2 de outubro de 2008






The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be
The scholar to whom the book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.


Wallace Stevens
.

4 comentários:

marta (doavesso) disse...

está tudo tão lindo aqui...
beijo e saudades.

Graça disse...

Obrigada, Marta. Beijo com saudades para ti também...

shatteredpieces disse...

"It's oh so quiet..
it's oh so still.."

Este pedacinho fez-me lembrar desta música. Porquê? Pois, não sei..

Dois segundos depois pensei: a verdade é tudo menos calma, paz, serenidade.

-.-

Beijinho

Graça disse...

Isto dava uma longa discussão, a questão de a verdade trazer ou não calma. Talvez inquiete tanto procurá-la como encontrá-la. Talvez nos liberte, talvez nos devolva à prisão onde sempre estivemos. (claro que me apetecia dizer ''depende'')

Também associei o poema à canção
e também não sei porquê... =)