Sons da Escrita 214



José Saramago (1)
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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.



Retrato do poeta quando jovem (José Saramago)

Há na memória um rio onde navegam
Os barcos da infância, em arcadas
De ramos inquietos que despregam
Sobre as águas as folhas recurvadas.

Há um bater de remos compassado
No silêncio da lisa madrugada,
Ondas brancas se afastam para o lado
Com o rumor da seda amarrotada.

Há um nascer do sol no sítio exacto,
À hora que conta mais duma vida,
Um acordar dos olhos e do tacto,
Um ansiar de sede inextinguida.

Há um retrato de água e de quebranto
Que do fundo rompeu desta memória,
E tudo quanto é rio abre no canto
Que conta do retrato a velha história.





When I was young (Eric Burdon)

The rooms were so much colder then
My father was a soldier then
And times were very hard
When I was young

I smoked my first cigarette at ten
And for girls, I had a bad yen
And I had quite a ball
When I was young

When I was young, it was more important
Pain more painful
Laughter much louder
Yeah, when I was young
When I was young

I met my first love at thirteen
She was brown and I was pretty green
And I learned quite a lot when I was young
When I was young

When I was young, IT WAS MORE IMPORTANT
Pain more painful
Laughter much louder
Yeah, when I was young
When I was young

My faith was so much stronger then
I believed in fellow men
And I was so much older then
When I was young
When I was young
When I was young



Se não tenho outra voz (José Saramago)

Se não tenho outra voz que me desdobre
Em ecos doutros sons este silêncio,
É falar, ir falando, até que sobre
A palavra escondida do que penso.

É dizê-la, quebrado, entre desvios
De flecha que a si mesma se envenena,
Ou mar alto coalhado de navios
Onde o braço afogado nos acena.

É forçar para o fundo uma raiz
Quando a pedra cabal corta caminho,
É lançar para cima quanto diz
Que mais árvore é o tronco mais sozinho.

Ela dirá, palavra descoberta,
Os ditos do costume de viver:
Esta hora que aperta e desaperta,
O não ver, o não ter, o quase ser.





Almost (One Sad Horse)

I´m trying to hear what you say
I´ve tried not to get in your way
but I can´t get over you
no, I can´t get over you

I tried to forget you were mine
tried to leave you behind
but I can´t get over you
no, I can´t get over you

I just can´t go on like this
go on like this
but I just can´t move on

Sometimes it´s almost ok
sometimes I feel like I´ll drown
sometimes I wish that we never met
but mostly I just wish that you were around

You got your life now, I know
and this was a long time ago
but I can´t get over you
no I can´t get over you

Sometimes it almost ok
I almost feel fine without you around
sometimes I hate you for starting a fire
then watching it all burn down
Sometimes it´s almost ok
sometimes I feel like I´ll drown
sometimes I wish that we never met
but mostly I just wish that you were around



Passado, presente, futuro (José Saramago)

Eu fui. Mas o que fui já me não lembra:
Mil camadas de pó disfarçam, véus,
Estes quarenta rostos desiguais,
Tão marcados de tempo e macaréus.

Eu sou. Mas o que sou tão pouco é:
Rã fugida do charco, que saltou,
E no salto que deu, quando podia,
O ar dum outro mundo a rebentou.

Falta ver, se é que falta, o que serei:
Um rosto recomposto antes do fim,
Um canto de batráquio, mesmo rouco,
Uma vida que corra assim-assim.





Past present and future (Shangri-las)

The past, past, well now let me tell you about the past
The past is filled with silent joys and broken toys,
laughing girls and teasing boys,
Was I ever in love? I called it love- I mean, it felt like love,
There were moments when, well, there were moments when

Present, Go out with you? Why not
Do I like to dance? Of Course,
Take a walk along the beach tonight? I'd love to,
But don't try to touch me, don't try to touch me
Cos that will never happen again,
Shall we dance

The future, Tommorow? well tommorows a long way off
Maybe someday I'll have somebody's hand
Maybe somewhere someone will understand
You know I used to sing- a tisket a tasket a green and yellow basket
I'm all packed up and I'm on my way and I'm gonna fall in love,
But at the moment it doesn't look good
At the moment it will never happen again

I don't think it will ever happen again.





As palavras mais simples, mais comuns,
As de trazer por casa e dar de troco,
Em língua doutro mundo se convertem:
Basta que, de sol, os olhos do poeta,
Rasando, as iluminem.



Com amizade: Davy Spillane, Clannad, Giovanni Marradi, Green Lake, Eric Burdon, One Sad Horse, Shangri-las, José Saramago 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 - março 9, 2009 at 05:17 PM          

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