31.12.06

 

Poemas favoritos IX
Favorite poems IX


De Catatau, p. 33

Paulo Leminski

Que flecha é aquela no calcanhar daquilo?
Pela pena, é persa, pela precisão do tiro, um
mestre. Ora, os mestres persas são sempre
velhos. E mestre, persa e velho só pode ser
Artaxerxes ou um irmão, ou um amigo, ou
discípulo, ou então simplesmente alguém que
passava e atirou por despautério num momento
gaudério de distração.
***
Time of War - XVI
W. H. Auden

Here war is simple like a monument:
A telephone is speaking to a man;
Flags on a map assert that troops were sent;
A boy brings milk in bowls. There is a plan

For living men in terror of their lives,
who thirst at nine who were to thirst at noon,
And can be lost and are, and miss their wives,
And, unlike an idea, can die to soon.

But ideas can be true although men die,
And we can watch a thousand faces
Made active by one lie:

And maps can really point to places
Where life is evil now:
Nanking; Dachau.
(Mogadicio, Bhagad)


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