Os imbecis

Eles não compreendem nada. Não é preciso ter lido muito para ser sensível, para saber de que se trata. É um dom, um talento. Tens ou não tens... Eles podem ler bibliotecas inteiras. Mas tu, desde sempre o notei, para ti as palavras... Tu nunca disseste o desnecessário, nunca nada vago, pretensioso. Claro que, de vez em quando, tens que usar palavras. Não há outro remédio. Aquela palavra, sabes tu melhor que eles, é essencial.


Maria disse…
Be careful of words,
even the miraculous ones.
For the miraculous we do our best,
sometimes they swarm like insects
and leave not a sting but a kiss.
They can be as good as fingers.
They can be as trusty as the rock
you stick your bottom on.
But they can be both daisies and bruises.
Yet I am in love with words.
They are doves falling out of the ceiling.
They are six holy oranges sitting in my lap.
They are the trees, the legs of summer,
and the sun, its passionate face.
Yet often they fail me.
I have so much I want to say,
so many stories, images, proverbs, etc.
But the words aren't good enough,
the wrong ones kiss me.
Sometimes I fly like an eagle
but with the wings of a wren.
But I try to take care
and be gentle to them.
Words and eggs must be handled with care.
Once broken they are impossible
things to repair.

[Anne Sexton]

Murmurar palavras e inventar significados.
Unknown disse…
Where there was silence
the drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this.
Pure genius at work. Darling, the composer has stepped
into fire.

[Anne Sexton]

Silêncio, música. Sim, fizemos isto. Sim, o fogo. Sim, a chama.

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