Sons da Escrita 259

8 de Janeiro de 2010

Segundo programa do ciclo Joaquim Manuel Magalhães

Compasso a compasso, palavra a palavra, alinham-se, rigorosos, os sons da escrita.

Quando um homem interroga a água pura dos sentidos e ousa caminhar, serenamente, os esquecidos atalhos de todas as memórias, acontecem viagens — viagens entre o quase tudo e o quase nada.

Então, da raíz dos nervos da memória surge a planta de uma vida escutada no silêncio dos sons da escrita.

Sons da Escrita – à volta de uma ideia de José-António Moreira.


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Joaquim Manuel Magalhães2

Onde os canaviais findavam em penhascos

Onde os canaviais findavam em penhascos
os caramujos pejavam-se de pó.
As folhas secas, os detritos donde subia
o real, a música, a caminhada.

Abeirei-me das tuas mãos.
Não sabia onde me levavam.
Ia. Como vão asas com o gume
da primeira primavera. Ainda
de granizos. Fetos fosforescentes,
a ferrugem ferida da terra.
No quintal abriam os goivos.

Os teus braços sabem a verdade.
O corpo repousa comigo. O brigue
das teias alberga canções.
Faixas de luar lançam no soalho
danças indecisas dos insectos.
Em breve chegaremos ao verão.


I just died in your arms tonight (Cutting Crew)

Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight

I keep looking for something I can't get
Broken hearts lie all around me
And I don't see an easy way to get out of this
Her diary it sits on the bedside table
The curtains are closed, the cats in the cradle
Who would've thought that a boy like me could come to this

Oh, I just died in your arms tonight
It must've been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must've been some kind of kiss
I should have walked away, I should have walked away

Is there any just cause for feeling like this?
On the surface I'm a name on a list
I try to be discreet, but then blow it again
I've lost and found, it's my final mistake
She's loving by proxy, no give and all take
'cos I've been thrilled to fantasy one too many times

It was a long hot night
She made it easy, she made it feel right
But now it's over the moment has gone
I followed my hands not my head, I knew I was wrong


Joaquim Manuel Magalhães2

Findou o poente nas paredes

Findou o poente nas paredes.
Breves e desconhecidos
os pássaros
assomam ao repouso dos telhados.
As últimas enxadas levantam
pela penumbra dos aroeiros
a maresia musgosa dos terrenos.
Nos quelhos com rebanhos
voltam os tractores.
Arvoredo rasteiro, cila marítima,
marcos geodésicos, a despedida,
a devastação.


It’s all over now, Baby Blue (Byrds)

You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last
But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun
Crying like a fire in the sun
Look out the saints are comin' through
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.

The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense
Take what you have gathered from coincidence
The empty handed painter from your streets
Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets
This sky, too, is folding under you
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.

All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home
Your empty handed armies, are all going home
Your lover who just walked out the door
Has taken all his blankets from the floor
The carpet, too, is moving under you
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.

Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you
Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you
The vagabond who's rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore
Strike another match, go start a new
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.


Joaquim Manuel Magalhães2

Juntamos toros e gravetos

Juntamos toros e gravetos
para a lareira. Na mata
flutua o crepúsculo.
Marcos de luz a findar.

Vagas de zimbro, escórias
o arpão do esquecimento.
A súbita melancolia da casa.

As janelas abrem para o rio
e a barra e a ilha com névoa.
Podias ser tu de céu a céu.

A inquieta certeza da poesia
não admite questões. Descobre-se
ao virar da vinha, quando chegamos
ao tanque e não há ninguém.


Nobody (Paul Simon)

Who knows my secret broken bone
Who feels my flesh when I am gone
Who was a witness to the dream
Who kissed my eyes and saw the scream
Lying there
Nobody

Who is my reason to begin
Who plows the earth, who breaks the skin
Who took my two hands and made them four
Who is my heart, who is my door
Nobody
Nobody but you, girl
Nobody but you
Nobody in this whole wide world
Nobody

Who makes the bed that can't be made
Who is my mirror, who's my blade
When I am rising like a flood
Who feels the pounding in my blood
Nobody

Nobody but you
Nobody but you
Nobody in this whole wide world
Nobody, girl
Nobody

As canas escondem o caminho
A minha mão tocou-te
O mar tributa essa canção da vida
Depois parto
A floresta vê o silencioso orvalho pousar
O artifício da linguagem inventa almas
E o olhar acredita, vai de noite,
encontra as gentes que do promontório
Viam um navio
A arte da morte
A poesia


Música:

Genérico
Davy Spillane (abertura e fecho), Beatles (Fecho)

Fundos
Barbara Higbie, Amoeba, Russ Hopkins & Jerry Palmer

Ligações
Cutting Crew, Byrds, Paul Simon

Textos:
Joaquim Manuel Magalhães

Edição e voz:
José-António Moreira


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And in the end

the love you'll take

is equal to the love you make

© José-António Moreira 2012