quarta-feira, março 02, 2011

The Carribbíad

ou: um fim.
(como último post desse blog,
um poema incompleto)

The Beginning & The Hanging

Sing me, O muse, of the wretched far and wide!
Of the buccaneers, the scurvy-dogs and the devil's men & pride
Those men of Sea, with bone in flag,
That go where other men won't dare
To set a sail, or cast a net
Horrid tales yet untold. The brimming sea do behold!
O, lavish muse!

Up in the gallows the wind now blows
The King Of Them All, ready to go.
A thousand people, maybe more
Watched the show with a horrid roar.

The mariners trembled, excited at last
The King Of Them All, captured and cast!
Everyone wept, everyone rejoiced.
Up in the gallows they heard the voice:

"My eyes you've plucked in darkest prisons
So I couldn´t tell of the feral treasons
That I saw in years of sailing 'round
Through seas of stories and lands unfound...
You've plucked my eyes, that saw so much,
So I wouldn't talk of politics and such
But the mystery of Aurora, the green-misted jungle
The seven isles of pleasure, the emerald bundle
This is unecessary to be seen
Only with the eyes of dream
You could not pluck or tear or end
Like the ones that, with this body, you bend:
These are not the ones to be condemned for!
Not the ones for fowl to feed upon;
May these be cartographic globes
To lead you away from the monstruous fume.
I saw the dark, the giant mouth:
It knows my name. By these I die.
Not the needful strap of conspiracy
or revolution, but the transparency
of water drops. The last sight I wish it to be!
The blue horizon, the sea, the sea, the sea"

The rope went straight, the ground him left.
The King of Plunder, the King of Theft
Now danced aloft the Jig of Death.
The crows alone, with mirth, dared laugh.

After that, they heard no sound
In just a moment all was bound.
The King Of Them All, hung in the gallows!
And his treasure of awe, hid in the shallows...

John Briggs

While sweeping the deck,
Comes the friendly sailor Jack.
Just to talk to our John
Just to ask him where he's from.

But John had no tale to tell.
For him the ship was bound to Hell
A Hellish crew, a Devilish Captain.
He had nothing to state for them.

But the good soul insisted some more
"Come on boy, tell us of yore.
Of your mother, of your sister
Tell us something, kind mister".

"My story, so?" He said. "My story?
I want no power, no dream of glory!
I am not on this boat for destiny
Of seeking treasure, but for a mutiny!"

The sailor looked 'round, no one heard
thank-you-Heavens the accursed word!
"How can you shout it, here out loud?"
But John couldn't care to whose ears 'twas bound.


The darkness bore many a- fears.
He dreamt of knives and sharping spears.
Of bloody flows, of fights, of rows.
He woke up to his own sweat stench.

'Tis morning? he called; the answer
"Shut up!". O sailor, could not
by Heavens think of something nicer
to say? Be kind to the boy?

Who told him to run? Escape
to a boat in high sea? Dream
of childhood days, I state.
Couldn't survive aboard. So grim
would become his soul, a waste.
In the shores he left them, happy days.
As her, the bonny ship, he says,
- more of a coffin to be in the truth -
Carried him away from the land of youth.


When demuring plump-work's done
John chances to see the setting sun
Awake he is, conscious then
Before him, a blissful land.

Damp Souls

So, under the cable forest
- Twisted ropes that in'twine -
Lay souls who had no rest
Their bodies broken by these lines

Their canopy of bonds
Helps the pain to be remembered
The sullen marks are strong
Cut their hands right in the center

Silent days by silent rain
Tomorrow, the same will be
And yesterday is here again.

There's no way to be dry
All day long there's the rain
No other ship passes by
And hope is simply vain

Old sailors, you can see them
Broken bodies, drowsy minds
It was no storm that did them
But a sequence of long nights

Leaping years by the foam.
By day, the thrushing wood
By night, the night unknown.

The Storm

Do you think you know the storm?
The rage, the hate, the fathom
It is the Abyss opening
No more words, no more words...

It swayed and swayed for hours
they saw inside the ocean's bowels.
Never stoping, always moving.
The restless surge only growling.

And when it went, it was all still
In darkest morning, became as hills
What once were mountains in the sea.
The storm is gone, now what will be?

The raft then came towards a shore
A beach, some trees, nothing more
It was desolate, but it would suffice
For just one night he would have some peace.


Broken bones, lurking foams
A ship was stranded in the shore.
The water sprayed around the wood
And Captain Wrath strode down the path...

