alguns poemas escritos dentro de classe + ÚLTIMA POSTAGEM DO ANO

MAIS ALGUNS POEMAS – completos e incompletos – ESCRITOS DENTRO DE CLASSE
POEMAS INCOMPLETOS

PARQUE INDUSTRIAL PETROQUÍMICO
[falta terminar]
Por algum acaso, estamos competindo
Ou nos fazendo de idiotas?
Eu estou abaixo e à frente de seu nariz
Na frente de seus olhos –
Você não consegue perceber
Que estou louco para te beijar?
Atualmente, estamos cegos e surdos e burros.
Estamos Amaldiçoados:
estamos Apaixonados!
Você tem tanto a dizer e eu me sinto (tão) estúpido perto de você...
Idiotas sempre desejam as inteligentes lindas –
Você consegue nos identificar como personagens nesta analogia?
Perto de você, é como se fosse sempre Primavera e, às vezes, Verão e Inverno também.
O que existe e o que não existe
e o que, possivelmente, pode existir...
Ondas rolam em meus pensamentos
que é onde você está atualmente...
Para onde elas vão depois de nós as pensarmos?

:: .. :: novembro e dezembro de 2008 :: .. ::


PARQUE INDUSTRIAL SIDERÚRGICO
[falta terminar]
ESTRELAS feitas de sonhos e esperanças...
Árvores com folhas marrons e folhas verdes...
Árvores marrons sem folhas que estiveram antes de nossos avós e, provavelmente, estarão depois de termos passado...
Estrelas feitas de carne e ossos e músculos e sangue...
E como subir ao céu e escala-lo para finalmente te alcançar?
Ter finalmente nossas mãos nas nossas
Ter finalmente nossos lábios nos nossos
Eu sonho acordado pensando nisso!
Sua voz é o ressoar do Trovão que antecede a Tempestade
ou o gotejar da Chuva constante de Novembro a Abril ou Maio?
Seu cheiro é o de uma rua recém-pavimentada com Cimento Betuminoso Usinado a Quente
ou de um dos mais doces femininos Boticários de flores?
Eu não consigo não pensar em você
mesmo com a mais violenta das ressacas:
51 – Duelo – Democrata – Vegas.
Eu admito que tentei te ver depois de todas as garrafas secas...
Procurei em cada uma das estrelas
Tentar descobrir qual delas era você.
Me ilumine com toda a sua energia, Estrela!
Entre em Supernova e desintegre-me até a alma!
Eu digo seu nome para que somente eu possa ouvir...
Eu digo seu nome para mim mesmo antes de dormir...
Me acompanhe com sua luz quando eu estiver me esvaindo...

:: .. :: dezembro de 2008 :: .. ::

POEMAS COMPLETOS

[poema ainda sem título]
Verdammt Kater! :: Maldita ressaca!
Verdammt Kater! :: Maldita ressaca!
Verdammt Kater! :: Maldita ressaca!
Warum steht ich auf? :: Por quê eu acordei?
Zestören alles erneut! :: Destruir tudo de novo!
Gezestört doch mehr ein Mal! :: Tudo destruído mais uma vez!
Ich werd nicht sterben! :: Eu não vou morrer!
Ich sterb! :: Eu ‘tô morrendo!
Es hat keine Hoffnung! :: Não existe esperança!
Es hat kein Leben! :: Não existe vida!
Es hat kein Todesfall! :: Não existe morte!
Es hat nur den Kater...! :: Existe somente a ressaca...!
Wirgesagt Kater! :: Bendita ressaca!
Wirgesagt Kater! :: Bendita ressaca!
Wirgesagt Kater! :: Bendita ressaca!
Demnach denk ich nicht über Frauen... :: Assim não penso em mulheres...
Demnach denk ich nicht über Vestibularen... :: Assim não penso em vestibulares...
Demnach denk ich nicht über irgen Scheiße... :: Assim não penso em merda alguma...
Weil tun meine Augen weh... :: Pois meus olhos doem...
Weil tun mein Köpf weh... :: Pois minha cabeça dói...
Weil tun meine Kneen weh... :: Pois meus joelhos doem...
Kater! :: Ressaca!
Kater! :: Ressaca!
Kater! :: Ressaca!

