Seguindo o seu curso, ziguezagueando como os
meus pensamentos, o rio passa em minha vida eleva consigo o velho e deixa comigo o novo, o
amanhã.
O amanhã chega em minha vida, e encontra o
rio que sou, com águas turbulentas, ameaçadoras,
e amedrontado, espreita à distância e passa
correndo, vai.
O amanhã vai, ele parte, desata às corredeiras
que correm paralelas ao rio que é a minha vida e
zomba do amanhã que, desavisado, chegará sem
saber da fúria que o espera.
O rio transborda e arrasta consigo a noite que
dorme silenciosa e sem um suspiro se deixa
levar para as incertezas do amanhã.
A minha vida que imita os rios que atravessa
em sua jornada!
A minha vida transborda e me arrasta rua
abaixo com violência tal que os viventes que
assistem a sena, com medo da sua fúria,
mantém-se à distância, permitem a vida me
levar.
Assustada, a inércia suplica para que me
socorram mas vivente algum se atreve a
enfrentar, a se atirar na enxurrada que é a
minha vida para me ajudar.
A vida em seu curso atravessa, rasga a minha
alma que, amedrontada, omite-se, cala.
Com os olhos espantados a vida assiste as
suas águas turvas engolirem o que penso ser a
minha vida e não me avisa que a vida é um
rio, o rio que sou.
A noite chega às margem da minha vida que
corre em seu leito e faz deitar o capinzal que
se curva sobre suas águas para engolir os
sapos, os grilos que me atormentam.
O vento sopra, balança os galhos a sua volta
só para incomodar o sono dos pássaros.
Assim é a vida ao meu redor, a minha vida que
imita os rios, abraça os peixes que nadam
serenos enquanto os jacarés, fingindo
indiferença, anseiam por comê-los.
Como a minha vida, os rios transbordam,
é o rio, a minha vida que segue seu curso,
sou eu.
Lido da Silva - Brasília, fevereiro de 2012
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The river
Following its course, zigzagging like
my thoughts, the river flows through my life and
carries the old away, leaving me with the new—
tomorrow.
Tomorrow arrives in my life and finds the
river that I am, with turbulent, threatening waters,
and, frightened, it peeks from a distance and rushes
by, gone.
Tomorrow goes, it departs, plunging into the rapids
that run parallel to the river that is my life and
mocks the tomorrow that, unsuspecting, will arrive without
knowing of the fury that awaits it.
The river overflows and sweeps away the night that
sleeps silently and, without a sigh, lets itself
be carried away into the uncertainties of tomorrow.
My life, which mimics the rivers it crosses
on its journey!
My life overflows and drags me down the street
with such violence that those who
witness the scene, afraid of its fury,
keep their distance, allowing life to
carry me away.
Frightened, inertia begs for someone to
rescue me, but no living soul dares to
confront it, to throw themselves into the torrent that is
my life to help me.
Life, in its course, cuts through and tears apart my
soul, which, frightened, withdraws and falls silent.
With wide-eyed astonishment, life watches as
its murky waters swallow what I think is
my life, and does not warn me that life is a
river—the river that I am.
Night falls upon the banks of my life, which
flows in its bed, and lays low the grass that
bends over its waters to swallow the
frogs and crickets that torment me.
The wind blows, swaying the branches around it
just to disturb the birds’ sleep.
Such is life around me, my life that
mimics the rivers, embraces the fish that swim
serene while the alligators, feigning
indifference, long to devour them.
Like my life, the rivers overflow;
it is the river, my life that follows its course—
it is me.
Siga o meu blog: ocantardosventos.blogspot.com
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*
Following its course, zigzagging like
my thoughts, the river flows through my life and
carries the old away, leaving me with the new—
tomorrow.
Tomorrow arrives in my life and finds the
river that I am, with turbulent, threatening waters,
and, frightened, it peeks from a distance and rushes
by, gone.
Tomorrow goes, it departs, plunging into the rapids
that run parallel to the river that is my life and
mocks the tomorrow that, unsuspecting, will arrive without
knowing of the fury that awaits it.
The river overflows and sweeps away the night that
sleeps silently and, without a sigh, lets itself
be carried away into the uncertainties of tomorrow.
My life, which mimics the rivers it crosses
on its journey!
My life overflows and drags me down the street
with such violence that those who
witness the scene, afraid of its fury,
keep their distance, allowing life to
carry me away.
Frightened, inertia begs for someone to
rescue me, but no living soul dares to
confront it, to throw themselves into the torrent that is
my life to help me.
Life, in its course, cuts through and tears apart my
soul, which, frightened, withdraws and falls silent.
With wide-eyed astonishment, life watches as
its murky waters swallow what I think is
my life, and does not warn me that life is a
river—the river that I am.
Night falls upon the banks of my life, which
flows in its bed, and lays low the grass that
bends over its waters to swallow the
frogs and crickets that torment me.
The wind blows, swaying the branches around it
just to disturb the birds’ sleep.
Such is life around me, my life that
mimics the rivers, embraces the fish that swim
serene while the alligators, feigning
indifference, long to devour them.
Like my life, the rivers overflow;
it is the river, my life that follows its course—
it is me.
*
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