The Seven Deadly Kings


He is back! He is back.
(He is back...)
He is clutching me by the hair.
He is sprawling me on the sand.
He is saying to me:
"Now, Johnny Briggs, I am glad
you survived a storm and stayed at hand.
For I shall need you in an important task".
He told me this and then he asked:
"Would you help me? Can you do it?"
I said "What do you mean?"
"Why! Take revenge on that clumsy fiend!
The men who marooned us and crashed the boat
That still dares through these oceans float.
But we are coming, yes we are!
And you shall swear it by your scar!
That you will help me get revenge."


None could stop a pirate so fierce!
his demon-laughter, his sword that pierced
Across the blood, that he spilled like grog,
he massacrated the foolish rogue.


The King of Gluttony, like a pig,
His great round belly was so big.
Searching for food he sailed his boat,
Something to fill his nasty throat.

Fruits and meat and sauce are good
Beer and grog and fish so crude.
Deers and ducks and fillings fine
Dogs and beans and nice red wine!


Cold politeness,
Courtly madness.
His face was just a façade.
All could see
that it was for me
The last day to walk this Earth
(or ship).
Took a sip
Ate the food with no hope
Of getting away
Or seeing the day
That would dawn after Mog had me killed.

The moon settled over the sea.
And nested over a barren landscape.
Barren because it had no tree
But excelled in hills that were waves.

The deathly banquet was finishing
Inside the brown skeleton's belly.
In the cave a lone candle was shining.
The only light in the darkness of Hell.

"Are you done, little dumpling, are you finished?"
His smile was half hidden by gloom.
"What about dessert? What do you covet?"
And me, all I said was Black Pudding.

With food in my mouth, even with death
I could only think "This is good!"
So I asked for dessert. Though my heart had no mirth
My belly was as happy as it could!

Gluttony held a knife.
I sightly raiséd my fork.
The other pirates took their backs from the wall.
They were scared, them all!
And I was just a boy!
Gluttony looked at his toy.
Cutting a pie
Cutting a fruit
Cutting my flesh, for God's sake!
What was this madman thinking?!


Pieces of gold, pieces of eight!
fairest diamonds, rubies and jade!
The King of Greed could not be still
If his deep pockets he could not fill.

A dangerous man, from the far-off north
Were the land was covered in eternal frost
His fair hair and smile could any men glit.
But his furry coat was not only to heat...

Stolen treasures his hands had met
Found their way to his pocket's depth.
Gleaming eyes that watched their prey
And a nasty hand that all carried away.


"And curse the names
of Heaven and Kingdom!
For which we enslave our days
Let us live in Freedom!"

So shouted White-Beard,
who was our father.
So shouted the man
that went no further.

We watched him fall
With fear and awe.
Giant mountain,
So died our Captain.


We entered the chambers of the King
All of sudden we were underwater.
Such was the presence of that thing
That thing I can only call presence.

And on his throne
of gold and bone
(sculpted with anger
strikes and fury
on the bones of the men
who hunted them
and had imprisioned them
in the land of Darien)
was a King of muscles
rigid and firm
Spitting his presence
To all who stepped in
The chambers of such King,
The King of Darien!

Então esse foi o último post do meu blog. Isso é uma idéia que eu tive de escrever um poema épico sobre piratas, que seria chamado de A Caribíada (porque Caribe). Mais tarde resolvi mudar o nome para "The Seven Deadly Kings", por causa dos sete personagens principais, que seriam os sete reis piratas, encarnando cada um um dos pecados capitais. Além deles haveria John Briggs, um marujo que se vê metido no meio da história, sem sequer querer estar lá e que é o verdadeiro protagonista. Escrevi isso já faz mais de um ano, mas só resolvi postar agora as partes que eu achei que ficaram melhores, ou as que me divertiram mais quando eu as escrevi. (Sim, dá para ver o quão mal eu escrevo se essas são as melhores partes!)
Como o blog encerra por aqui, deixo a Caribíada de despedida.
Por que encerrar? Porque eu cansei um pouco, e porque não preciso mais escrever aqui. Andei vendo tudo o que já guardei Aqui Em Hinée e as lembranças são boas - valeu a pena, tudo, mas sinto que não quero mais continuar.

À musa deste lugar, que me fez escrever tanto aqui: muito obrigado
Sing me, O lavish muse, of the foolish lingerer
That could not dare his fate to bear
Solemn animal of subdued state
With ready-clothes, O, he used to wait!

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