23 de julho de 2006

he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
night, running the blade of the knife
under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
of all the letters he had received
telling him that
the way he lived and wrote about
that--
it had kept them going when
all seemed
truly
hopeless.
putting the blade on the table, he
flicked it with a finger
and it whirled
in a flashing circle
under the light.
who the hell is going to save
me? he
thought.
as the knife stopped spinning
the answer came:
you're going to have to
save yourself.
still smiling,
a: he lit a
cigarette
b: he poured
another
drink
c: gave the blade
another
spin.

Charles Bukowski, The Last Night of the Earth Poems

.

5 comentários:

Mito disse...

Um poema circular em torno dum girar contínuo no "fio da navalha", um salvar-se a si próprio que se sabe impossível. Mas é possível continuar a girar a lâmina da existência, um dia de cada vez...

Vasco disse...

visit my blog www.y-vasco.blogspot.com

Graça disse...

Obrigada Romã e Mito por partilharem o que sublinharam ou o que leram no poema.
Quanto ao Vasco, já que prefere publicitar-se em inglês - good luck and have fun!

SL disse...

Esta música...mesmo boa.
Bjs

Graça disse...

Ainda bem que gostas do velho Tom, Vera.