natalia

“Todas as vezes que olho para a estrada percorrida, onde já ficou muito do sangue, suor e lágrimas que a vida nos reserva, recordo um certo trecho de um romance de Erico Veríssimo: um rapaz e uma rapariga transpõem a cerca da Universidade; acabam de lhes entregar o diploma de médicos e, com ele, um futuro de imprevistos e de abismos. Cá fora, no largo, onde a sombra altiva de uma estátua se levanta, no céu estrelado, Olívia espalha pelo chão o ramo de flores que lhe haviam oferecido, enrola o diploma e por ele espreita, irreverente, os astros enigmáticos- um óculo mágico a desvendar o amanhã. O companheiro, com essa melancolia desiludida que vem depois das esperanças realizadas, espreme as mãos vazias, a vida abre-se de súbito a seus pés, inesperada, pavorosa como um fosso. Ele tem atrás de si durezas e humilhações e pressente que não pode haver outra coisa a aguardar-lo.”
― Fernando Namora, Retalhos da Vida de um Médico

“The Sky is full to the brim with autumn
as the season makes its way to across it.
It is as if I had no worries at all.
so I could count all the stars nestled in autumn.
Yet i cannot quite finish counting all those stars
that are settling in my heart one by one,
because mornings have a way of coming swiftly,
because tomorrow's night is still to come,
and because the fire of my heart hasn't burn out yet.
I see memories in one star
and love in another
and loneliness
my longings
and poetry in each
and Mother in another, Mother.
Mother, I am trying to call out a beautiful word for each star.
Names of the kids I shared desk with in a grade school, such foreign
girls names as Pae, Kyeong, Ok, and the girls who have become
mothers already, my poor neighbors, the doves, puppies, rabbits,
mules, roe deer, Francies Jammes and Rheiner
Maria Rilke - I call
such names of poets.
They are all so far away from me.
Just as the stars are ever distant.
And mother,
you are in North Gando which is so far away.
Longing for something I couldn't name,
I wrote my own name on this hill
which is bright with all the starlight landing,
but then I covered it up again with dirt.
True, some insects chirp through the night
because they lament their shameful names.
Yet when spring comes around to my star after winter,
even on this hill where my name is buried,
shrubs will grow thick as if boasting
like the green grass that sprouts on a grave.”
― Yun Dong-ju, Sky, Wind, and Stars

“Eu sou a que no mundo anda perdida, eu sou a que na vida não tem norte.”
― Florbela Espanca

“This time no one's looking for love
down between the sheds, the old houses, among the twittering
masts and rigging. A boat, a prau that will never sail again
puffs and snorts, thinking there's something it can catch
The drizzle brings darkness. An eagle's wings flap,
brushing against the gloom; the day whispers, swimming silkily
away to meet harbor temptations yet to come. Nothing moves
and now the sand and the sea are asleep, the waves gone.

That's all. I'm alone. Walking,
combing the cape, still choking back the hope
of getting to the end and, just once, saying the hell with it
from this fourth beach, embracing the last, the final sob.”
― Chairil Anwar, The Complete Poetry and Prose of Chairil Anwar