pequenos animais sem expressão
Literatura e outros começos
sexta-feira, 24 de novembro de 2023
Art Objects: Jeanette Winterson
sábado, 18 de novembro de 2023
Messenger: Mary Oliver
My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird-
Equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.
Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
Keep my mind on what matters,
Which is my work,
Which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,
Which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
And these body-clothes,
A mouth with which to give shouts of joy
To the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
Telling them all, over and over, how it is
That we live forever.
Emily Dickinson
To the faithful absence is condensed presence.
To the others—
but there are no others
Eu, o Povo: Mutimati Barnabé João
segunda-feira, 7 de novembro de 2022
Três Poemas de Afectos em Ré Menor. Maria Fernanda Morais.
No fundo dos mais belos olhos
eu vislumbro o redondo planeta
mãos que se abrem e deixam nascer
em cada falange um poeta
no fundo dos mais belos olhos
as balas serão palavras
e armas serão canetas
apontadas por poetas
no fundo dos mais belos olhos
não há medo nem terror
as letras são inocentes
cada verso uma flor
***
Dei um beijo
A um beija-flor
Pôs a flor na lapela
Voou e fugiu de mim
Desgostosa eu chorei
Desamparada caí
Outra ave abraçou-me
Beijou-me o bem-te-vi!
Se virem duas aves felizes por aí a esvoaçar, a dar às asas pelo ar,
somos nós, vamos para Taipus-de-Fora!
***
Partilhemos o canto das aves
nas sombras dos jacarandás
o antes e o depois
do verão e do inverno
o meu abraço terno
aos plantadores das árvores
troncos plenos de flor
que nos dão o colorido
ao cego e ao mendigo
perdidos
de amor
Maria Fernanda Morais. Afectos em Ré Menor. A Casa do Livro, Janeiro de 2022.
quinta-feira, 29 de setembro de 2022
When I am among trees: Mary Oliver
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
Mary Oliver.