Fall

Now, I presume you are not the least curious to read this poem. 'Tis about that same person, from long ago, and was written in 2004. Long time ago, indeed. Still, I sometimes remember some of its verses; for truly it is one of my most honest expressions of the feelings I did not know how to deal with. Never has this work seen the light of day; and perchance is should be left in the shades forever, lest it bring sadness to someone, for sadness was never its objective. In any case, here it is. One of the greatest expressions of my despair and grief of old...

Fall - 11 november 2004

I. Dice

A critical failure or a success?

How can we know, without the dice?

A shattered sword, a fatal blast,

The fire breaking throught the ice...

This life - 'tis just like RPG;

We're players, led by a game master.

His evil plans we cannot see,

We only try to fight disaster.

Yes, we can win; his plans are strange.

He tests us, tries to make us fail;

He oft' succeeds; yet, even failing

Perchance we are success attaining.

Stand still, don't act - your fate is sealed,

A fearful soldier will die.

Remember - games have rules we don't feel,

And act, and fight, try to survive...

II. Mortal scum

A mortal scum that walks on Earth,

A fragile mind, a worthless soul,

A man of deeds and no importance,

A useful nothing - useful slave.

Slave to the world, slave to his love,

Immortal love, the curse eternal.

A fatal blast comes from above,

Destroys the mind and soul of Mortal.

And yet... Destruction often means rebirth,

Rebirth and learning from experience...

III. Abandoned

I miss her, DAMN!... yet from now forth

My faith is far beyond deliverance...

I cannot trust, I  can't believe -

And yet I want to... dice forsaken...

who threw them? Oh, be blessed thee...

For for some turns there's been no failures...

I cannot win this fight alone!

Where's the support that's been expected?!!

After the final strike - alone;

A try to call for help - defeated...

The Sword Eternal - art thou broken?

Hast thou abandoned me? Oh, yeah...

The balrog's wings, the cries of orcs...

The choirs were vast, but now they're mute...

A ray of faith still shines inside me;

"There is no spoon", as Neo said.

There must have been a reason, likely;

Or maybe blindness... other's death...

Perchance indifference, hypocrisy -

But nay, not she... or maybe aye...

Nay, NAY! I won't believe it, mortal!

I'm, stronger... weaker... weaker... ...

I cannot win without support!!!

The armors fails, the spear is broken.

A mortal scum that walks on Earth.

Misleading visions and illusions...

Abandoned... passiveness, betrayal.

Betrayal mustn't active be.

I trusted you!!! Believed!!! gaddammit...

Oh, are you blind or cannot see...?

I'm nothing! NOTHING!... it says everything...

Importance zero, nothing else...

A useful and convenient mortal -

And that is all. Farewell? - we'll see...

Cyberpunk

Algo que eu escrevi em 2004. Este é o único poema que escrevi nas duas línguas, português e inglês; a versão em inglês foi a primeira; ela saiu mais naturalmente, e eu a considero muito melhor do que a em português... As duas versões estão abaixo.
Something I wrote in 2004; 'tis the only poem I wrote in both English and Portuguese, and both versions are presented below. The English version is the original, and is also more of my liking.

Cyberpunk setembro de 2004


É cyberpunk o nosso mundo,

A morte ronda perto...

A mentira jaz tão fundo,

E a beleza é desfeita

A sorte? Um rolar de dado.

A confiança? Já se foi...

'Sperança tenha, sob o fardo

De esperar pelo pior...

Sozinhos na sociedade;

Palavras falsas; honra vã

Hipócrita realidade -

Assim o é, assim será...

Vitória? Algo impossível;

A morte? uma solução...

Fugir? Não, não - inverossímel

Fingir? Quem sabe... Por que não?

O cyberpunk já nos venceu.

Se acostume'ou vai lutando;

Arena, meta-Coliseu -

Atire. Reze. 

    Para o dado.

Cyberpunk september 2004


It's a universe of cyberpunk,
Each day a chance to die
Who needs the techs to lead that life?
We know our life's a lie


Trust no one, least of all yourself
And maybe you'll survive
Expect the worst and hope for best,
Trust luck and throw the dice...