:: .. :: 15 de dezembro de 2008 :: .. ::


[poema ainda sem título]
Eu te vejo
indo e vindo
sempre olhando
Pra
algum lugar.
Eu te vejo
sempre
sem saber
onde sua cabeça
realmente
está.
É como
se você estivesse
sempre a passeio.
É como
se você
não tivesse
nenhum
receio.
Eu sei somente o óbvio:
que você é tão
bonita.
Mas, oh!,
não sei nem o seu
nome
e nem o quê
você quer de sua
vida!
Com quem você:
sonha?
O que você:
deseja?
O que te deixa:
frustrada?
O que te deixa:
irritada,
sem graça,
(des)motivada,
embasbacada?
Se somos nossos
ideais,
quais são os
seus?
Seja bonita
para
sempre.
Seja
você mesma
para
sempre.

Pois é, não é? Dia 15 deste mês se formaram QUATRO ANOS completos deste blog!!!! Muito tempo, dependendo de como se olha.
Muita coisa aconteceu e muita coisa deixou de acontecer de 15 de dezembro de 2004 até hoje, 30 de dezembro de 2008.
Eu só gostaria de deixar aqui registrado o quanto sou grato a todas as pessoas que tornaram possível a continuidade (nem sempre contínua) deste blog. São muitos nomes e eu simplesmente não posso citar todos e nem uns em detrimento dos outros. Mas as pessoas que eu simplesmente não posso esquecer de agradecer ainda são: Márcio Lins de Carvalho [que me deu a idéia de fazer este blog], Ângela Maria Alexandrino Maia [minha mãe, é claro], Luciano Ribeiro de Souza Costa [o cara que me disse o que era realmente um blog e como ele funcionava, além de ter feito o meu primeiro!], Jackson Siroteaux Silva Reis + Elias Silva Nascimento + Edjan Silva Carvalho [por serem grandes amigos, sempre me emprestarem alguns Quadrinhos fodásticos e permitirem eu atualizar este blog nas casas deles], e, por fim, Lucas Pontes + Fernanda Tamie Isobe Lima [por finalmente terem criado seus blogs].

Além dos meus amigos de praxe, eu gostaria muitíssimo de agradecer real e verdadeiramente a: Meine Neuerschwestern Raquel, Tami-chan und Tiene; Herr Pitts und seiner Familie; Vítor Morte e André Vida; Lehrerinnen Fabíola + Nair; Herr und Frau Baldez + und Kinder; Goblin; Pupunha; Matt; Frau Rosa Thury; Dani Bessa; Ka-chan; André Morto + Chokos Velocidade-do-Trovão; Luís; Angra; Farinha + Fernanda; Uchiha-kun; Venom; Lissa Carolina Crina-Vermelha-da-Loucura; Akim; Rê; Liv; Natt; Leandro Cadáver; Key-chan; Clarisse; Murilo; Fernanda; Rômulo; Sílvio; Gabi; Mexicano; Fase; Salsicha; Johnatan; Dentinho e Cidinho; Ehtero; Bruno Lobinho; Kaandra; Annie Aragão; Karina Kleinwulf e Tati Moraes por terem feito do meu ano algo que realmente valeu a pena ter sido vivido!


Hela Colares, Alemão + Cléo, Maurício e Rosiane – parabéns pelas primogênitas!

“I’m on the sky tonight
There I keep by your side
Watching the whole world riot and round and round
I’ll be coming home next year”
– Foo Fighters, “Next Year”, do album There Is Nothing Left To Lose, de 1999

até 2009, porra!
(Lestat e Frauda, vocês fizeram festas caralhalmente fodásticas este ano em suas respectivas casas! ano que vem, REPITAM AS DOSES!)

SIMON & GARFUNKEL - BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER - 1970

BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER
When you’re weary
Feeling small
When tears are in your eyes
I will dry them all

I’m on your side
When times get rough
And friends just can’t be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down

When you’re down and out
When you’re on the street
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you

I’ll take your part
When darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down

Sail on Silver Girl,
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way

See how they shine
If you need a friend
I’m sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind

EL CONDOR PASA (IF I COULD)
I’d rather be a sparrow than a snail
Yes, I would
If I could
I surely would

I’d rather be a hammer than a nail
Yes, I would
If I only could
I surely would

Away, I’d rather sail away
Like a swan that’s here and gone
A man gets tied up to the crown
He gives the world
Its saddest song

I’d rather be a forest than a street
Yes, I would
If I could
I surely would

I’d rather feel the earth beneath my feet
Yes, I would
If I only could
I surely would

CECILIA
Cecilia, you’re breaking my heart
You’re shaking my confidence daily
Oh Cecilia, I’m down on my knees
I’m begging you please to come home
Come on home

