[cecília meireles, em sua última entrevista] "a juventude de hoje? acho que são meninos que não têm tempo de crescer. saltam do apartamento fechado para a calçada de mil solicitações, sem armadura, sem objetivo, sem a necessária religiosidade. a vida passa a ser uma coisa zoológica. muitos crescem zoologicamente. inventam modas, mas como não têm essência de verdade, as modas não pegam. as frustrações crescem. felizmente muitos se realizam apesar de tudo. cada geração acredita que traz uma nova voz e uma nova mensagem"

[adélia prado, em trégua] hoje estou velha como quero ficar. / sem nenhuma estridência. / dei os desejos todos por memória / e rasa xícara de chá

[christina rossetti, em a birthday] my heart is like a rainbow shell / that paddles in a halcyon sea

[christina rossetti, em a pageant] but meanwhile i've a rainbow in my showers, / and a lapful of flowers / (...) and gathering flowers i listened to the song / of every bird in bower. / the world and i are far too full of bliss / to think or plan or toil or care; / the sun is waxing strong, / the days are waxing long, / and all that is, / is fair

[mary oliver, em when i'm among the trees] never hurry through the world / but walk slowly and bow often

[manoel de barros, em a menina avoada] quis pegar / entre meus dedos / a manhã,/ peguei o vento

[manoel de barros, em um novo jó] não ter nunca chegada / nunca optar por nada / ir andando pequeno sob a chuva / torto como um pé de maçã

[edgar allan poe, numa carta para sarah helen whitman] "a profound sympathy took immediate possession of my soul. i cannot better explain to you what i felt than by saying that your unknown heart seemed to pass into my bosom - there to dwell forever - while mine, i thought, was translated into your own. from that hour i loved you. yes, i now feel it was then - on that evening of sweet dreams - that the very first dawn of human love burst upon the icy night of my spirit"

[william wordsworth, em my heart leaps up] my heart leaps up when i behold / a rainbow in the sky: / so was it when my life began; / so is it now i am a man; / so be it when i shall grow old, / or let me die! / the child is father of the man; / and i could wish my days to be / bound each to each by natural piety

[hilda hilst, em xvi (baladas)] há uma paisagem sem cor dentro de mim. / vejo-a tão perto e tão esplêndida... / súbita luz, nave dourada, espelho, / e transformando-se em névoa / intacta submerge. / sem dúvida, meu amigo, a ilha / seria o nosso porto. / e depois dela viria o monólogo / e a certeza das coisas impossíveis

[caio fernando abreu, em limite branco] "levantar-me, aos poucos, como um pé de vento, lentamente crescendo, incorporando outros seres a mim, e girando, girando sempre, tornar-me tormenta, furacão, vendaval, terremoto, cataclismo. ou me dissolveria em poeira à primeira brisa que soprasse - quem sabe?"

[caio fernando abreu, em limite branco] "acontecem coisas estranhas quando estou num espaço muito amplo. uma vontade de voar, parece que bastaria abrir os braços para fundir-me com o céu. ao mesmo tempo, dá vontade também de ficar na terra, e viver, viver muito, com todas as miudezas do cotidiano. impressão de ser maior que tudo, sensação de força, certeza de vitória, vitória tão certa e fácil como as coisas da natureza que se mostram ali. e também uma grande humildade, consciência de ser ínfimo em relação ao azul-azul do céu, ao azul-sem cor do rio"

[mário quintana, em xv (a rua dos cataventos] o dia abriu seu parasol bordado / de nuvens e de verde ramaria. / e estava até um fumo, que subia, / mi-nu-ci-o-sa-men-te desenhado. / depois surgiu, no céu azul arqueado, / a lua - a lua! - e em pleno meio-dia. / na rua, um menininho que seguia / parou, ficou a olhá-la admirado... / pus meus sapatos na janela alta, / sobre o rebordo... céu é que lhes falta / para suportarem a existência rude! / e eles sonham, imóveis, deslumbrados, / que são dois velhos barcos, encalhados / sobre a margem tranquila de um açude...

[mário quintana, em quem bate? (sapato florido)] cecília. cecília que chega de um pátio da infância... traz ainda sereno nas tranças, seus sapatinhos andaram pulando na grama... depois assenta-se nos degraus da torre, e canta... mas o chaveiro do sonho pegou-lhe as tranças, teceu cordoalhas para o seu navio. mas o chaveiro do sonho pegou-lhe a canção... e fez um vento longo e triste. e eu pensava que toda a minha tristeza vinha apenas do vento, da solidão do mar, da incerteza daquela viagem num navio perdido...

[tove jansson, em the summer book] "grandmother walked up over the bare granite and thought about birds in general. it seemed to her no other creature had the same dramatic capacity to underline and perfect events - the shifts in the seasons and the weather, the changes that run through people themselves. she thought about migratory birds, and the thrush on a summer evening, and the cuckoo - yes, the cuckoo - and the great, cold birds that sail and watch, and the very small birds that sweep in for hasty visits in large late-summer parties, chubby, dumb, and unafraid, and about the swallows and that only honor houses where the people are happy. it seemed remarkable that the impersonal birds should have become such powerful symbols. or maybe not"

[hilda hilst, em ode fragmentária] e contudo o que mais somos / são estes sonhos / adentros indevassáveis / bosques / lilazes / caminhos levando ao mar / aves / aves.

