Saturday, December 31, 2005



EQUUS
(Luz... Porto)
Cansei de ser o cavalo.
Quero ser eu a amazona
A galopar nua qual Godiva insana
Noite adentro, tardes afora.
Cansei de ser o vaso,
O receptáculo de um espírito
Que desconheço,
Que me atormenta com seus tormentos,
Seus medos, seus fantasmas, sua dor.
Por que tenho de ser eu
Apenas emissário de um rei desconhecido?
Um autômato, um títere,
Nas mãos de alguma divindade cruel?
Se é o caos o que nos espera,
Deixai-me beber do veneno
Que corre quente em minhas veias.
Deixai-me ir pelas ruas, trôpega,
Embriagada de luar e poesia
Até achar o mais alto penhasco
De onde possa me lançar, enfim, para o Grande Nada.


Suicídio
(Luz... Porto)
Corto os pulsos com gilete cega.
Corto, mas o sangue já secou em mim
E assim estou diante do espelho:
Nua, só, com talhos profundos.
Veias ressecadas,
O coração parado
E a alma muda.
Do que eu fui
Só me resta o espectro,
Um reflexo impreciso
A cintilar na noite infecunda.

Sunday, December 25, 2005


Sob a Lua nº2
(Luz... Porto)
inspirado em Li Stoducto
Sob a lua, o vinil
A rodar na vitrola.
Por entre as janelas entreabertas
A sombra dos galhos e das folhas
Projeta-se nas paredes
E no espelho
Onde,eu, tonta,
Cantarolo canções perdidas
Enquanto te espero...



20,000 miles under the sea
(Luz... Porto)
I took a ship
That would take me to Treasure Island.
Instead, she decided I should visit
The bed of the sea.
Deeper and deeper down she went
Into the abyss.
I fainted.
When I came over
I could see crabs, shellfish,
Octopuses and squids.
The creatures looked at me
With their round puzzled eyes
And offered me plankton to eat
(That was all we had
to celebrate my being there).
Mermaids charmed me
With their tunes-
Poor Penelope was I
Looking for my lost Odysseus.
Algae cloth I wove
Trying to make my own shroud
(I was not sure whether
I was dead or not)
But the big fish ate it.
'That's meaningless', they said,
'What's the point of that?'.
I was protected against
Storms and tempests from above.
After some time, however,
I got bored.
I missed a port, my port, my name.
I looked forward to hearing
The hustle and bustle from my small town.
I cried tears
And my liquid feelings gave me
The strange sensation of being pregnant.
I surfaced and was found unconscious
By two sailors.
When I got over from
What they called 'my delirium'
All I could find on the shore
Was an oyster with a black pearl inside...



The art of pottery
(Luz... Porto)
"Remember, O man,
that thou are dust
and unto dust
thou shall return."
(Genesis 3:19)
Take a middle-sized vase
(one of soft clay made)
And smash it into tiny pieces.
Bring the pieces into your heart -
Or soul - through the bars that
Prevent you from your true art.
Melt them with boiling tears
Until they seem just a block of mud.
Mix the the mud with your fingers,
Feel it, touch it, listen to it.
Then mould a vase
- not the former-
But the one you have always dreamed of.
Bake the clay on the fire
That burns inside your spirit,
Wait for as long as it demands
And you will have a pot of your own.
That is the only way to creation.
That is just how we can be saved.



L'étrangère
(Luz... Porto)
"Call unto me, and I will answer thee,
and show thee great and might things,
which thou knowest not."
(Jeremiah 33:3)
In a foreign language
I say my prayer.
In a language I heard of
Somewhere in my dreams-
Or in my despair.
Its grammar, its syntax
And its phonetics I ignore.
It appeals to me
When I am lonely
When my heart bleeds
When no words come to my tongue
When my eyes are dry of tears
When no sweat comes through my body.
Will God understand my devotion?
I cannot answer...
Perhaps he may read the lines of my hands
Or see the secret paths of my soul
Or listen to the strange rythm of my heart.
Maybe he will have mercy on me
And teach me my own idiom.
For I have just realized
I am a perfect strange to myself.




À bout de souffle
(Luz... Porto)
Oh, foul creature from the darkness,
Do not sting me
With your poisonous tail.
Do not let that lethal substance of yours
Flow through my veins.
We have once been good friends,
Yes, we have.
Trust me. I do not want to hurt you.
Do not be a suicidal.
If you kill me
That's you who shall be buried
In a lonely funeral.
I have already been stabbed
Right into my breast.
Dark blood has come out
From my heart.
I have been kept on a steel leash
To prove my obedience.
(Obedience to whom? I simply ignore that)
Poor dear friend
You are the one and only
I can talk to.
I know you understand my feelings
I know you are stuck to me.
But I also know you are scared to death...
(You fear I may drown in quicksand, don't you?)
Think twice before you make up your mind
Do not let yourself be led by despair.
You are not walled up, you are not.
You can escape and so can I.
Go back to the damp rocks
Where you used to live
And let me go on along my solitary path.


Meio-a-meio
(Luz... Porto)
Em meio a um terremoto
Causado não por contrações da Terra
Mas sim pela secura, pela seca,
Nosso Éden secreto fendeu-se em dois,
Em vinte, em duzentos.
E, em busca da terceira margem
Vaguei entre um bloco de terra e outro,
De bloco em bloco, atrás de ti.
Que amarelinha perversa!
Tu mal me vias, imerso em teu próprio mundo.
A terra abria-se por sob meus pés
Mas permanecias ereto, estático, impassível.
A fenda só se tornava maior e mais funda.
Eu te via afastar-te de mim
Sem responderes a meus acenos.
Eu, barco ébrio, sem rumo nem prumo,
Sem achar nem uma nem outra margem.
Só, no meu destino de eterna exilada.