I KNOW IT'S NOT SO

About Patricia Evans' poetry

"Although I have spent time with Patrícia Evans on three separate occasions, I feel I know Patrícia Evans only through her poetry. She hides nothing, she surrenders everything. It is some of the most powerful poetry I have ever read. And I have read only English translations of her poems, so those who read her in her native Portuguese will experience her even more intimately. They should prepare themselves for imagery, anger, compassion, despair, humor, insight, knowledge of her self and the deepest love for those she loves, especially dad."

Robert E. Sheridan


Mr. Sheridan had been an editor for the New York Times for 32 years. He is also a poet, and a father.


Mr. Sheridan's blog:
http://www.coffeedrome.com/


PATRÍCIA EVANS

Twitter: @TiciaEvans - Email: TiciaEvans@gmail.com

22 de ago. de 2008

MEU RÁDIO / MY RADIO


MEU RÁDIO

(© PATRÍCIA EVANS)


E de repente calou o meu rádio
Ah! Que sensação esquisita.
Ficou sem ruído o meu dia,
sem graça, sem palhaçada,
sem new wave, jazz, blues, nostalgia,
sem rock leve ou pesado,
samba, reggae ou sincopado.
.
Nem tango e nem mesmo um bolero
e, sem dois pra lá, dois pra cá
ficou uma rotina ordinária
das que se rezam que mingue,
porque não tem pagode, valsa,
não tem mais suingue.
.
Meu rádio está calado
e eu em total letargia.
Nada mais interessante
como gelasse o cio de amantes.
.
Passam lentas minhas horas.
O que será que acontece?
Eu o trouxe do conserto agora!
E é novinha a sua pilha . . .
.
Doravante, nem mais ciso, nem um riso;
um banho de água fria:
meu rádio silente por motivo impreciso.
.
Tento tudo: mexo e balanço e bato.
Abro, vasculho, chega a estar torto
de tanto eu o ter espancado.
.
Não toca uma melodia . . .
está em retiro, mudo, absorto
tal qual igreja vazia,
silêncio de quem desiste,
.
acho que meu rádio está morto.

.

MY RADIO
(© PATRÍCIA EVANS)

Suddenly, my radio has stopped!
Wow! What a weird sensation.
My day has no noise,
There is no more fun,
No more new wave, jazz, blues, nostalgia,
no more light or heavy rock,
samba, reggae or beat.
No tango, no bolero
and without the "two steps here, two steps there,"
I'm left with one ordinary routine
like those we pray for finishing
because there is no pagode, waltz, swing.
My radio is quiet
and I'm totally bored.
There is nothing interesting
as if the lovers' heat has frozen.
Time is passing slowly . . .
What is going on?
Recently it was fixed!
And its battery is new . . .
From here on, no more sound mind, no more laughs
it's a cold shower
that my radio is silent for some unknown reason.
I try everything: move it and swing it and hit it.
I open it, mess around with it
so much that it's bent.
It plays no melody . . .
it's closed up, mute, absorbed
like an empty church
with the silence of those who give up,
I think, my radio is dead.
.
.

2 comentários:

Soso Paskin disse...

Eu acho que eu me mataria se o meu radio 'morresse'!

Anônimo disse...

É que vinte anos depois de Radio Ga Ga, temos um rádio gagá.