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sábado, julho 23, 2011

Why do I stand silent even I have a mouth....



I stand under a tree of hungry hands
No
I stand under NONE
I go to isolation
an empty and absolute isolation
Traverse the desert miles after miles
And last city
I left behind me a long time
Go to great doubt
go to a doubt
vanishes by bigger doubt.
Why do I stand silent
even I have a mouth
Why do I stand idle
even I have feet
Why don’t I look
even I have eyes
Why don’t I scream and I am caught in this misery
because I am made of stone.
There is something I cannot reach it
I do not know what is
I stretch out to it
Air air… air!
What are you looking for in the sky?
I’m looking for an image of star which doesn’t exist.
With my two own eyes
on the other side
I should reach/access the darkness.
But who could to see the difference
between darkness and green?
I will be travelling to Aredo
and I will ornament my broken jars
with an image of goat’s red-horn
I will be travelling to Aredo
and marry the Goldsmith’s dead daughter
in the evening
sitting on the threshold of the door
I hear the neighbour’s smile
The newly hatched flies
Around the glare oil’s lamp
Yes, now
Suddenly, I see the Chestnuts tree
In the darkness, contemplating white flowers:
We are dust.

Tor Ulven (1953–1995)

 Uma elementar homenagem a todos os que morreram ontem e morrem todos os dias vítimas da perversa violência dos extremismos que odeiam o diferente, buscando, delirantemente, sempre e apenas o igual a si. 

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