It's never quite right, he said, the way people look,
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.
don't I know it? I
answered.
I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night
nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.
I walked down the stairway and
into it.
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.
don't I know it? I
answered.
I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night
nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.
I walked down the stairway and
into it.
Charles Bukowski | "Cut while shaving".
.
.
1 comentario:
ME CORTEI FAZENDO A BARBA
Nunca é certo o bastante, disse ele, o jeito de olhar das pessoas,
o jeito das musícas tocarem, o jeito
que as palavras são escritas
Nunca é certo o suficiente, ele disse, as coisas que que nos são ensinadas, os amores que perseguimos, todas as mortes que morremos, as vidas que vivemos,
Nunca estão de todo certas,
Dificilmente estão certas,
Nossas vidas,
uma depois da outra,
empilhadas ali como histórias,
São o desperdício da espécie,
Esmagamento da luz e do caminho,
Não é realmente certo,
Não é certo de jeito nenhum,
ele disse.
E eu não sei,
Respondi.
Fiquei longe do espelho.
Era de manhã, era à tarde, veio a noite
Nada mudou
Ficou trancado no lugar.
Algo brilhou, algo se quebrou, algo
restou.
Desci a escada e
Entrei ali.
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