Poetry And Religion
our daylight and dreaming mind, our
emotions, instinct, breath and native gesture
into the only whole thinking: poetry.
Nothing's said till it's dreamed out in words
and nothing's true that figures in words only.
A poem, compared with an arrayed religion,
may be like a soldier's one short marriage night
to die and live by. But that is a small religion.
Full religion is the large poem in loving repetition;
like any poem, it must be inexhaustible and complete
with turns where we ask Now why did the poet do that?
You can't pray a lie, said Huckleberry Finn;
you can't poe one either. It is the same mirror:
mobile, glancing, we call it poetry,
fixed centrally, we call it a religion,
and God is the poetry caught in any religion,
caught, not imprisoned. Caught as in a mirror
that he attracted, being in the world as poetry
is in the poem, a law against its closure.
There'll always be religion around while there is poetry
or a lack of it. Both are given, and intermittent,
as the action of those birds - crested pigeon, rosella parrot -
who fly with wings shut, then beating, and again shut.
.
Les Murray
.
26 de novembro de 2009
Adolphe Etienne Piot
a day or two
Embarrassed—not afraid—
Encounter in my garden
An unexpected Maid.
She beckons, and the woods start—
She nods, and all begin—
Surely, such a country
I was never in!
.
Emily Dickinson
.
25 de novembro de 2009
Tua mão
vais dormir em paz
não consigo dormir, por isso
o peso leve da mão
aos poucos passa a ser de chumbo
a noite é longa
permaneces no mesmo lugar
essa mão só pode ser afeto
talvez tenha outro significado secreto
Não ouso afastá-la
nem acordar-te de repente
quando me acostumo e me afeiçoo a ela
em sonho tu a recolhes, súbito
e ignora tudo
.
Han Dong, trad. Régis Bonvicino e Yao Feng
.
24 de novembro de 2009
Henry Tanworth Wells
Yes, the Fish Music
through my eyes, through my fingers,
and I remember how the trout
used to hide from the dinosaurs
when they came to drink at the river.
The trout hid in subways, castles,
and automobiles. They waited patiently for the dinosaurs to go away.
.
Richard Brautigan
.
23 de novembro de 2009
Albert Lynch
Vento de Outono
Vento de Outono, vento solitário,
Vento de noite,
Força obscura que se desprende
Do infinito e volta ao infinito,
Rodopia dentro de mim, conjura
Contra meu coração tua força,
Arranca de uma vez a casca
Do fruto que não madura.
.
Joan Vinyoli, trad. João Cabral de Mello Neto
.
22 de novembro de 2009
Me, change! Me, alter!
Then I will, when on the Everlasting Hill
A Smaller Purple grows—
At sunset, or a lesser glow
Flickers upon Cordillera—
At Day's superior close!
.
Emily Dickinson
.
Albert Lynch
21 de novembro de 2009
Sobre o Gesto
Além do gesto, senhora, a importância
decide a vida. Estrangula o choro,
refaz o sentido.
Senhora, o choro retrai
a angústia em restante medo.
Fosse o sono a dedilhar
a corda imensurável da música
de fundo, senhora. O choro
é o carrilhão desabalado do relógio
ao findar da corda.
.
Pedro Du Bois
.