ABRUPTO

14.2.04


SCRITTI VENETI 6


Amanhã, quando chegar e olhar para a água da laguna sereníssima, lembrar-me-ei. Já será tarde para escrever, já não será “early morning”, mas se fosse seria assim

In winter you wake up in this city, especially on Sundays, to the chiming of its innumerable bells, as though behind your gauze curtains a gigantic china teaset were vibrating on a silver tray in the pearl-gray sky. You fling the window open and the room is instantly flooded with this outer, pearl-laden haze, which is part damp oxygen, part coffee and prayers. No matter what sort of pills, and how many, you've got to swallow this morning, you feel it's not over for you yet. No matter, by the same token, how autonomous you are, how much you've been betrayed, how thorough and dispiriting is your self-knowledge, you assume there is still hope for you, or at least a future.

(Brodsky, Watermark)

(Marcas de água, watermark, filigranas, coisas que os filatelistas conhecem. Impressas quase no limite da invisibilidade e no entanto verdadeiras marcas de posse, garantias de genuinidade, riscos subtis de pertença. Já quase não se usam.)

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© José Pacheco Pereira
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