quarta-feira, 26 de julho de 2017


“Sometimes I stand on the river bank
and feel the water take my pain,
allow my nostalgic brooding
a reprieve.
The water flows south,
constantly redrafting its story
which is my story,
rising and lowering with glimmering meanings—
here nations drown their stupid babbling,
bragging senators are mere geese droppings in the mud,
radicals and conservatives are stands of island grass,
and the water flows on,
cleansing, baptizing Muslims, Jews and Christians alike.
I yearn to move past these days of hate and racism.
That is why this Rio Grande,
these trees and sage bushes
the geese, horses, dogs and river stones
are so important to me—
with them
I go on altering my reptilian self,
reaching higher notes of being
on my trombone heart,
pulsing out into the universe, my music
according to the leaf’s music sheet,
working, with a vague indulgence toward a song
we the people.”

Chegada pela manhã à Câmara Municipal. Abro o computador e, por acaso, abro na pasta das fotografias do Novo México. Escolhi esta, das margens do Rio Grande. Só recordo a zona de estacionamento, o esplendor da paisagem e o pintas que me questionou "you've a very funny accent, man! where are you from?...". Milagre, sabia onde fica Portugal.

Texto de Jimmy Santiago Baca (n. 1952), um poeta de Santa Fé.

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