estar aqui é andar às voltas
estar vivo é um desconforto, é uma inquietude
estar vivo é procurar
há um maravilhamento que nos toma inteiros
e nos faz sentir que há alguma coisa a perseguir
alguma verdade superior que poderemos atingir
alguma coisa de importante a fazer
há quem lhe chame muitas coisas
é um chamamento das profundezas
é um vórtice que nos puxa
estar vivo é ser arrastado
é por isso que eu gosto do mar
pelo menos ele é aquilo que parece ser
não nos promete manhãs encantadas
nem bálsamos refrescantes
todo o mar é abismo
todo o mar é encantamento
o mar é a verdade, a introspecção e a graça
segunda-feira, junho 13, 2005
quinta-feira, junho 09, 2005
o comedor de palavras
o comedor de palavras tinha muita fome
comia indiscriminadamente verbos, nomes e mesmo adjectivos
e estava muito barrigudo
quando o vieram buscar
já ele estava morto
a sua pele adquirira um tom transparente
e em toda a sua extensão podia-se ler
as palavras que tinha devorado
pegaram nele e puseram-no numa praça pública
para dar testemunho da verdade
nós permanecemos nas palavras
comia indiscriminadamente verbos, nomes e mesmo adjectivos
e estava muito barrigudo
quando o vieram buscar
já ele estava morto
a sua pele adquirira um tom transparente
e em toda a sua extensão podia-se ler
as palavras que tinha devorado
pegaram nele e puseram-no numa praça pública
para dar testemunho da verdade
nós permanecemos nas palavras
segunda-feira, junho 06, 2005
Song of Childhood
«When the child was a child It walked with its arms swinging, wanted the brook to be a river, the river to be a torrent, and this puddle to be the sea.
When the child was a child, it didn’t know that it was a child, everything was soulful, and all souls were one.
When the child was a child, it had no opinion about anything, had no habits, it often sat cross-legged, took off running, had a cowlick in its hair, and made no faces when photographed.
When the child was a child, It was the time for these questions: Why am I me, and why not you? Why am I here, and why not there? When did time begin, and where does space end? Is life under the sun not just a dream? Is what I see and hear and smell not just an illusion of a world before the world? Given the facts of evil and people. does evil really exist? How can it be that I, who I am, didn’t exist before I came to be, and that, someday, I, who I am, will no longer be who I am?
When the child was a child, It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding, and on steamed cauliflower, and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.
When the child was a child, it awoke once in a strange bed, and now does so again and again. Many people, then, seemed beautiful, and now only a few do, by sheer luck.
It had visualized a clear image of Paradise, and now can at most guess, could not conceive of nothingness, and shudders today at the thought.
When the child was a child, It played with enthusiasm, and, now, has just as much excitement as then, but only when it concerns its work.
When the child was a child, It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread, And so it is even now.
When the child was a child, Berries filled its hand as only berries do, and do even now, Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw, and do even now, it had, on every mountaintop, the longing for a higher mountain yet, and in every city, the longing for an even greater city, and that is still so, It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees with an elation it still has today, has a shyness in front of strangers, and has that even now. It awaited the first snow, And waits that way even now.
When the child was a child, It threw a stick like a lance against a tree, And it quivers there still today. »
(by Peter Handke)
When the child was a child, it didn’t know that it was a child, everything was soulful, and all souls were one.
When the child was a child, it had no opinion about anything, had no habits, it often sat cross-legged, took off running, had a cowlick in its hair, and made no faces when photographed.
When the child was a child, It was the time for these questions: Why am I me, and why not you? Why am I here, and why not there? When did time begin, and where does space end? Is life under the sun not just a dream? Is what I see and hear and smell not just an illusion of a world before the world? Given the facts of evil and people. does evil really exist? How can it be that I, who I am, didn’t exist before I came to be, and that, someday, I, who I am, will no longer be who I am?
When the child was a child, It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding, and on steamed cauliflower, and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.
When the child was a child, it awoke once in a strange bed, and now does so again and again. Many people, then, seemed beautiful, and now only a few do, by sheer luck.
It had visualized a clear image of Paradise, and now can at most guess, could not conceive of nothingness, and shudders today at the thought.
When the child was a child, It played with enthusiasm, and, now, has just as much excitement as then, but only when it concerns its work.
When the child was a child, It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread, And so it is even now.
When the child was a child, Berries filled its hand as only berries do, and do even now, Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw, and do even now, it had, on every mountaintop, the longing for a higher mountain yet, and in every city, the longing for an even greater city, and that is still so, It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees with an elation it still has today, has a shyness in front of strangers, and has that even now. It awaited the first snow, And waits that way even now.
When the child was a child, It threw a stick like a lance against a tree, And it quivers there still today. »
(by Peter Handke)
terça-feira, maio 31, 2005
É, então, assim?
Havia, numa aldeia, um grande mestre que vivia em contemplação. Um dia uma rapariga engravidou e, sob a pressão dos seus pais para revelar o nome do seu amante, acusou o mestre. O pai da rapariga esperou que a criança nascesse e foi a casa do mestre. Disse-lhe: - Como é possível!!! Tu que nos inspiravas a todos! Toma! Fica com ele...
O mestre limitou-se a dizer: - É, então, assim?
Ele acolheu a criança e iniciou a sua educação. Passado uns tempos a rapariga, não aguentando mais, revelou aos seus pais que não passava tudo de uma mentira inventada para proteger o seu amante, um rapaz da aldeia.
O pai dela foi ter com o mestre e pediu-lhe mil desculpas. Pegou na criança e disse:
- Vou levá-la comigo.
- É, então, assim? - limitou-se a dizer o mestre.
O mestre limitou-se a dizer: - É, então, assim?
Ele acolheu a criança e iniciou a sua educação. Passado uns tempos a rapariga, não aguentando mais, revelou aos seus pais que não passava tudo de uma mentira inventada para proteger o seu amante, um rapaz da aldeia.
O pai dela foi ter com o mestre e pediu-lhe mil desculpas. Pegou na criança e disse:
- Vou levá-la comigo.
- É, então, assim? - limitou-se a dizer o mestre.
segunda-feira, maio 30, 2005
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