FRIO

O quadro e o poema têm pouco a ver um com o outro. Ligam-nos o frio, o crepúsculo e a sensação de fade-out. Nestes dias de vários frios são, assim me parece, uma citação apropriada. Henri Le Sidaner (1862-1939) e Mark Strand (1934-2014) fazem a primeira subida pela Avenida da Salúquia. Le jardin blanc au crépuscule, de 1912, e I had been a polar explorer, de 2006, são duas das baias do meu dia. A preparação do filme Chegar a casa será a outra.

I had been a polar explorer in my youth
and spent countless days and nights freezing 
in one blank place and then another. Eventually,
I quit my travels and stayed at home,
and there grew within me a sudden excess of desire,
as if a brilliant stream of light of the sort one sees 
within a diamond were passing through me.
I filled page after page with visions of what I had witnessed—
groaning seas of pack ice, giant glaciers, and the windswept white 
of icebergs. Then, with nothing more to say, I stopped 
and turned my sights on what was near. Almost at once, 
a man wearing a dark coat and broad-brimmed hat 
appeared under the trees in front of my house.
The way he stared straight ahead and stood, 
not shifting his weight, letting his arms hang down
at his side, made me think that I knew him. 
But when I raised my hand to say hello, 
he took a step back, turned away, and started to fade
as longing fades until nothing is left of it.