Sons da Escrita 354

6 de Agosto de 2011

Primeiro programa do ciclo José Carlos Soares

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.


•••

José Carlos Soares

Guardo ainda esse sorriso

Guardo ainda esse sorriso, doce
desordem neste encanto. Guardo
a boca, o branco inflamado
dessa imagem.

Palavras que me deste. Fogo,
folhas da manhã entrelaçadas
quando apavorados
subimos dardejando
esse delírio.

Sulcos, segredos, ervas,
sinais da morte
pequeninos.


Agora que a dor regressa

Agora que a dor regressa
às mágicas folhagens

agora que regressa
o musgo cresce
por entre a sombra viva
e derramada.

Arde na boca o aroma
a cinza leve da lama

arde na boca o segredo
a branca língua do frio.


Devagar acende os gestos

Devagar acende os gestos
da fogueira

e devagar enterra
os olhos nesse brilho
magoado sobre o peito.

As mãos afagam sombras,
gestos, sangue

e devagar aquece
a terra inteira.


Memories of love (Chicago)

A warm summer night
The moon above us
The stars for a wish come true
Are memories of love
A motionless pound
A beautiful swan
The smell of flowers growing near
Make me shed a tear
Memories of love gone by
Make me stop and cry
Now I kneel and pray
For the lord took her today
And all that's left to think of
Are memories of her love


José Carlos Soares

Enquanto esmigalhava entre os dedos uma caixa de fósforos

como saber de ti se nesta sombra
apenas sei a rosa e seu aroma
o corpo me percorre e como ouvir
teus passos quando vens se tua boca
já líquida me chama e meu pescoço
erguido nada vê e em que pedra
gravaste não o nome mas o peito
e te abriste em espuma lentamente
em que luar passeias tu a boca
que não a descobri em que lugar
escuro me fugiste quando ia
de tão imensa sede procurando
a íris de teus olhos em que ocaso
me percorreste o corpo em que sombra


How was I to know (John Michael Montgomery)

Well I hoped and I prayed, I loved you from afar
I cried, and I dreamed, wished on every star
But nothin' I'd do got me closer to you
So I locked all my feelings inside

Then one night across a crowded room
You looked my way, your eyes held something new
You walked right up to me and smiled tenderly
And your words came as such a surprise

Well how was I to know
You never let it show
What a beauty like you might see
In a poor boy like me
How could I have seen
You walk out of my dreams
Shine your light on my sleepin' heart
And into my soul
How was I to know

You took my hand and led me out the door
We talked and we laughed
'Bout all the times before
When two lonely people so much in love
Passed like ships in the night

Well how was I to know
You never let it show
What a beauty like you might see
In a poor boy like me
How could I have seen
You walk out of my dreams
Shine your light on my sleepin' heart
And into my soul
How was I to know

How could I have seen
You walk out of my dreams
Shine your light on my sleepin' heart
And into my soul
How was I
How was I to know


José Carlos Soares

Alexandre, jeunesse e mais um pouco

Não é a tua boca
perfeita, duvidosa
o pátio sereníssimo do sonho. É a lenteza

com que afastas
o lúdico prodígio de buscar-te
atrás daquele espelho. Que luminosa

mágoa vais tecendo
enquanto me conquistas
nessa treva, que morte

a nossa a golpes
adiada, o puro sal nos olhos
penetrando?

Talvez o espelho saiba dessas guerras
o seu momento atroz, talvez
sidere o corpo, o lado
oculto; habites finalmente
o erro limpo.


I missed again (Phil Collins)

So you finally came right out and said it girl
What took you so long
It was in your eyes, that look's been there for too long
I'm waiting in line
Would you say if I was wasting my time

Or did I miss again
I think I missed again oh

I think about it from time to time
When I'm lonely and on my own

I try to forget and yet, still rush to the telephone
I'm waiting in line
Would you say if I was wasting my time

Or did I miss again
I think I missed again oh
Or did I miss again
I think I missed again oh

Well it feels like something you want so bad
Then you think you've got it, but it's something you already had
You can feel it all around you, but it's something you just can't touch
And I feel it coming at me
I can feel it coming at me

Or did I miss again
I think I missed again oh
Or did I miss again
I think I missed again

I'm waiting in line, but would you say if I was wasting my time

Or did I miss again...


Jim-béu

Jim-béu
Não arde esse pavor, é outra
lâmina
rasgando de mansinho
essas palavras. O sol assim

morrendo no quintal, o peito
alvoroçado de silêncios. Que dança
pelos olhos já demora
enquanto o sonho ainda

se prolonga no leve inquietar-se
da magia? O sexo
não o temos nem devia
saborear na tarde a nuvem branca.

Paixão suave ou culpa,
danado voo, um nome por abrir
mas noutra boca.


Lonely is the name (Sammy Davis Jr.)

Lonely is the name
That I answer to
And crying is the game
Cause I'm losing you
I'll never be the same
Without your love

Believe me
Sorry is the role
That you make me play
Tormented is the soul
That is mine today
I'm lost beyond control
Without your love

Missing is the kiss
Absent is the sigh
Gone, the look
Of love you wore

Was it all a dream
Was it all a lie
Don't you love me anymore

Just tell them
Lonely is the name
It will always be
And crying is the game
Til you're back with me
I'll never be the same
Without your love

(Lonely is the name)
(Crying is the game)
(Without your love)

Missing is the kiss
Absent is the sigh
Gone, the look
Of love you wore

Was it all a dream
Was it all a lie
Don't you love me anymore

Just tell them
Lonely is the name
It will always be
And crying is the game
Til you're back with me
I'll never be the same
Without your love

It will always be
And lonely is the name
Til you're back with me
I'll never be the same...


Zoom
Desenhos do vagar, a erva
rente, um lamento de folhas
enlaçadas. Precipício

de sombras, a tarde inteira
em pedacinhos
tocando a dor, um verso quase
insuportável. Assim posando

envolves a frescura, o labirinto
de sedas escondidas,
o consolo do lápis
quando escreves. Exílio apenas

ou desastre
estarmos assim sabendo
esta passagem, o traçado
da morte, essa leveza.


Música:

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

Fundos
David Arkenstone

Ligações
Chicago, John Michael Montgomery, Phil Collins, Sammy Davis Jr.

Textos:
José Carlos Soares

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