...que não escrevo aqui no blog. Preguiça, esquecimento, falta de assunto, despreocupação... um pouco de todos.
Estou agora em férias algarvias, uma quinzena (que já está, finalmente, a acabar), e nada tenho feito senão a óbvia praia, computador e encontros com familiares e amigos dos meus papás.
Num dos dias , há quase uma semana, mais precisamente dia 5 de Agosto, uma Quarta-Feira, estava a sentir-me mal, por razões que não vou expor, que se arrastam por cima de vários assuntos. E nessa tristeza surgiu a inspiração (que surge muitas vezes para expelir esses maus sentimentos) e quebrei um recorde de quatro poemas escritos consecutivamente. Vou aqui por um poema desses e mais um que escrevi dia 23 de Julho, ambos de vertente musical.
Cá vai o mais antigo, Tears Of A Musician.
I planted a seed on a string
And a sound bloomed in cries,
Flew with the sound of six wings
And slowly burns away and dies.
It streamed across the string,
It florished into a forest
And the sounds sadly sing,
Every flower joining the rest.
It was a scream on a string
Shouting out loud a fear
Heard by no ruler, no king,
Only healed by my dear.
It was anger, it was passion,
It was hate and it was love,
It was the darkest depression
And a blissful experience.
It was anger, it was passion,
It was hate and it was love,
It was the darkest depression,
The most blissful experience.
I planted a seed on a string,
It florished into a forest,
It was the darkest depression
And a blissful experience.
It was anger, it was passion,
It was hate and it was love,
It was the darkest depression,
The most blissful experience.
And a sound bloomed in cries,
Flew with the sound of six wings
And slowly burns away and dies.
It streamed across the string,
It florished into a forest
And the sounds sadly sing,
Every flower joining the rest.
It was a scream on a string
Shouting out loud a fear
Heard by no ruler, no king,
Only healed by my dear.
It was anger, it was passion,
It was hate and it was love,
It was the darkest depression
And a blissful experience.
It was anger, it was passion,
It was hate and it was love,
It was the darkest depression,
The most blissful experience.
I planted a seed on a string,
It florished into a forest,
It was the darkest depression
And a blissful experience.
It was anger, it was passion,
It was hate and it was love,
It was the darkest depression,
The most blissful experience.
Escrevi-o quando brincava com a minha guitarra clássica (que não sei tocar - daí o brincar), passando os dedos pelas cordas e provocando sons poderosos com as mais grossas. Acho que o poema é sobre... fazer música.
Old And Used
Staring at my life,
Staring with a knife.
Desire.
Staring at my hands,
Blood is on my hands.
Guilt.
Staring at you eyes,
Horror’s on your eyes.
Scream.
And scream, scream,
Scream, scream,
No one will recall.
Scream.
Staring at my soul,
Nothing’s in my soul.
Unrectified.
There’s music in my head,
I want it here instead.
There’s a voice in my heart,
I want you here instead.
Staring at my life,
Staring with a knife.
Desire.
Staring at my hands,
Blood is on my hands.
Guilt.
Staring at you eyes,
Horror’s on your eyes.
Scream.
And scream, scream,
Scream, scream,
No one will recall.
Scream.
Staring at my soul,
Nothing’s in my soul.
Unrectified.
There’s music in my head,
I want it here instead.
There’s a voice in my heart,
I want you here instead.
E pronto, agora quem conhece Muse bem, vai acusar-me de plágio. Versos como "No one will recall" e "I want it here instead.", respectivamente de Stockholm Syndrome (do álbum Absolution) e Yes Please (presente na Hullabaloo Soundtrack), e a palavra "Unrectified" conjugada com o verso precedente lembra Sing For Absolution (também do álbum Absolution), em que os versos finais são "I won't remain unrectified / And our souls won't be empty".
Pesada inspiração lírica dos Muse, mas não uma tentativa de plágio, pois nesse poema a mensagem transmitida é diferente e pessoal.
