Tufush

uma palavra
coloquial
árabe
cujo significado se
origina dos gestos
feitos por um homem
sendo afogado;
"vazio, ociosidade"
ou (quem sabe?)
"desespero".

Passeio

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

The greater cats with golden eyes
Stare out between the bars.
Deserts are there, and the different skies,
And night with different stars.
They prowl the aromatic hill,
And mate as fiercely as they kill,
To roam, to live, to drink their fill;
But this beyond their wit know I:
Man loves a little, and for long shall die.

Their kind across the desert range
Where tulips spring from stones,
Not knowing they will suffer change
Or vultures pick their bones.
Their strength's eternal in their sight,
They overtake the deer in flight,
And in their arrogance they smite;
But I am sage, if they are strong:
Man's love is transient as his death is long.

Yet oh what powers to deceive!
My wit is turned to faith,
And at this moment I believe
In love, and scout at death.
I came from nowhere, and shall be
Strong, steadfast, swift, eternally:
I am a lion, a stone, a tree,
And as the Polar star in me
Is fixed my constant heart on thee.
Ah, may I stay forever blind
With lions, tigers, leopards, and their kind.
Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed us –
The Dews drew quivering and chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I water'd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veil'd the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree.
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack,
the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up- for you the flag is flung- for
you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths- for you the shores
a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

In the desert

I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter - bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover !
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced :
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail :
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean :
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war !
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves ;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice !
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw :
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome ! those caves of ice !
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

(para não dizer viagem..)



Ozymandias Percy Bysshe Shelley
The Greater Cats Victoria Sackville-West
Because I could not stop for Death Emily Dickinson
A Poison Tree William Blake
O Captain! My Captain! Walt Whitman
The Heart Stephen Crane
Kubla Khan Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Anotações III

I.
CORRAM QUE ESSES OVÁRIOS TÃO PRODUZINDO MUITO ESTROGÊNIO ESTRAGADO POR AÍ!


II.

Sonnet CXV

Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer:
Yet then my judgment knew no reason why
My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.
But reckoning time, whose million'd accidents
Creep in 'twixt vows and change decrees of kings,
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents,
Divert strong minds to the course of altering things;
Alas, why, fearing of time's tyranny,
Might I not then say 'Now I love you best,'
When I was certain o'er incertainty,
Crowning the present, doubting of the rest?
Love is a babe; then might I not say so,
To give full growth to that which still doth grow?

William Shakespeare

III.
calor no sofá da sala
focinho-de-madeira
casa vazia e o diabo
nada sabe
sobre os meus cansaços

rizíveis como pássaros
meus cigarros
estão sempre acesos
e em cada trago inalo rostos
que queimam sem me pertencerem
em signos de fragilidade e confusão

caberia ainda
nesse corredor que não sabe aurora
um quadro de vidas futuras
um esboço de doença
uma patética infância
ou a esquina que vislumbro basta
para que meu voô taciturno permaneça
aéreo sem ser vazio
sem se nutrir do frio
de tantas outras solidões?

máquina suave
quem não te conhece perde por não saber
a beleza travada, precisa
a única partícula inteira de vida
que conheceremos antes
de deitarmos e não sermos sem exceção.


IV.












V.

Haikai etilista

Se a gente acha ruim
(às vezes) estar sozinho
pior é sem vinho!

VI.
Se nada houvesse ademais o que sabemos através daquilo que experimentamos sensorialmente, então por qual razão haveria sentimentos? Por qual necessidade desenvolveríamos esses turbilhões profundos que nos assolam sem controle, mas que nada passam de capa e contracapa do mesmo desentendimento? Infelizmente, a verdade é que nós podemos experimentar muito mais do que gostaríamos...


VII.

Sociopatas Inc.

Alguém que chama seu nome quando você já está quase do outro lado da rua pode até fazer isso com carinho, com as mais simples intenções. Mas só vai conseguir com que você seja violentamente atropelado.

Claro que também existe o fator olhar-pra-trás, o qual depende de você. Ainda bem que na grande maioria das vezes esse não passa de um reflexo rápido, sem muito significado, o qual não dá tempo daquele ônibus chegar até você.

Calcium mines buried deep in your chest

Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay
Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay
So when the cat has got your tongue
There's no need for dismay
Just summon up this word
And then you've got a lot to say
But better use it carefully
Or it may change your life
One night I said it to me girl
And now me girl's my wife!

She's supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

Anotações II

I.II.
Já me previa uma boa amiga minha:

-- que tudo se foda,
disse ela,
e se fodeu toda

Mas quem escreveu foi sua senhoria o senhor Paulo Leminski.

III.
A primeira vez que você sutura a barriga de alguém é um momento muito difícil de se respirar e de não pensar "puta merda, no que foi que eu me meti" o tempo todo. Agora imaginem o que não se passaria pela cabeça da pobre criatura a ser costurada!

IV.
Wittgenstein:
"O fato fundamental é que fixamos regras, uma técnica, para um jogo e que quando seguimos as regras, as coisas não se passam como havíamo suposto. Que, portanto, nos aprisionamos, por assim dizer, nas nossas próprias regras. Este aprisionamento em nossas próprias regras é o que queremos compreender, isto é, aquilo de que queremos ter uma visão panorâmica."

V.


VI.
Salve salve mano guigs! Presente dele aqui.