Sons da Escrita 390

14 de Abril de 2012

Segundo programa do ciclo T. S. Eliot

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.


•••

do livro A canção de amor de J. Alfred Prufrock

Então vem, vamos juntos os dois,
A noite cai e já se estende pelo céu,
Parece um doente adormecido a éter sobre a mesa;
Vem comigo por certas ruas semi-desertas
Que são refúgio de vozes murmuradas
De noites sem repouso em hotéis baratos de uma noite
E restaurantes com serradura e conchas de ostra:
Ruas que se prolongam como argumento enfadonho
De insidiosa intenção
Que te arrasta àquela questão inevitável…
Oh, não perguntes «Qual será?»
Vem lá comigo fazer a tal visita.


Love song (Anne Murray)

There's a wren in a willow wood
Flys so high and sings so good
And he brings to you, what he sings to you
Like my brother the wren and I
Well, he told if I try, I could fly for you
And I want to try for you, 'cause

I want to sing you a love song
I want to rock you in my arms all night long
I want to get to know you
I want to show you, the peaceful feelin' of my home

Summer thunder on moon-bright days
Northern Lights and skies ablaze
And I bring to you, lover, when I sing to you
Silver wings in a fiery sky
Show the trail of my love and I


do livro A canção de amor de J. Alfred Prufrock

E a tarde, a noite, a dormir tão sossegada!
Afagada por dedos esguios,
A dormir… exausta… ou a fingir,
Estirada aqui no chão, à beira de nós dois.
Depois do chá, dos bolos, dos gelados, eu tinha ainda
Aquela força que provoca a crise do instante?
Mas apesar das lágrimas e jejuns, lágrimas e preces,
E apesar de ter visto a minha cabeça (um tanto calva já)
Ser entregue numa salva,
Não sou nenhum profeta – e isso pouco importa;
Já vi tremer o meu instante de esplendor
E vi o eterno lacaio agarrar-me a casaca, rindo sorrateiro,
E bastará dizer que tive medo.

E tinha valido a pena, depois de tudo isto,
Depois da geleia, das xícaras, do chá,
Entre porcelanas, a meio de qualquer conversa de nós dois,
Tinha valido a pena
Ter rematado o assunto com um sorriso,
Ter estreitado o universo numa bola
E fazê-la rolar, rumo a qualquer questão inevitável,
E dizer: «Sou Lázaro e venho de entre os mortos.
Voltei para vos contar tudo, vou contar-vos tudo»


Lazarus hear (Sting)

He looked beneath his shirt today
There was a wound in his flesh so deep and wide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside
He turned around to face his mother
To show her the wound in his breast that burned like a brand
But the sword that cut him open
Was the sword in his mother's hand

Every day another miracle
Only death will tear us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
I'd be the blood of the Lazarus heart
The blood of the Lazarus heart

Though the sword was his protection
The wound itself would give him power
The power to remake himself at the time of his darkest hour
She said the wound would give him courage and pain
The kind of pain that you can't hide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside

Every day another miracle
Only death will keep us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
I'd be the blood of the Lazarus heart
The blood of the Lazarus heart

Birds on the roof of my mother's house
I've no stones that chase them away
Birds on the roof of my mother's house
Will sit on my roof some day
They fly at the window, they fly at the door
Where does she get the strength to fight them anymore
She counts all her children as a shield against the pain
Lifts her eyes to the sky like a flower in the rain

Every day another miracle
Only death will keep us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
I'd be the blood of the Lazarus heart
The blood of the Lazarus heart


do livro A canção de amor de J. Alfred Prufrock

Não! Não sou o príncipe Hamlet e nem tinha que ser;
Sou um fidalgo da corte, desses que servem
Para aumentar a comitiva, abrir uma ou duas cenas,
Dar conselhos ao príncipe; instrumento dócil, é claro,
Reverente, satisfeito por ser prestável,
Político, meticuloso e avisado;
Cheio de sentenças doutas, um tanto obtuso todavia;
Às vezes, por sinal, quase ridículo –
Quase o bobo, às vezes.

Estou a ficar velho… Estou a ficar velho…
Hei-de andar com a dobra da calça revirada.

E se eu puxar atrás o risco do cabelo? Arrisco-me a trincar um pêssego?
Hei-de vestir calça de flanela branca e passear na praia.
Já ouvi as sereias cantando, umas às outras.
Creio que para mim não vão cantar.
Tenho-as visto na direcção do mar a cavalgar as ondas
Penteando crinas brancas de ondas encrespadas
Quando o vento revolve as águas escuras e brancas.

Ficámos nas mansões do mar nós dois em abandono
Entre as ondinas e grinaldas de algas castanhas purpurinas
Até que vozes humanas nos despertam e morremos naufragados.


Voices (Cheap Trick)

You didn't know what you were looking for
'Till you heard the voices in your ear.

Hey, it's me again.
Plain, you see again.
Please, can I see you ev'ry day?
I'm a fool again.
I fell in love with you again.
Please, can I see you ev'ry day?

You didn't know what you were looking for
'Till you heard the voices in your ear.
You didn't know what you were looking for
'Till you heard the voices in your ear.

Words don't come out right.
I tried to say it, oh, so right.
I hope you understand my meaning.
Hey, it's me again.
I'm so in love with you again.
Please, can I see you ev'ry day?

You didn't know what you were looking for
'Till you heard the voices in your ear.
You didn't know what you were looking for
'Till you heard the voices in your ear.

I remember ev'ry word you said. (Word you said.)
I remember voices in my head. (In my head.)
I remember ev'ry word you said. (Word you said.)

Your voices. (I)
Cool voices. (hear)
Warm voices. (your)
It was just what I needed to. (voice.)

Cool voices. (Words)
Warm voices. (don't)
Your voices. (seem)
But it's just what I needed for. (right.)

Warm voices. (Love)
Your voices. (is)
Cool voices. (the)
It was just what I needed to. (word.)

Your voices. (I)
Cool voices. (hear)
Warm voices. (your)
It was just what I needed to. (voice.)
Just what I needed to, just what I needed to,
Just what I needed.

You didn't know what you were looking for
'Till you heard the voices in your ear.
You didn't know what you were looking for
'Till you heard the voices in your ear.


Vou correr o risco
De perturbar o universo?
Num só minuto há tempo
Para decisões e revisões, a revogar noutro minuto.


Música:

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

Fundos
Suzanne Cianni

Ligações
Anne Murray, Sting, Cheap Trick

Textos:
T. S. Eliot

Edição e voz:
José-António Moreira


•••|•••|•••


And in the end

the love you'll take

is equal to the love you make

© José-António Moreira 2012