Alone we are, inside society,
A word means nothing, honor's gone
Hipocrisy is our reality
In life and death, we're all alone


We cannot win, yet we can die;
Alone or not, no place to run
A gun to fight and breath to sigh-
Or maybe - maybe - neither one...


To learn the hard way is the way;
To learn it easy - no one can
And cyberpunk is here to stay
Accept or fight - it is our fate

Acima da Águas de Cuiviénen

Este é o primeiro de uma série de poemas tolkienianos... E provavelmente o mais bonito. Curiosamente, o escrevi depois da minha primeira briga séria de namoro; eu estava no primeiro colegial na época, e tinha relido o Silmarillion fazia pouco tempo. Para quem não sabe ou não lembra, Cuiviénen é o lago onde os elfos acordaram pela primeira vez, e para o qual não é mais possível voltar, pois a geografia de Arda foi alterada.


Acima de Águas de Cuiviénen - 8 de outubro de 2003

Andando sozinho na escuridão,

Debaixo do manto da noite eterna;

Estrelas no alto, e pedras no chão

Em volta das águas de Cuiviénen.

O nome de Varda ali não conhecem;

“Gilthoniel, Elbereth!” não se ouve por lá.

Pois nunca A Que Acendeu As Estrelas

Em Cuiviénen pousou o olhar.

Adoram-na, mesmo sem ter conhecido

O seu nome, o seu lugar;

Pois ao despertar e olhar para cima

Viram estrelas brilhando no ar…

Brilhando tão longe… Um brilho intenso…

Por entre’as folhagens, a luz quer passar…

É como se tudo’estivesse imerso

Na luz, mesmo fraca, um tanto astral…

Em Cuiviénen, nas águas calmas,

Os fogos de Varda de novo estão;

E tanto nas águas quanto no alto

Estão muito longe p’ra os alcançar…

“O que será isso?”- os Quendi pensaram;

Respostas não tinham a essa quastão.

“Olhai!”- foi o que eles então exclamaram,

E’o que eles viram não esquercerão…

---

Milênios passaram-se; muito sofreram

Os Eldar, os Avari, do Grande Mal;

E para as águas de Cuiviénen

Não mais é possível, um dia, voltar…

Mas – seja em Aman, Nargothrond, Valfenda –

Enfim, onde’um dia um Quendi passar,-

Jamais poderão esquecer as estrelas

De Cuiviénen, ao despertar…

Unspoken farewells in the silence of dawn...

I believe this to be the poem I took the longest to write, for no less than seven months did it take before being completed. The first two strophes were quick in the making, taking no longer than thirty minutes, and they were already in existence by April of last year. Then a first version of the second part of the poem did I write, yet it was not to my liking. So, during the next months, I thought about the second part of this poem; and only by the end of August of last year was it completed. Two verses at a time did I create, and some of them refer to people or events of great importance in my life.


I have seen battles fought under the stars
Rain falling down from the thickening clouds
Lighting in darkness and fire on the trees
Crimson-red thunder
Destroyer of dreams


Battles were lost, like so many before
Hopes went away, to return nevermore
Under the water the rivers now die
Under the mountains the dwarven lords lie


Under the shadow the sun fades away
Cold, freezing darkness in deafening gray
Voices of friends who have left long ago
Unspoken farewells in the silence of dawn


On roads with no end, walking down through the mist
No signs and no crossroads, just trails paved with weeds
You're nearly blind, and the choice's but your won...
Unspoken farewells in the silence of dawn.

If once you lost - forevermore?

Aye, truly the best order is the random one. This is somehow about the same person as in the Sword Eternal. It's the last of the cycle; someday the other two will be uploaded as well. The conflicts of a mind lost between hope and despair, in a neverending neverlosing neverwinning battle.

