Babe,

Abriu hoje

A FYODOR BOOKS

Livros a 3/5€

"Shotgun stories" de Jeff Nichols, 2007

Legacy

Our memories are quite similar
but pickled alive
in a poison which

accompanies objects too
as a part of this emptiness

The heartning message
that Pythagoras once
would listen to the stars
barely comes down to us now

Then let us hope
our children are learning
to dance in the dark

W. G. Sebald, de "School Latin", Across the Land and Water, Ian Galbraith (trad.) Everyman, New York, 2013.

V. Perdu dans ces filaments

But the certitude nonetheless
That a human heart
Can be crushed - Eli Eli
The choice between Talmud and Torah
Is hard and there is no relying
On Bleston's libraries
Where for years now I have sought
With my hands and eyes the displaced
Books which so they say Mr. Dewey's
International classification system
With all its numbers still cannot record
A World Bibliography of Bibliographies
On ne doit plus dormir says Pascal
A revision of all books at the core
Of the volcano has been long overdue
In this cave within a cave
No glance back to the future survives
Reading star-signs in winter one must
Cut from pollard willows on snowless fields
Flutes of death for Bleston

W. G. Sebald, de "Poemtrees", Across the Land and Water, Ian Galbraith (trad.) Everyman, New York, 2013

Joshua Oppenheimer, sobre "The act of killing"

Timetable

Grown sheepish
by morning I study
the grounds of my coffee

At midday I cut
a slice for myself
from the hollow pumpkin of summer

And not until dark do I risk again
the Cretan trick
of leaping between the horns

W. G. Sebald, Across the Land and Water: Selected Poems, 1964-2001, Ian Galbraith (trad.), Modern Library, New York, 2013.

"Feral" de Daniel Sousa, 2013

"Wittgenstein" de Derek Jarman, 1993

O Angelopoulos Faz Filmes Parados

I've always been irritated by the way that montage is such an artificial process, dictated by a cinema of efficacy. For example, a man enters, stops, and waits. In the cinema of efficacy this waiting is conveyed through montage, whereas in my work there is no montage — the scene exists in a time scale which is not reduced for the sake of efficacy. There is a material, concrete sense of time; real time, not evoked time. In my films "dead time" is built in, scripted, intended. Just as music is a conjunction of sound and silence, "dead time" in my films is musical, rhythmic — but not the rhythm of American films, where time is always cinematic time. In my films the spectator is not drawn in by artificial means, he remains inside and outside at the same time, with the opportunity of passing judgement. The pauses, the "dead time," give him the chance not only to assess the film rationally, but also to create, or complete, the different meanings of a sequence.

Theo Angelopoulos. in Theo Angelopoulos: Interviews (Entrevista de 1980 por Tony Mitchell). Dan Fainaru (ed.) University Press of Mississippi (2001)

Mortes e Motores

Descemos por sobre as casas

Numa curva apertada e,

Num extremo do aeroporto de Paris,

Vimos um túnel vazio

– A metade traseira de um avião, negra

Sobre a neve, ninguém à volta,

Tubular, queimado, glacial.

Quando enfrentámos de novo

No escuro as pistas brancas com a neve,

Nem um som se sobrepôs

Aos altifalantes, excepto os suspiros

Solitários do piloto.

O frio das asas de metal é contagioso:

Em breve precisarás das tuas próprias asas,

Encurralado na encruzilhada onde

Tempo e vida, como faca e garfo,

Se cruzam, a linha da vida na tua palma da mão

Se parte, e a curva deixada pela passagem de um avião

Se encontra com a linha rasa do horizonte.

Imagens de alívio:

Pijamas de hospital, ecrãs à volta de uma cama,

Um homem de cara ensanguentada,

Sentado no catre, conversa animado

Por entre lábios cheios de cortes:

Vão acabar por te deixar ficar mal.

Vais dar por ti sozinho,

A acelerar em direcção a um beco

Sem saída, tarde de mais para parar,

E vais saber como é leve a morte;

Ficarás espalhado como destroços,

Pedaços de ti, cada um de formato diferente,

Hão-de projectar-se, ficarão alojados no coração

Daqueles que te amam.

Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin, in Estradas Secundárias: Doze Poetas Irlandeses, Hugo Pinto Santos (Tradução, Selecção e Posfácio), Ítaca, Artefacto, 2013.

She was the music heard faintly at the edge of sound.

Perhaps by now she realizes that I tried, and that I regarded the sacrifice of several years of a rather insignificant literary career as a small price to pay, if I could make her smile a few times more.

Raymond Chandler.

A kite is a victim

A kite is a victim you are sure of.
You love it because it pulls
gentle enough to call you master,
strong enough to call you fool;
because it lives
like a trained falcon
in the high sweet air,
and you can always haul it down
to tame in your drawer.

A kite is a fish you have already caught
in a pool where no fish come,
so you play him carefully and long,
and hope he won't give up,
or the wind die down.

A kite is the last poem you have written,
so you give it to the wind,
but you don't let it go
until someone finds you
something else to do.

A kite is a contract of glory
that must be made with the sun,
so you make friends with the field
the river and the wind,
then you pray the whole cold night before,
under the traveling cordless moon,
to make you worthy and lyric and pure.

Leonard Cohen in The Spice-Box of Earth, Strange Music, Jonathan Cape, 1993

Herberto

Com tanta coisa que vale a pena dizer sobre o último livro do Herberto (nem que seja pela estúpida alegria masturbatória de poder dizer versos daquilo no repeat), a conversa ser sobre tiragens e número de exemplares e alfarrabistas especuladores, de resto a mesma conversa há anos. 

Chato.

3 Poemas de «Deixa-nos Comparar Mitologias» de Leonard Cohen

Fotografia de Lindsay Bottos-Sewell

POEMA

Falaram-me de um homem
que diz palavras tão belamente
que basta pronunciar-lhes o nome
para as mulheres se lhe entregarem.

Se é mudo que estou ao lado do teu corpo
enquanto como tumores o silêncio floresce nos nossos lábios
é porque oiço um homem subir as escadas
e aclarar a garganta à nossa porta.

O Sheik

Documentário

Ladies & Gentleman... Mr Leonard Cohen

Poem Unlimited

δούπησεν δὲ πεσών, ἀράβησε δὲ τεύχε’ ἐπ’ αὐτῷ.
αἵματί οἱ δεύοντο κόμαι Χαρίτεσσιν ὁμοῖαι
πλοχμοί θ’, οἳ χρυσῷ τε καὶ ἀργύρῳ ἐσφήκωντο.
οἷον δὲ τρέφει ἔρνος ἀνὴρ ἐριθηλὲς ἐλαίης
χώρῳ ἐν οἰοπόλῳ, ὅθ’ ἅλις ἀναβέβροχεν ὕδωρ,
καλὸν τηλεθάον· τὸ δέ τε πνοιαὶ δονέουσι
παντοίων ἀνέμων, καί τε βρύει ἄνθεϊ λευκῷ·
ἐλθὼν δ’ ἐξαπίνης ἄνεμος σὺν λαίλαπι πολλῇ
βόθρου τ’ ἐξέστρεψε καὶ ἐξετάνυσσ’ ἐπὶ γαίῃ·
τοῖον Πάνθου υἱὸν ἐϋμμελίην Εὔφορβον
Ἀτρεΐδης Μενέλαος ἐπεὶ κτάνε...

Ilíada 17

And he fell with a thud, and over him his armor clanged. In blood was his hair drenched that was like the hair of the Graces, and his tresses that were braided with gold and silver. And as a man rears a lusty sapling of an olive in a lonely place where water wells up abundantly, a noble sapling and fair-growing; and the breezes of all the winds make it quiver, and it burgeons out with white blossoms; but suddendly the wind coming with a mighty tempest tears it out of its hollow, and lays it low on the earth, even so did Menelaus, son of Atreus, slay Panthous' son, Euphorbus of the good ashen spear...

Tradução de A. Murray (Loeb, 1925).