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She - Charles Aznavour

SHE (Charles Aznavour)

She
May be the face I can't forget
A trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred tearful things
Within the measure of the day.

She
May be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside a shell

She who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She may be the love that can and hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
That I remember till the day I die

She
May be the reason I survive
The why and where for I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and rainy years
Me I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I got to be
The meaning of my life is

She, she, she

"For poems are not, as people think, simply emotions (one has emotions early enough)—they are experiences."

“Por que poemas não são só, como muita gente pensa, simplesmente emoção (sentimos emoções desde muito cedo) -eles são experiências.”

Rainer Maria Rilke

‘I am the place where creation is working itself out’ - ‘The Outpost’ by Tomas Tranströmer

Posted by makemeadiva

Tomas Tranströmer - Nobel Prize for Literature 2011

We are surrounded by the white noise of words these days. As much as I hear, there is more to be heard. As much as I read, there is more to be read.

So to stumble upon a poem that you can see, and feel, and offer an unconditional home in your soul is like finding an enduring, if challenging, friendship on life’s journey.

Stories, books, they leave only fading impressions as time passes; maybe the odd leitmotif lodges itself in your consciousness. You might re-read a book to remind yourself of the story, and of yourself.

But a poem that resonates is an instant passion. Like an arrow through your heart, or ‘an ever-fixed mark’, to quote Shakespeare. Here’s one such from the Swedish poet Tomas Tranströmer who many may never have heard of before yesterday (including me) when he won the Nobel Prize for literature.

A google around finds his work described as that which ‘barrels into the void’, a phrase I find profoundly reassuring. That his poetry has this quality doesn’t seem a surprise when you learn he was a psychologist working in prisons for much of his professional life.

Whatever, he’s got my attention alright.

This, from ’20 Poems’ by Tomas Tranströmer, translated by Robert Bly, Seventies Press (1970)

After A Death

Once there was a shock
that left behind a long, shimmering comet tail.
It keeps us inside. It makes the TV pictures snowy.
It settles in cold drops on the telephone wires.

One can still go slowly on skis in the winter sun
through brush where a few leaves hang on.
They resemble pages torn from old telephone directories.
Names swallowed by the cold.

It is still beautiful to feel the heart beat
but often the shadow seems more real than the body.
The samurai looks insignificant
beside his armour of black dragon scales.

http://makemeadiva.wordpress.com/2011/10/07/i-am-the-place-where-creation-is-working-itself-out-from-the-outpost-by-tomas-transtromer/

LAS PALABRAS

"Quiero cerrar los ojos,

pretender que no pasa nada

pero la verdad escupe mi rostro

tus silencios gritan las palabras

que me he negado a escuchar

Quiero soltarte y verte volar lejos

mis sentidos me dicen que muy lejos te iras,

que no piensas regresar a este lugar

Quiero soltarte y verte volar lejos

pero el miedo a perderte me ha parado en seco."

Se eu fosse...

Se eu fosse um mês: Junho (lembra festa de aniversário)
Se eu fosse um dia da semana:Sexta (antecipando o descanso)
Se eu fosse uma hora do dia: manhã (realização de que a vida continua)
Se eu fosse uma direção: Oeste (como Califórnia e Bahia)
Se eu fosse um pecado: gula (de comida, sexo, sono, musica, livros...)
Se eu fosse um líquido: vinho (fico melhor com o tempo, rá)
Se eu fosse uma flor: margarida (dá em todo canto)
Se eu fosse uma estação: verão
Se eu fosse uma cor: vermelho
Se eu fosse um animal: borboleta ou passarinho (voar, voar, voar...)
Se eu fosse um barulho: cascatas (agua no deserto)
Se eu fosse uma comida: moqueca, oxente! (bota dendê nisso)
Se eu fosse uma sobremesa: sorvete de manga (minha fruta preferida)
Se eu fosse um lugar: aqui e agora (qualquer lugar pra mim tá bom)
Se eu fosse um gosto: pele (de cabo a rabo)

Se eu fosse uma parte do corpo: mãos e olhos
Se eu fosse uma expressão facial: sorriso
Se eu fosse uma matéria: literatura
Se eu fosse um número: zero (faz diferença, dependendo onde o colocas)

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