"JE EST UN AUTRE"
Ele é o homem que toma notas,
O observador de chapéu alto preto,
De rosto oculto pela aba:
Em três cidades europeias
Tem-me visto a mim a olhá-lo.
Ă€ esquina de uma rua em Buda e depois
Junto aos correios, um vislumbre
Das abas do casaco sumindo-se
Deu esclarecimento igual e, examinado,
O aperto na garganta.
Outra vez, num encontro ao pé do Sena,
Com as águas um chão de estrelas a mexer,
Quando eu cheguei À porta já se fora,
Mas no pavimento, e ainda aceso,
Lá estava um dos seus habituais charutos pretos.
O encontro na escura escadaria
Onde a maré corria escorreita como um tear:
O atraiçoá-la, os beijos dela,
A tudo ele assistiu: quantas vezes
O ouço rir no quarto ao lado.
Observa-me agora trabalhando até tarde
A dar vida a um poema; os olhos
Reflectem a doença de Nerval:
Inútil é nesta velha casa interrogar
Espelhos, a sua máscara impenetrável.
Lawrence Durrell
Leituras
poemas do inglês
Prefácio e tradução de
João Ferreira Duarte
Relógio d’ Água
HOMERO CEGO
Outra vez uma noite de Inverno, e a Lua
Tinge vagamente os mármores e retira-se.
Os seis pinheiros silvam e retesam-se e ali
A oriente, onde as estrelas gregas se apagam e revivem
Cada noite em resplandecentes banhos de som,
Detém-se o pincel impregnado da manhã.
Agora, todos cederam ao Inverno
Coisas caducas, a pele da cobra e as armas do veado,
Pele rejeitada da uva e da poesia.
Homero cego, os lagartos ainda sorvem o calor
Das pedras, e a Primavera repete-se ainda,
Silenciosa como moedas nos cabelos,
Ditongo após ditongo interminavelmente.
Troca um olhar com aquele cuja arte
Se alia À introspecção contra a solidão,
Neste Fevereiro de 1946, pulso normal, nervos em repouso:
Herdeiro de uma perturbação parecida, ultimamente
Cada vez menos convencido dos seus dotes com as palavras,
Ao pé deste prato de azeitonas, deste tinteiro seco.
Lawrence Durrell
Leituras
poemas do inglês
Prefácio e tradução de
João Ferreira Duarte
Relógio d’ Água
3 comentários:
Teve uma vida animada. Sucesso, 4 casamentos, viagens...Morte sĂşbita aos 78 anos...
Lawrence George Durrell (February 27, 1912 – November 7, 1990) was a British novelist, poet, dramatist, and travel writer, though he resisted affiliation with Britain and preferred to be considered cosmopolitan. His most famous work is The Alexandria Quartet, a tetralogy.
He was born in Jullundur, India, the son of Indian-born British colonials. At the age of eleven, was sent to attend school in England — a country in which he was never happy and which he left as soon as possible.
In 1935 Durrell, his wife Nancy, his mother, and his siblings (including brother Gerald Durrell, later to be a major British wildlife conservationist and popular writer) moved to the Greek island of Corfu. In the same year his first novel, Pied Piper of Lovers, was published by Cassell; he also wrote to Henry Miller expressing intense admiration for his novel Tropic of Cancer, which sparked an enduring friendship and mutually critical relationship. The two got on well as they had similar subjects at the time, Durrell's The Black Book abounded with "four letter words... grotesques,... [and] its mood [as] equally as apocalyptic" as Tropic. His mother and other siblings returned to England in 1939 due to World War II. Lawrence remained. After the fall of Greece, Lawrence Durrell escaped via Crete to Alexandria in Egypt, where he wrote about Corfu and their life on "this brilliant little speck of an island in the Ionian" in the poetic Prospero's Cell.
In August 1937 he and Nancy had arrived at the Villa Seurat in Paris, to meet Henry Miller and AnaĂŻs Nin. Together with Alfred Perles, Nin, Miller and Durrell "began a collaboration aimed at founding their own literary movement. Their projects included 'The Booster,' a country club house organ the Villa Seurat group appropriated for their own artistic...ends."[1] Durrell, Nin, and Miller also started the Villa Seurat Series in order to publish Durrell's Black Book, Miller's Max and the White Phagocytes, and Nin's Winter of Artifice, with Jack Kahane of the Obelisk Press as publisher.
Durrell separated from his wife in 1942, and became peripatetic, living for some time in Egypt, Rhodes, Argentina, and Greece, and finally settling in the south of France at a house near Sommières. He was married four times in all.
In 1947 he went to CĂłrdoba, Argentina, where for the next eighteen months he gave lectures on cultural topics for the British Council.[2] He returned to London in the summer of 1948, around the time that Marshal Tito broke ties with Stalin's Cominform, and Durrell was posted to Belgrade.[3]
He died of a stroke at his house in Sommières.
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This site is one of the best I have ever seen, wish I had one like this.
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