Semana II - Terra Materna

Posted by Actia in

Não a trazemos ao peito como amuleto,
não soluçamos para ela em verso sentido,
ela não perturba o nosso sonho amargo,
ela não nos parece o éden prometido.
Na nossa alma ela não se molda
em objecto de compra e de venda,
nunca nos lembramos dela na hora
miserável e muda e doente.
Sim, ela é para nós lama nas botas,
sim, terra nos dentes esmigalhada,
E mais amassamos, mais remoemos
este pó que não tem culpa de nada.
Mas nela nos deitamos, nela nos tornamos,
por isso, com direito, nossa lhe chamamos.

AKHMÁTOVA, Anna, Só o sangue cheira a sangue, Lisboa, Assírio e Alvim, 2000.

Tradução: Nina Guerra e Filipe Guerra.
Foto: Anna Akhmátova

This entry was posted on domingo, 31 de maio de 2009 at domingo, maio 31, 2009 and is filed under . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .

2 comentários

Está aberta mais uma ronda da nossa poesia com Direito a Reposta.
Participem, deixando a vossa sugestão.

31 de maio de 2009 às 21:17

«'People of Earth, your attention, please,' a voice said, and it was wonderful. Wonderful perfect quadrophonic sound with distortion levels so low as to make a brave man weep.
'This is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz of the Galactic Hyperspace Planning Council,' the voice continued. As you will no doubt be aware, the Plans for development of the outlying regions of the Galaxy require the building of a hyperspatial express route through your star system, and regrettably your planet is one of those scheduled for demolition. The process will take slightly less than two of your Earth minutes. Thank you.'The PA died away.
Uncomprehending terror settled on the watching people on Earth. The terror moved slowly through the gathered crowds as if they were iron filings on a sheet of board and a magnet was moving beneath them. Panic sprouted again, desperate fleeing panic, but there was nowhere to flee to.
Observing this, the Vogons turned on their PA again. It said:
'There's no point in acting all surprised about it. All the planning charts and demolition orders have been on display in your local planning department in Alpha Centauri for fifty of your Earth years, so you've had plenty of time to lodge any formal complaint and it's far too late to start making a fuss about it now.'(...)
'What do you mean you've never been to Alpha Centauri? For Heaven's sake, mankind, it's only four light years away, you know. I'm sorry, but if you can't be bothered to take an interest in local affairs that's your own lookout.
'Energize the demolition beams.'
Light poured out of the hatchways.
I don't know,' said the voice on the PA, apathetic bloody planet, I've no sympathy at all,' It cut off.
There was a terrible ghastly silence.
There was a terrible ghastly noise.
There was a terrible ghastly silence.
The Vogon Constructor Fleet coasted away into the inky starry void.»

Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, London, Pan Macmillan, 2005, pp.37 e 38.

1 de junho de 2009 às 23:47

Enviar um comentário