Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her gloom
and conquered her scruples and gloom;
And we passed to the end of the vista,
But we stopped by the door of a tomb
by the door of a legended tomb;
And I said - "What is written, sweet sister,
On the door o this legended tomb?"
She replied: "Ulalume - Ulalume! -
'tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!"

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
As the leaves that were crispèd and sere
As the leaves that were withering and sere;
And I cried: "It was surely October
Onthis very night of last year
That I journeyed - I journeyed down here! -
That I brought a dread burden down here
On this night of all nights in the year,
Ah, what demon has tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber
This misty mid region of Weir
Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber,
This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir."



------E.A.P.

Caros camaradas futuros,

Revendo a merda fóssil de agora, perscrutando estes dias escuros, talvez pergunteis por mim:

Ao comitê central
do futuro ofuscante
sobre a malta dos vates
velhacos e falsários,
apresento em lugar
do registro partidário
todos os cem tomos
dos meus livros militantes.

Entre escritor e leitor posta-se o intermediário, e o gosto do intermediário é bastante intermédio. Medíocre mesnada de medianeiros médios. Prefiro morrer de vodca do que de tédio.


---
Maiakóvski (tradução irmãos Campos e B. Schnaiderman, montagem minha)

I'd rob a grave, I'd steal two-bits off a dead man's eyes if I thought it would contribute to the day's enjoyment - but unto-thyself-type honest. Be anything but a coward, a pretender, an emotional crook, a whore: I'd rather have cancer than a dishonest heart. Which isn't being pious. Just pratical. Cancer may cool you, but the other's sure to. Oh, screw it, cookie - hand me my guitar and I'll sing you a fado in the most perfect Portuguese.

Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany´s

That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if they're not much to look at, or even if they're sort of stupid, you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls. Jesus Christ. They can drive you crazy. They really can.

Salinger, The Catcher In The Rye

Iba a decir que ahí se manifestaban los peligros de la creación, la dificuldad de llevar diversas conciencias, equilibradamente, simultámeamente. Pero, ¿a qué vale? Estos consuelos son lánguidos. Todo se ha perdido: la vida con la mujer, la soledad pasada. Sin refugio perduro en este monólogo que, desde ahora, es injustificacle.

Adolfo Bioy Casares, La Invensión de Morel