Receita de ano novo - Carlos Drummond Andrade

Para você ganhar belíssimo Ano Novo

cor do arco-íris, ou da cor da sua paz,

Ano Novo sem comparação com todo o tempo já vivido

(mal vivido talvez ou sem sentido)

para você ganhar um ano

não apenas pintado de novo, remendado às carreiras,

mas novo nas sementinhas do vir-a-ser;

novo até no coração das coisas menos percebidas

(a começar pelo seu interior)

novo, espontâneo, que de tão perfeito nem se nota,

mas com ele se come, se passeia,

se ama, se compreende, se trabalha,

você não precisa beber champanha ou qualquer outra birita,

não precisa expedir nem receber mensagens (planta recebe mensagens? passa telegramas?)

Não precisa fazer lista de boas intenções para arquivá-las na gaveta.

Não precisa chorar arrependido

pelas besteiras consumidas

nem parvamente acreditar

que por decreto de esperança

a partir de Janeiro as coisas mudem

e seja tudo claridade, recompensa,

justiça entre os homens e as nações,

liberdade com cheiro e gosto de pão matinal,

direitos respeitados, começando

pelo direito augusto de viver.

Para ganhar um Ano Novo

que mereça este nome,

você, meu caro, tem de merecê-lo,

tem de fazê-lo novo, eu sei que não é fácil,

mas tente, experimente, consciente.

É dentro de você que o Ano Novo

cochila e espera desde sempre.

I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing

Watch you smile while you are sleeping

While youre far away dreaming

I could spend my life in this sweet surrender

I could stay lost in this moment forever

Every moment spent with you is a moment

I treasureDont want to close my eyes

I dont want to fall asleep

Cause Id miss you baby

And I dont want to miss a thing

Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream will never do

Id still miss you baby

And I dont want to miss a thing

Lying close to you feeling your heart beating

And Im wondering what youre dreaming

Wondering if its me youre seeing

Then I kiss your eyes

And thank God were together

I just want to stay with you in this moment forever

Forever and ever

Dont want to close my eyes

I dont want to fall asleep

Cause Id miss you baby

And I dont want to miss a thing

Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream will never do

Id still miss you baby

And I dont want to miss a thing

I dont want to miss one smile

I dont want to miss one kiss

I just want to be with you

Right here with you, just like this

I just want to hold you close

Feel your heart so close to mine

And just stay here in this moment

For all the rest of time

Dont want to close my eyes

I dont want to fall asleep

Cause Id miss you baby

And I dont want to miss a thing

Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream will never do

Id still miss you baby

And I dont want to miss a thing

Dont want to close my eyes

I dont want to fall asleep

I dont want to miss a thing

Não toques nos objectos imediatos

Não toques nos objectos imediatos.
A harmonia queima.
Por mais leve que seja um bule ou uma chavená,são loucos todos os objectos.
Uma jarra com um crisântemo transparentetem um tremor oculto.
É terrível no escuro.
Mesmo o seu nome, só a medo o podes dizer.
A boca fica em chaga.
(Herberto Helder)

Memory (Thomas Bailey Aldrich)

Memory

My mind lets go a thousand things,
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings,
And yet recalls the very hour--
'Twas noon by yonder village tower,
And on the last blue noon in May--
The wind came briskly up this way,
Crisping the brook beside the road;
Then, pausing here, set down its load
Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly
Two petals from that wild-rose tree.

(Thomas Bailey Aldrich)

Just Walking Around - John Ashbery

Just Walking Around

What name do I have for you?
Certainly there is no name for you
In the sense that the stars have names
That somehow fit them. Just walking around,

An object of curiosity to some,
But you are too preoccupied
By the secret smudge in the back of your soul
To say much and wander around,

Smiling to yourself and others.
It gets to be kind of lonely
But at the same time off-putting.
Counterproductive, as you realize once again

That the longest way is the most efficient way,
The one that looped among islands, and
You always seemed to be traveling in a circle.
And now that the end is near

The segments of the trip swing open like an orange.
There is light in there and mystery and food.
Come see it.
Come not for me but it.
But if I am still there, grant that we may see each other.

(John Ashbery)

Alone - Edgar Allan Poe

Alone

From childhood’s hour I have not been

As others were—I have not seen

As others saw—I could not bring

My passions from a common spring—From the same source

I have not takenMy sorrow—I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone—

And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—

Then—in my childhood—in the dawn

Of a most stormy life—was drawn

From ev’ry depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still

—From the torrent, or the fountain—

From the red cliff of the mountain—

From the sun that ’round me roll’d

In its autumn tint of gold—

From the lightning in the sky

As it pass’d me flying by

—From the thunder, and the storm—

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view—

(Edgar Allan Poe)

Mother and Child

Mother and Child

We’re all dreamers;

we don’t know who we are.

Some machine made us;

machine of the world, the constricting family.

Then back to the world, polished by soft whips.

We dream; we don’t remember.

Machine of the family: dark fur, forests of the mother’s body.

Machine of the mother: white city inside her.

And before that: earth and water.

Moss between rocks, pieces of leaves and grass.

And before, cells in a great darkness.

And before that, the veiled world.

This is why you were born: to silence me.

Cells of my mother and father, it is your turnto be pivotal, to be the masterpiece.

I improvised; I never remembered.

Now it’s your turn to be driven;

you’re the one who demands to know:Why do I suffer?

Why am I ignorant?Cells in a great darkness.

Some machine made us;it is your turn to address it, to go back askingwhat am I for?

What am I for?

(Louise Glück)