The Book People: O Som do Sôpro, António Barahona

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ORIENTAÇÃO

Escrevi milhares de versos
para esquecer. Amei algumas mulheres
para lembrar. Agora já posso dizer
o som em carne viva.

A cidade assemelha-se a um acampamento
abandonado no deserto. Os nómadas
partiram nos seus camelos, com provisão
de tâmaras e água.
Há restos de detritos, sinais de trânsito,
folhas arrancadas a revistas pornográficas,
ao sabor do vento, por entre pétalas sêcas.

Há resíduos de sítios onde estive contigo,
fragmentos de versos de vidro, tudo
muito nítido, anotado, vincado a oiro.



António Barahona in O Som do Sôpro (Poesia Incompleta, 2011)

Bücherverbrennung

Era uma vez

Era uma vez um poeta, escrivão obscuro, que trabalhava muscularmente o poema. Lavrava a página com o seu arado lírico até ao incêndio do horizonte. A obra cresceu. Teve uma belíssima colheita poética. Morreu de fome.

The Book People: Fahrenheit 451, François Truffaut (UK, 1966)

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1YsPKjOirs

The Book People: Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury

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[...]

- You follow the river upstream 'til you come to the old steam railway line. Then you go on and you go on until you get to where the book people live.

           

- The good people?

- No, book. The book people. You've not heard of them?

- No.

- People who vanished. Some were arrested and managed to escape. Others were released. Some didn't wait to be arrested. They just hid themselves away. Up in the farm country; the woods and the hills. They live there in little groups. The law can't touch them. They live quite peaceably and do nothing that's forbidden. Though, if they came into the city, they might not last long.

- But how can you call them book people... If they don't do anything against the law?

- They are books. Each one, men and women. Everyone, commits a book they've chosen to memory, and they become the books. Of course, every now and then, someone gets stopped, arrested. Which is why they live so cautiously. Because the secret they carry is the most precious secret in the world. With them, all human knowledge would pass away.

[...]

Ray Bradbury in Fahrenheit 451