PHILIP LARKIN

Inverno

No campo dois cavalos,

Dois cisnes no rio,

E o vento fustiga

Um baldio onde os cardos

Se juntam como gente;

E de novo os meus pensamentos

São crianças

De rostos inquietos,

Acordam em túmulos

Ocultos e soerguem-se

Sob céus velozes.

O rasto diagonal

Dum cisne na água

É o frio do inverno;

E os cavalos, como paixões

Há muito derrotadas,

Descaem as cabeças

E ai, como me invadem

A mente amortalhada

E resgatam da memória

Os rostos aprisionados —

Aluviões do passado.

Então a charneca inteira

Silva em golpes de vento

E a gente transida

Junta-se como cardos

Num lugar estéril;

E mesmo assim os milagres

Exumam de cada rosto

Fortes sementes sedosas

Que lançam para o estático

Sol de ouro do inverno

Um orgulho sem fim nem sombra.

(in Uma Antologia, tradução de Maria Teresa Caeiro, Fora do Texto, 1989 – Poesia Nosso Tempo / original de The North Ship, 1945)

W. S. MERWIN

The Stranger

After a Guarani legend recorded by Ernesto Morales

One day in the forest there was somebody
who had never been there before

it was somebody like the monkeys but taller

and without a tail and without so much hair

standing up and walking on only two feet

and as he went he heard a voice calling Save me

as the stranger looked he could see a snake

a very big snake with a circle of fire

that was dancing all around it

and the snake was trying to get out

but every way it turned the fire was there

so the stranger bent the trunk of a young tree

and climbed out over the fire until he

could hold a branch down to the snake

and the snake wrapped himself around the branch

and the stranger pulled the snake up out of the fire

and as soon as the snake saw that he was free

he twined himself around the stranger

and started to crush the life out of him

but the stranger shouted No No

I am the one who has just saved your life

and you pay me back by trying to kill me

but the snake said I am keeping the law

it is the law that whoever does good

receives evil in return

and he drew his coils tight around the stranger

but the stranger kept on saying No No

I do not believe that is the law

so the snake said I will show you

I will show you three times and you will see

and he kept his coils tight around the stranger's neck

and all around his arms and body

but he let go of the stranger's legs

Now walk he said to the stranger Keep going

so they started out that way and they came

to a river and the river said to them

I do good to everyone and look what they

do to me I save them from dying of thirst

and all they do is stir up the mud

and fill my water with dead things

the snake said One

the stranger said Let us go on and they did

and they came to a caranda-i palm

there were wounds running with sap on its trunk

and the palm tree was moaning I do good

to everyone and look what they do to me

I give them my fruit and my shade and they cut me

and drink from my body until I die

the snake said Two

the stranger said Let us go on and they did

and came to a place where they heard whimpering

and saw a dog with his paw in a basket

and the dog said I did a good thing

and this is what came of it

I found a jaguar who had been hurt

and I took care of him and he got better

and as soon as he had his strength again

he sprang at me wanting to eat me up

I managed to get away but he tore my paw

I hid in a cave until he was gone

and here in this basket I have

a calabash full of milk for my wound

but now I have pushed it too far down to reach

will you help me he said to the snake

and the snake liked milk better than anything

so he slid off the stranger and into the basket

and when he was inside the dog snapped it shut

and swung it against a tree with all his might

again and again until the snake was dead

and after the snake was dead in there

the dog said to the stranger Friend

I have saved your life

and the stranger took the dog home with him

and treated him the way the stranger would treat a dog

1993

(recebido, em tempos, por email, sem referências à publicação original)

ANTÓNIO RAMOS ROSA

À Morte dum Poeta

Sem ternura

sem pureza

não grito a tua morte apenas violenta

a tua morte apenas violenta ecoa em mim

e já não existo senão escuro e tremo

um pobre corpo atemorizado um coração de vazio

e a vergonha de não ter lágrimas e a ignorância

Estou mais razo do que tu, poeta, a uma mesa de café

mais morto mais falso mais nojento do que tu

e disfarço o silêncio e naturalmente continuo na vida

e rio e fujo e não consigo enterrar-te

não consigo chorar-te

porque o horror violento me desenha o corpo

Tiraste-me a vida e quase te odeio poeta

a minha morte teria sido muito mais insignificante

a minha morte teria sido mais justa

É esta ideia que te não perdoo, esta ideia horrorosa que bebo

esta ideia de que não mereço a tua morte

porque não mereci a tua vida

O que eu odeio é não te ter amado

o que eu odeio é a minha pobre vida e a minha culpa

o que eu odeio é ter ficado

Deixaste-me a responsabilidade tremenda de sobreviver-te

e por isso te amo e por isso descansa, poeta!

11 de Fevereiro de 1952.

(in Árvore – folhas de poesia, Inverno de 1951-52 / número dedicado «à memória de Sebastião da Gama, ao Poeta e ao Amigo que perdemos»)

Talvez nada.

Tão mais incerta é a vida

Quanto a consciência que dela temos.

Levantarmo-nos é ir, a vaga

Sensação de ter ideias,

Sonhos, medo, um futuro.

Talvez o sem fundo de existir

Obrigue a deixar para os outros

O entretém de continuar a sentir

O vazio.