17 june 2006

...And so you see it is not over
What once you thought forever gone
And there's no second chance, but often
The first one hasn't quite run out...
And then you know there's light in darkness
And then you see another way
And just keep fighting - once, forever
Held by th'eternal dragonflame
And there's no second chance, it's clear
As clear as lightning under clouds
But still - who cares? And does it matter
If once you lost - forevermore?
There might be other way, or maybe
It is all wasted - then just rest.
Lay on the ground, the grass - whatever
And close your eyes, and then... forget.
And rise again - or maybe not - who cares?
Just rise and fight - or lie and sleep
And throw the shards into the greatest army,
And raise thy shield, and scream - "Just kiss my ass!!!..."
And go until the end, die calmly...
Fulfill thy mission, or do of all to have it done -
Or rest; and it is just as noble
As having never lost and never having to give up...

Fandango sobre o Fandango

Este é um poema que escrevi na Ilha do Cardoso, depois de improvisar no fandango caiçara, e ouvir os relatos de um tocador. O fandango em questão é o da Ilha, tocado em viola, cavaquinho e rabeca (um violino artesanal). E, bem, eu tentei escrever algo que pudesse ser cantando neste ritmo; não sei se tive sucesso nisso.


Fandango sobre o Fandango 19 de fevereiro de 2011


Eu lembro como em outros tempos
Aqui na Ilha do Cardoso
Eram muito mais unidos
Os caiçaras pescadores


Toda gente se reunia,
Iam juntos a roçar
Percorriam toda a Ilha,
Do Perequê ao Maruja


Celebravam no Fandango,
A noite inteira a tocar
No cavaco e na viola
E a rabeca pra enfeitar


Eu tocava o fandango
E o fandango me tocava
A história do caiçara
No fandango eu contava


Sobre a pesca perigosa
Do pescador artesanal
Sobre como é difícil
Conseguir seu ganha-pão


Mas o dinheiro interveio
E o fandando foi mudando
Ele foi ficando pobre
E perdendo sua alma


E os mestres tocadores
Já não querem mais tocar
Não se ouvem mais suas vozes
No Perequê e no Marujá.

The Sword Eternal

This poem is about one of great importance to me at a time; both for best and for worst. If I am not mistaken, I wrote four poems about her. None of them had seen any light, till this day.


The Sword Eternal - 19 august 2004



Out in the field; the setting sun...
But for how long can it be setting?
The burning bridge; the gates are down;
Into the darkness - hordes of orcs...


The so-called allies - "No! Leave be!"
A cry for help I threw in vain.
I helped them; no, I couldn't see
The suffering, th'eternal pain...


An oath be broken by my hand!
Eternal darkness - hold, await!
I faced, I saw the gates of Hell;
And soon it shall come to an end!


The monsters creeping; I'm alone;
My spear was broken by my ally.
He ran away - face not the storm!
I have no strength to face the monsters.


-You're not an elf! You're but an orc!
An orchish scum, thy name is SNAGA!!!...
The voice from Barad-Dûr, it comes!
It comes... the orcs... the trolls.. the balrogs...


A cut, so deep, inside my flesh...
A scream into my broken ear...
The pain iside... a blinding flash...
My will, my faith is broken... FEAR!!!


- You're stronger than these hounds of hell!
Fight on, my friend! Defeat the demons!
I raise my head... Oh Goddess, help!
A cry for help into the heavens?!


"Rise now! And fight! You shall survive!
We shall rebuild the bridge, united!"
A sword... an armor shining bright...
Behind me - elven scouts... and nothing!


The darkness overwhelmed me;
An yet, an elven sword in my hands.
I'm spinning round; tear down their flesh!
I'm but an orc, my name is SNAGA!!!


I look behind... the elf... is here...
But still, too far away from me...
I'm broken, my resistance - passive...
The meal of demons shall I be?


The sun is setting down... how long!
The sunset - oh, it's neverending!
Betrayed by many; faith's not strong...
Like a small tree... in wind... is bending...


But suddenly - behold! - the elf
Is by my side... the sword eternal...
"Hello my friend!"- I need some help...
"And here am I!"- the sword eternal...


Retreat you, cursed souls from Hell!
And leave him be! The sword eternal!
A cut into the balrog's skin...
Retreating hordes of orcs and goblins...


The elven warrior - "So... Hold on!
"We shall rebuild the bridge, my brother!"
You are no orchish scum; you're strong.
Thou art an elf. Thy name is Taurwen.