NOT THE DISEASE

Pardon me, lords and ladies,

if I do not think of myself

as the disease.

Pardon me if I receive the Holy Spirit

without telling you about it.

Pardon me,

Commissars of the West,

if you do not think

I have suffered enough.

 

LOOKING THROUGH MY DREAMS

I was looking through my dreams

when I saw myself

looking through my dreams

looking through my dreams

and so on and so forth

until I was consumed

in the mysterious activity

of expansion and contraction

breathing in and out at the same time

xxx

I did this for 30 years

but I kept coming back

to let you know how bad it felt

 

Now I’m here at the end of the song

the end of the prayer

The ashes have fallen away at last

exactly as they’re supposed to do

 

The chains have slowly

followed the anchors

to the bottom of the sea

It’s merely a song

merely a prayer

Thank you, Teachers

Thank you, Everyone

GRILHÕES E CINZAS INDO TER COM AS ÂNCORAS, DESCOMPASSADAS, TUDO DESABANDO.  A PILHA INTEIRA DE TRINTA ANOS.  PARECE  LIBERDADE, MAS É MORTE.  INVERTA-SE.

UM MONTALE E MAIS DE QUATRO MONTANS : IPSICH E AUSCHWITZ

E andando nel sole che abbaglia
sentire con triste meraviglia

com'è tutta la vita e il suo travaglio
in questo seguitare una muraglia
che ha in cima cocci aguzzi di bottiglia.

Eugenio Montale

E NOTAR QUE NÃO É OBRIGAÇÃO DE DEUS SER MINIMAMENTE AGRADÁVEL, OU CARIDOSO.  OU MUDAR O TOM (CONSIDERANDO-SE QUE DEUS TENHA UMA COISA TÃO VEXAMINOSAMENTE HUMANA QUANTO UM TOM) PORQUE UMA CRIATURA SUA ANDE (RAZÃO OU NÃO RAZÃO) MAIS SENSÍVEL, OU SE SENTINDO PERSEGUIDA.  POR ÚNICO DIA.  VINTE E TRÊS HORAS.  

bastará uma votação simbólica, na terça-feira

And then a HOLY moment comes

With crisp sobriety:

I see that we are meant for chains

Though every atom’s free.

.

OU NÃO HAVERIA DESESPERO; OU ATALHOS POR JARDINS ABANDONADOS, QUE SE DEVEM EVITAR - INDA QUE ESTEJAM ENVOLVIDOS TAPETES IMENSOS, E FRIO E NEVE.  POIS É A PRETEXTO DESSA SEMILIBERDADE MACULADA (E UM OCASIONAL TORPOR NA BANHEIRA) QUE BEIJO OS SANTOS.   UNS ALTARES TÃO POUCO ALTARES. 

If truth were not boring, science would have done away with God long ago. But God, as well as the saints, is a means to escape the dull banality of truth.

 

SE DESEJAR FOSSE SER

MY MOTHER IS NOT DEAD

My mother isn’t really dead.
Neither is yours.
I’m so happy for you.
You thought your mother was dead,
And now she isn’t.
What about your father?
Is he well?
Don’t worry about any of your relatives.
Do you see the insects?
One of them was once your dog.

But do not try to pat the ant.

It will be destroyed by your awkward affection.

The tree is trying to touch me.
It used to be an afternoon.
Mother, mother,
I don’t have to miss you any more.
Rover, Rover, Rex, Spot,
Here is the bone of my heart.

BEM NO OUTRO DIA, EXPUS MINHA OPINIÃO SECA QUANTO AO QUE DEIXA DE SER, POSTULANDO SEM PUDORES O NÃO-INFERNO E O NÃO-CÉU.  O ESCURO QUIETO - QUE É, COMO TUDO QUANTO QUIETO, EM VERDADE, A PAZ.  E TERMINA QUE FALEI (LONGAMENTE), PORTANTO, SOBRE 'PAZ'.  

OCORREU O ESPERADO: NÃO CONVENCI A CONTRAPARTE (OBSERVE-SE: ATÉIA!), MAS ME ESCUTEI E ME ESCUTEI E DESCOBRI QUE, PORQUE VIVIDA (DURADA, COMO A COISA DO FÓSFORO DO PESSOA), PELO MENOS ENQUANTO FOR HOJE (QUE É O ÚLTIMO DOS POUCOS  DIAS DE SOL), SOU MELHOR.  NA GRAÇA DO AMOR FEINHO. E O AMANTE SENDO, PARA NÃO DIZER 'A VIDA', A ROTINA.  BODENSTÄNDIG.

SCHIMPFEN

I am very different from most of you, and the older I get, the gladder. I should have come from a different country to entertain you with the horrors of my native land, but I didn’t. I came from your very midst, or you could say, your very mist. 

I AM YOUR VERY MIST.

But don’t be alarmed; you are not in the presence of a verbal fidget. If I strain too easily to push a pun into a profundity  it is only because I am at the end of my tether.  I’ve been too lonely, or I’ve been educated beyond my intelligence, or however you want to explain me away. It’s a pity if someone has to console himself for the wreck of his days with the notion that somehow his voice, his work embodies the deepest, most obscure, freshest, rawest oyster of reality in the unfathomable refrigerator of the heart’s ocean, but I am such a one, and there you have it.

E TALVEZ HAJA POUCO A SE EXPLICAR, MESMO PORQUE O INTERESSE - E NÃO DÓI RECONHECÊ-LO -, DE PEQUENO, SUMA.  

S.T.R.E.U.

 

 

better than darkness

is darkless

which is inkier, vaster

more profound

and eerily refrigerated

filled with caves

and blinding tunnels

in which appear

beckoning dead relatives

and other religious paraphernalia

THE AMAZING BLINDING TUNNELS WHERE ALL WHICH HAPPENS GETS LOST IN MEMORY SECONDS AFTER, AND THEN MEMORY ITSELF GETS LOST IN THESE TINY PLACES AMONG SKELETAL MUSCLE FIBERS TILL THERE IS NOTHING LEFT AND IT SEEMS ONLY NATURAL TO START OVER FROM SCRATCH.

 

IT IS A WISE WAY OF IMPLODING, AN EASY, HEALTHY OPTION