sons da Escrita – à volta de uma ideia de José-António Moreira.



A profissão dominante (Fernando Assis Pacheco)

Meu Deus como eu sou paraliterário
à quinta-feira véspera do jornal
nadando em papel como num aquário
ejectando a minha bolha pontual

de prosa tirada do receituário
onde aprendi o cozido nacional
do boçal fingido o lapidário
— fora algum deslize gramatical —

receio que me chamem extraordinário
quando esta é uma prática trivial
roçando mesmo o parasitário
meu Deus dá-me a tua ajuda semanal





God, give me strength (Alison Moyet)

Now I have nothing, so God give me strength,
'Cause I'm weak in his way,
and if I'm strong, I might still break.
And I don't have anything to share
That I won't throw away into the air.
That song is sung out.
This bell is rung out.
He was the light that I'd bless.
He took my last chance at happiness.
So God give me strength.
God give me strength.
I can't hold on to him.
God give me strength.
When the phone doesn't ring
And I'm lost in imagining
Everything that kind of love is worth
As I tumble back down to the earth.
That song is sung out.
This bell is rung out.
He was the light that I'd bless.
He took my last chance at happiness.
So God give me strength.
God, if he'd grant me his indulgence and decline,
I might as well wipe him from my memory.
Fracture the spell as he becomes my enemy.
Maybe I was washed out
Like a lip print on a shirt.
See, I'm only human, I want him to hurt.
I want him to hurt.
Since I lost the power to pretend
That there could ever be a happy ending.
That song is sung out.
This bell is rung out.
He was the light that I'd bless.
He took my last chance at happiness.
So God give me strength.
God give me strength.



Soneto contra as pesporrências (Fernando Assis Pacheco)

É favor não pedirem a esta poesia
que faça o jeito às alegadas tendências
do tempo nem às vãs experiências
que sempre a deixaram de mão fria

o que iria bem mas mesmo bem seria
num jornal a coluna das ocorrências
as coisas da vida mais que as pesporrências
editoriais do comentador do dia

o que vai mal com ela são as petulâncias
de que se vestem muitas redundâncias
dando-se públicos ares de sabedoria

que o leitor farto das arrogâncias
magistrais troca por outras instâncias
onde pode mandá-las pra casa da tia





News (Dire Straits)

He sticks to his guns
he take the road as it comes
It take the shine off his shoes
He says it's a shame
You know it may be a game
Ah but I won't play to loose
He's burning the grass
Ha take up a glass
He swallow it neat
He crosses the floor
he open the door
He take a sniff of the street
And then she tell him that he's crazy
She's a-saying hey baby
I'm your wife
Yeah she tell him that he's crazy
For gambling a-with his life
But he climbs on his horse
You know he feel no remorse
he just kicks it alive
His motor is fine
He take it over the line
Until he's ready to dive
And she tell him that he's crazy
Yes she's saying listen baby
I'm your wife
Yeah she tell him that he's crazy
For gambling with his life
He sticks to his guns
He take the road as it comes
It take the shine off his shoes
He say it's a shame
You know it may be a game
Ah but I won't play to loose
He sticks to his guns
He take the road as it comes
It take the shine off his shoes
He's too fast to stop
He take it over the top
He make a line in the news



Interior com cão (Fernando Assis Pacheco)

A velhice, aprender-lhe esses primeiros sinais
o cabelo «de prata» caindo agora um tudo nada mais
no lavatório ou simplesmente
ao deitar-se na cama o coração «que salta»
a moleza das pernas

não consolação nisto nenhuma
nem um crédito a favor
quando cotejadas as situações
(velhos nos asilos senhoras de preto à esmola
subindo a Rua Garrett)

a constatação dos anos «feitos
entre si para me perderem»
uma quase também
melancolia matadora

toda a máscara sufoca?

mas não para escapar a isto
usei-as talvez

quando me sento
à mesa e vejo aqui diante
do papel branco as unhas devastadas
como por um ácido

dentro do cesto o cão da casa
também já passa manhãs
à espera do sol quente





You Lie Down With Dogs (Alan Parsons Project & Lenny Zakatek)

You're such a cool woman but I love you
Such a cruel woman but I love you
Open up your eyes and realise
You're such a fool woman but I love you
But you give me all that you've got to give
Cause it sure feels good to me

I'm not your only man I'm just your lover
Not your only man just another
Open up your eyes and realise
I'm gonna take what I can like any other
Cause it don't mean a thing to me

Well
You lie down with dogs you fall in with thieves
You're gonna catch something but you do as you please
You're scratchin' an itch that nothing can ease
You lie down with dogs you get up with fleas

Get out and find yourself another lover
Why don't you find yourself another lover
Open up your eyen and realise
You don't mean nothing to me I'm not your mother
You gave me all that you had to give
But there's a whole lotta fish in the sea

Well
You lie down with dogs you fall in with thieves
You're gonna catch something but you do as you please
You're scratchin' an itch that nothing can ease
You lie down with dogs you get up with fleas





Este ministro é um mentiroso
que agonia quando ele discursa
e se fosse só isso: bale sem jeito
às meias horas seguidas – e não pára!

bem-aventurados os duros de ouvido
a quem o céu abrirá as portas
desliguem p.f. o microfone
ou então tirem o país da ficha



Com amizade: Davy Spillane, David Van Tieghem, Zak Kalmar, Andreas Vollenweider, Alison Moyet, Dire Straits, Alan Parsons Project, Fernando Assis Pacheco e José-António Moreira

Sejam felizes!, pelo menos, nos próximos minutos, nas próximas horas, nos próximos dias… no resto das vossas vidas, se forem capazes!

And in the end
the love you'll take
is equal to the love you make

Posted: seg - dezembro 29, 2008 at 12:05 AM          

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