ABRUPTO

10:49 (JPP)

PRISIONEIRO

Pega-se no livro, um entre muitos, bem sei do Conrad, vale sempre a pena (porquê a pena?). Vale. Já sei que vale. Mas será este que agora vou ler? Está ali outro, e um ensaio, e aquele título que chama por mim. Folheio, na límpida paginação dos Oxford World's Classics, na primeira página, na primeira linha, no primeiro parágrafo, depois no segundo, depois no terceiro, isto:

THE SHADOW LINE

D'autre fois, calme plat, grand miroir De mon desespoir.

BAUDELAIRE

ONLY the young have such moments. I don't mean the very young. No. The very young have, properly speaking, no moments. It is the privilege of early youth to live in advance of its days in all the beautiful continuity of hope which knows no pauses and no introspection.

One closes behind one the little gate of mere boyishness -- and enters an enchanted garden. Its very shades glow with promise. Every turn of the path has its seduction. And it isn't because it is an undiscovered country. One knows well enough that all mankind had streamed that way. It is the charm of universal experience from which one expects an uncommon or personal sensation -- a bit of one's own.

One goes on recognizing the landmarks of the predecessors, excited, amused, taking the hard luck and the good luck together -- the kicks and the halfpence, as the saying is -- the picturesque common lot that holds so many possibilities for the deserving or perhaps for the lucky. Yes. One goes on. And the time, too, goes on -- till one perceives ahead a shadow-line warning one that the region of early youth, too, must be left behind.

This is the period of life in which such moments of which I have spoken are likely to come. What moments? Why, the moments of boredom, of weariness, of dissatisfaction. Rash moments. I mean moments when the still young are inclined to commit rash actions, such as getting married suddenly or else throwing up a job for no reason.

....

Agora já não há remédio. Mais preso do que o prisioneiro do Juan del Encina lá abaixo.