Woman (ao Papa em Valência e ao cigarro de José Luís Zapatero)
por Elísio
Fighting a tiger is not inviting to recall whom I loved. When love shuts the door, the door shuts in a cloud and the cloud vanishes over the horizon. We survive because love fights till death, but it never dies.
M. came out speaking to me, one day, about marriage and my heart was blessed. But I cheated on her as someone who drinks a glass of chilly water in a hot day and closes his eyes for a moment, diving deep into freshness. When I came to the surface I crawled ashore, resplendent and smashed by the burden of having seen stars and paradise trees at the same time. I tried for twenty days to remove that mammoth laid on me and, finally I confessed my trespass. I lost her but I moved from one century to the other without getting old in a sole eve.
Later I dated A. four springs in a row. This time it was A. who cheated on me with a friend of mine, who chose to be my friend and pray, in his own way, for our happiness. She didn’t manage to say it, neither that she was barren. When I realized it, I gathered strengths to overcome that obstacle because I thought that marrying her, for a childless life, wouldn’t work. But it ceased working before that because she was looking into my face and not into my heart and the heart mirrored in my face was her intellect.
Then I got married. I became a father, one day. And when I laid my baby girl on the sofa of a lone November house, she began to move her little fingers and, thereafter, they didn’t stop pulling the strings of my heart.
I remember other women I fancied about on getting married, having children and looking back over a corridor of time with gratefulness.
At a distance from the struggle with a tiger, it stands a woman’s face. Women laugh among them at these sayings, and we beckon. But if we were not different who could ever come to the rescue of each other? All those women lie beyond our thoughts, as the tide recedes from the tranquil toes.
It is true that giving birth to a new life could only come from two beings, always new to each other. And how vain it would be to come out in the starry night and command the stars to kneel at our feet. A new being can only happen by accident. Therefore, only by accident could love happen. If man was not a woman’s accident and vice-versa, both would be of the same essence, revolving and fading as a butterfly in a parched cocoon.
So I thank the women by whom I never qualified as husband and I do not regret the dive we did together in order to escape an island round with water.
The traits of a woman’s face catch the lightning and stripes of the tiger as if a fortunate island emerged from the sea under the shipwrecked and slowly opened her eyes, dried from tears, moving eyelids made of birds.
Fighting a tiger is not inviting to recall whom I loved. When love shuts the door, the door shuts in a cloud and the cloud vanishes over the horizon. We survive because love fights till death, but it never dies.
M. came out speaking to me, one day, about marriage and my heart was blessed. But I cheated on her as someone who drinks a glass of chilly water in a hot day and closes his eyes for a moment, diving deep into freshness. When I came to the surface I crawled ashore, resplendent and smashed by the burden of having seen stars and paradise trees at the same time. I tried for twenty days to remove that mammoth laid on me and, finally I confessed my trespass. I lost her but I moved from one century to the other without getting old in a sole eve.
Later I dated A. four springs in a row. This time it was A. who cheated on me with a friend of mine, who chose to be my friend and pray, in his own way, for our happiness. She didn’t manage to say it, neither that she was barren. When I realized it, I gathered strengths to overcome that obstacle because I thought that marrying her, for a childless life, wouldn’t work. But it ceased working before that because she was looking into my face and not into my heart and the heart mirrored in my face was her intellect.
Then I got married. I became a father, one day. And when I laid my baby girl on the sofa of a lone November house, she began to move her little fingers and, thereafter, they didn’t stop pulling the strings of my heart.
I remember other women I fancied about on getting married, having children and looking back over a corridor of time with gratefulness.
At a distance from the struggle with a tiger, it stands a woman’s face. Women laugh among them at these sayings, and we beckon. But if we were not different who could ever come to the rescue of each other? All those women lie beyond our thoughts, as the tide recedes from the tranquil toes.
It is true that giving birth to a new life could only come from two beings, always new to each other. And how vain it would be to come out in the starry night and command the stars to kneel at our feet. A new being can only happen by accident. Therefore, only by accident could love happen. If man was not a woman’s accident and vice-versa, both would be of the same essence, revolving and fading as a butterfly in a parched cocoon.
So I thank the women by whom I never qualified as husband and I do not regret the dive we did together in order to escape an island round with water.
The traits of a woman’s face catch the lightning and stripes of the tiger as if a fortunate island emerged from the sea under the shipwrecked and slowly opened her eyes, dried from tears, moving eyelids made of birds.
publicado por Pedro Martins às 07:27
2 Comentários:
Importa-se de trocar por "little children", vulgo miúdos?
A pedido de alguns viajantes do blog, e a muito custo, dado ser um texto bastante idiomático, tentei traduzi-lo. Peço desculpa ao Pedro Martins e a Elísio pela ousadia.
"Lutar contra um tigre não é recordar quem amei. Quando o amor fecha a porta, a porta fecha-se numa nuvem e a nuvem desvanece-se no horizonte.Sobrevivemos porque o amor luta até à morte, mas nunca morre.
M. veio falar-me, um dia, sobre casamento e o meu coração foi abençoado. Mas traí-a, como alguém que bebe um copo de água fria num dia quente e fecha os olhos por um instante, mergulhando na frescura.Quando emergi, rastejei por terra, resplandecente e esmagado pelo fardo de ter visto, ao mesmo tempo, estrelas e árvores do paraíso.Tentei por 20 dias remover o monstro alojado em mim e finalmente declarei a minha morte.
Perdi-a mas mudei-me de um século para outro, envelhecendo numa única véspera.
Mais tarde namorei A. 4 Primaveras seguidas. Desta vez foi A. quem me traiu com um amigo meu, que escolheu ser meu amigo e rezar, à sua própria maneira, pela nossa felicidade. Ela não conseguiu confessá-lo, nem que era estéril. Quando me apercebi, reuni forças para ultrapassar aquele obstáculo, porque pensei que casando com ela, para uma vida sem filhos, não resultaria. Mas deixou de resultar antes disso, porque ela olhava para a minha cara e não para o meu coração e o coração espelhado na minha cara era o seu pensamento.
Depois casei. Tornei-me pai, um dia. E quando me recostei ao lado da minha menina no sofá de casa-solitária-de-Novembro, ela começou a mexer os dedinhos e a partir daí, estes não pararam de puxar os cordéis do meu coração.
Lembro-me de outras mulheres com quem gostaria de ter casado e ter tido filhos, e ter olhado para trás, para um corredor de tempo, com gratidão.
A alguma distância da luta contra o tigre, está a cara de uma mulher. As mulheres riem entre elas destas frases. e nós anuímos.Mas e se não fossemos diferentes, quem procuraria cada qual? Todas aquelas mulheres permanecem além dos nossos pensamentos, como a maré que foge dos tranquilos deles dos nossos pés.
É verdade que fazer nascer a um novo ser, implica 2 seres, sempre novos um para o outro. E quão vão seria sair na noite estrelada e ordenaràs estrelas que se ajoelhassem a nossos pés.
Um novo ser, só pode acontecer por acidente. Portanto, só por acidente o amor acontece.Se o homem não foi um acidente da mulher e vice versa, ambos seriam da mesma essência, girando e desaparecendo como uma borboleta num casulo ressequido.
Então agradeço às mulheres por quem nunca me classifiquei como marido e não lamento o mergulho que fizemos juntos para escapar a uma ilha cercada de água.
Os traços da cara de uma mulher captam a luz e as riscas do tigre como se uma ilha afortunada emergisse do mar por baixo dos náufragos e lentamente abrisse os seus olhos, secos das lágrimas, mexendo as pálpebras feitas de pássaros."
Enviar um comentário
<< Home