26 novembro 2011

The Tree of Life (2011)

 
A man's heart has heard two ways through life.
The way of nature.
And the way of grace.
You have to choose which one you'll follow.
Grace doesn't try to please itself.
It accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked...
It accepts insults and injuries.
Nature only wants to please itself.
They taught us, that no one
who loves the way of grace,
ever comes to a bad end.

I just feel like I'm...bumping into walls...
The world's gone to the dogs,
people are greedy and keep getting worse.
I try to get into their hands.

How did I lose you?
Wandered.
Forgot you.
Find me.

Lord...
Why?
Where were you?
Did you know?
Who are we to you?
Answer me.
We cry to you.
My soul.
My son.
Hear us.
Light up my life.
I search for you.
My home.
My child.
You spoke to me through her.
You spoke with me from the sky.
The trees.
Before I knew I loved you ...
Believed in you.
When did you first touch my heart?
...And manfully to fight under His banner
against sin, the world, and the devil...


It takes fierce will to get ahead in this world.
If you're good, people take advantage of you.

If you're looking for something to happen,
that was it. Life, lived it.

We run before the wind, we
think that it will carry us forever.
It will not.
We vanish as a cloud,
we whither as the autumn grass.
And like a tree, are rooted up.
Is there some fraud in the scheme of the universe?
Is there nothing which is deathless?
Nothing, which does not pass away?
We cannot stay where we are.
We must journey forth.
We must find that which is
greater than fortune or fate.
Nothing can bring us peace, but that.
Is the body of the wise man or
the just, exempt from any pain?
From any disquietude, from the deformity
that might blight its beauty
from the weakness, that might destroy its health.
Do you trust in God? Job too,
was close to the Lord.
Are your friends and children, your security?
There is no hiding place in all
the world where trouble may not find you.
No one knows when sorrow might
visit his house, any more than Job did.
At the very moment
everything was taken away from Job.

He knew it was the
Lord who had taken it away
Return from the passing shows of time
He saught that which is eternal.
As he alone see God's hand, who sees that he gives.
Or does not also the one see
God's hand, who sees that he takes away.
Or does he alone see God,
who sees God turn his face towards him?
Does not also he see God,
who sees God turn his back.

Wrong people go hungry.
Die.
Wrong people get loved.
The world lives by a trigger.

You want to succeed? You can't be too good.
Act like you're in trouble,
you don't want to fight, you don't want any trouble.

Be rich.
You make yourself what you are.
You have control of your own destiny.
Can't say I can't.
You see I'm having trouble.
I'm not done yet. Can't say I can't.

Love everyone.
Every leaf.
Every ray of light.


Always you wrestle inside me.
Always you will.

The only way to be happy is to love.
Unless you love,
your life will flash by.
Do good to them.
Wonder.
Hope.
Brother.
Keep us.
Guide us.

To the end of time.
Follow me.
I give him to you.
I give you my son.

12 novembro 2011

Nevermind the clouds by Duy Huyth




Há palavras que são sombras de árvores
ou um bálsamo da terra,
um pressentimento de espuma,
um incêndio do tacto,
uma reverência ao desconhecido.
Amo as palavras que são às vezes sonâmbulos cavalos,
satélites de granito,
raparigas cegas no fundo das casas,
veias de uma estrela submarina.
Como não amá-las pela brisa
se são pétalas de um clamor silencioso
ou anjos sossegados dormindo sobre a terra
ou lúcidas e ébrias, majestosas e puras,
magníficas como um dorso recamado de estrelas,
intacta revelação de invioladas luas?
Desconfio das palavras, mas às vezes são leves, musicais
aves que planam sobre uma cidade branca,
ilhas mágicas, selados vasos, cordeiros recém-nascidos,
caravanas vermelhas, armadilhas de cristal,
amoroso tremor da matéria terrestre.
Como um boi nocturno das águas eu procuro
essas guitarras plantadas nas plantas
que através de eclipses e da distância
erguem uma árvore de música ou uma pirâmide
ou as lianas vivas que me defendem dos abismos.
Como estátuas de ar as palavras levantam-se
na harmonia delirante do nómada do deserto.
Quer sejam suspiros entre os arbustos ou sonâmbulas melodias
estão sempre à altura dos seus próprios desejos.
Quer o cérebro sangre ou a terra estremeça
o seu cerimonial é inesgotável, as suas relíquias vivas.
São abelhas ou astros que buscam alimento
nos ninhos de amêndoas ou nos espelhos da lua?
Amo as palavras, acredito nos seus cristais secretos,
nos seus cavalos subterrâneos, nos seus densos diamantes.
Escrevo-as com minucioso ardor entre nascentes e sombras,
sei que são anjos de argila, antiquíssimos arqueiros
que disparam as flechas de erva sobre estrelas vivas.

 
ANTÓNIO RAMOS ROSA, in O NÃO E O SIM (Quetzal Ed., 1990)

 
[hoje precisava de palavras, das Tuas, das dele, das deles... hoje precisava de som, do calor das presenças, das lágrimas que se sentem no peito cada vez que as palavras não saem ou não existem no teu olhar. hoje precisava de mais que vento e chuva, que silvados estridentes que me ensurdecem o tacto e me desmancham a vontade. Hoje Preciso de Ti!]