[hilda hilst, em memória, 9 (trajetória poética do ser)] ressuscitei memórias na manhã de ventos / e abrasei-me de um sol sem arvoredos

[tove jansson, em finn family moomintroll] "it was the end of august - the time when owls hoot at night and flurries of bats swoop noiselessly over the garden. moomin wood was full of glow-worms, and the sea was disturbed. there was expectation and a certain sadness in the air, and the harvest moon came up huge and yellow. moomintroll had always liked those last weeks of summer most, but he didn't really know why"

[tove jansson, em finn family moomintroll] "but perhaps the happiest of all is moomintroll who goes home through the garden with his mother, just as the moon is fading in the dawn, and the trees rustling in the morning breeze which comes up from the sea"

[arthur rimbaud, em after the flood] ever after the moon heard jackals howling / across the deserts of thyme, / and eclogues in wooden shoes growling in the orchard. / then in the violet and budding forest, / eucharis told me it was spring

[arthur rimbaud, em phrases] i stretched out ropes from spire to spire; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and i dance

[tove jansson, em the exploits of moominpappa] "we like changing things, all that is unexpected and strange and mixed-up, like beaches, and sunsets, and spring"

[tove jansson, em the exploits of moominpappa] "[...] 'my tree on the sunside', the joxter continued dreamily. 'songs and apples and sleeping late, you know. nobody buzzing around and telling me that things cannot be postponed. i'm going to let things run themselves'. 'and do they?' asked the muddler. 'do they?' exclaimed the joxter. 'just leave them alone and you'll be surprised the oranges grow, and the flowers open, and now and then a new joxter is born to eat them and smell them. and the sun shines on it all'"

[arthur rimbaud, em the orphan's new year's gifts] and a boundless blue sky peeks / through the window; / nature awakens, drunk with daylight... / the earth, half-naked, happily reborn, / shivers with joy under sunbeam kisses...

[arthur rimbaud, em comedy of thirst] but to disappear / with the wandering clouds... / -and to be blessed by cool... / and to die with these damp violets / that dawn dumps into the woods?

[arthur rimbaud, em a heart under a cassock] can't you guess why i'm dying of love? / flowers say hello; and birds above. / i greet the spring! angel of tenderness! / can't you guess why i'm boiling with drunkenness! / from grandmothers to candles / runs a bright ring of angels. / but haven't you heard? / i'm becoming a bird! / my lyre quivers as my wings shiver / like a swallow...

[arthur rimbaud, numa carta para théodore de banville (24 de maio de 1870] "i've set out to express my good thoughts, my hopes, my feelings, the provinces of poets - i call all of this spring"

[arthur rimbaud, numa carta para paul demeny (15 de maio de 1871] "the poet is really a thief of fire. humanity, and even the animals, are his burden; he must make sure his inventions live and breath; if what he finds down bellow has a form, he offers a form: if it is formless, he offers formless. find the words"

[arthur rimbaud, numa carta para paul verlaine (4 de julho de 1873] "come back, come back, dear friend, only friend, come back. i promise to be good. (...) come back. be brave, dear friend. all is not lost. you only need to come back. we will live here once again, bravely, patiently. i'm begging you. (...) tell me you haven't forgotten me. you couldn't. i always have you with me. (...) listen to your heart. now tell me if i should come join you. my life is yours"

[arthur rimbaud, numa carta para a família (25 de maio de 1881] "alas! i am not very fond of life; and if i live, i am used to living with exhaustion; but it i am forced to continue to exhaust myself like this, and to feed on sorrows as unremitting as they are ridiculous in these horrible climates, i suspect it will lead to an abridgment of my existence [...] finally, might we enjoy a few years of real rest in this life; and happily this life is the only life, and that is evident, as one could not possibly imagine another life more boring than this one"

[arthur rimbaud, numa carta para a família (2 de setembro de 1881] "all i ask for in this life is a pleasant climate and agreeable work, something interesting: and i'll find it, one day or another!"

[edna st. vincent millay, em afternoon on a hill] i will be the gladdest thing / under the sun! / i will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one. / i will look at cliffs and clouds / with quiet eyes, / watch the wind bow down the grass, / and the grass rise. / and when lights begin to show / up from the town, / i will mark which must be mine, / and then start down!

[edna st. vincent millay, em vigils with imaginary lover] my life is but a seeking after life; / i live but in a great desire to live

[joseph sheridan le fanu, em carmilla] "as meninas são como lagartas enquanto vivem no mundo e, enfim, viram borboletas quando o verão chega. mas, nesse meio-tempo, há vermes e larvas, você não vê? cada um com suas propensões, necessidades e estruturas particulares"

[lucy maud, em shore twilight] like a dumb poet's soul the troubled sea / moans of its joy and sorrow wordlessly

[lucy maud, em the sea spirit] when moonlight glimmers dim / i pass in the path of the mist, / like a pale spirit by spirits kissed

jun 6 2024 ∞
oct 14 2024 +