...

come to me
i'll take care of you
protect you
calm, calm down
you're exhausted
come lie down
you don't have to explain
i understand

you know
that i adore you
you know
that i love you
so don't make me say it
it would burst the bubble
break the charm

jump off
your building's on fire
i'll catch you
i'll catch you
destroy all that is keeping you down
and then i'll nurse you
i'll nurse you

come to me
i'll take care of you
you don't have to explain
i understand

[Björk, DEBUT - 1993 ]

4

depois do jantar
as mulheres falam muito
os homens estão quase sempre calados
atentos
perseguem-nas com olhares ternos
os dedos movendo-se hesitantes em redor dos copos

elas falam sem cessar riem
perdem o fôlego comem bolos
voltam a rir cada vez mais forte
bebem anis sabendo que os homens as observam
silenciosos amam-nas furtivamente no escuro das casas
importando-se pouco que elas se embriaguem
devagar

as mulheres falam muito
têm o riso arguto nos lábios acesos pelo anis
sempre que os homens as desejam
noite adiante... calados


[Al Berto, n. 1948 - m. 1997,
p.212, in O Medo]

Edge

The woman is perfected.
Her dead

Body wears the smile of accomplishment,
The illusion of a Greek necessity

Flows in the scrolls of her toga,
Her bare

Feet seem to be saying:
We have come so far, it is over.

Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,
One at each little

Pitcher of milk, now empty.
She has folded

Them back into her body as petals
Of a rose close when the garden

Stiffens and odors bleed
From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.

The moon has nothing to be sad about,
Staring from her hood of bone.

She is used to this sort of thing.
Her blacks crackle and drag.


[Poema de Sylvia Plath, escrito a 5 de Fevereiro de 1963. Seis dias depois, a autora suicidou-se.]