Making love in the afternoon with Cecilia
Up in my bedroom
I got up to wash my face
When I come back to bed
Someone's taken my place

Jubilation
She loves me again
I fall on the floor and I’m laughing
Jubilation
She loves me again
I fall on the floor and I’m laughing

KEEP THE CUSTOMER SATISFIED
Gee but its great to be back home
Home is where I want to be
I’ve been on the road so long my friend
That if you came along I know you couldn’t disagree
It’s the same old story
Everywhere I go I get slandered
Libeled, I hear words I never heard in the bible
And I’m one step ahead of the shoeshine
Two steps away from the county line
Just trying to keep my customers satisfied
Satisfied

Deputy Sheriff said to me
Tell me what you came here for boy
You better get your bags and flee
You’re in trouble boy
And now you're heading into more
It’s the same old story
Everywhere I go
I get slandered
Libeled
I hear words I never heard in the bible
And I’m one step ahead of the shoe shine.

SO LONG, FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT
So long, Frank Lloyd Wright
I can’t believe your song is gone so soon
I barely learned the tune
So soon
So soon

I’ll remember
Frank Lloyd Wright
All of the nights we'd harmonize till dawn
I never laughed so long
So long
So long

Architects may come and
Architects may go and
Never change your point of view
When I run dry
I stop awhile and think of you

So long, Frank Lloyd Wright
All of the nights we'd harmonize till dawn
I never laughed so long
So long
So long

THE BOXER
I am just a poor boy
Though my story’s seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles such are promises
All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station running scared
Laying low,
Seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know
Lie la lie ...

Asking only workman’s wages
I come looking for a job
But I get no offers,
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare,
There were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there
Lie la lie ...

Then I’m laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters
Aren't bleeding me
leading me, going home
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev’ry glove that layed him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the fighter still remains
Lie la lie ...

BABY DRIVER
My daddy was the family bassman
My mamma was an engineer
And I was born one dark gray morn
With music coming in my ears
In my ears

They call me Baby Driver
And once upon a pair of wheels
Hit the road and I'm gone ah
What’s my number?
I wonder how your engine feels
Ba ba ba ba
Scoot down the road
What’s my number?
I wonder how your engine feels

My daddy was a prominent frogman
My mamma’s in the Naval reserve
When I was young I carried a gun
But I never got the chance to serve
I did not serve

My daddy got a big promotion
My mamma got a raise in pay
There’s no-one home, we’re all alone
Oh come in my room and play
Yes we can play

I’m not talking about your pigtails
But I’m talking ‘bout your sex appeal
Hit the road and I’m gone ah
What's my number?
I wonder how your engine feels
Ba ba ba ba
Scoot down the road
What’s my number?
I wonder how your engine feels

THE ONLY LIVING BOY IN NEW YORK
Tom, catch your plane ride on time
I know you’re part will go fine
Fly down to Mexico
Dot-n-do-do
And here I am
The only living boy in New York

I get the news I need
On the weather report
I can gather news I need
On the weather report

Hey I’ve got nothing to do today
But smile
And here I am
The only living boy in New York

Half of the time we’re gone
But we don’t know where
And we don’t know where

Ah... Here I am

Half of the time we’re gone
But we don’t know where
And we don’t know where

Tom, catch your plane ride on time
I know that you’ve been eager to fly now
Hey let your honesty shine shine shine now
Dot-n-do-do-do

Like it shines on me
The only living boy in New York
The only living boy in New York

Ah... Here I am
Ah... Here I am
(observação: “Tom” é uma referência a Artur Garfunkel, um velho apelido dos dias quando S&G eram conhecidos como Tom e Jerry. Paul Simon escreveu esta canção quando Artur Garfunkel estava no México para sua participação no filme Catch 22.)

WHY DON’T YOU WRITE ME?
Why don’t you write me?
I’m out in the jungle
I’m hungry to hear you
Send me a card
I am waiting so hard
To be near you. (La, la, la)
Why don’t you write?
Something is wrong
And I know I got to be there
Maybe I’m lost
But I can’t make the cost
Of the airfare

Tell me why
Why
Why
Tell me why
Why
Why

Why don’t you write me?
A letter would brighten
My loneliest evening
Mail it today
If it’s only to say
That you're leaving me. (La, la, la)

Monday morning, sitting in the sun
Hoping and wishing for the mail to come
Tuesday, never got a word
Wednesday, Thursday, ain’t no sign
Drank a half a bottle of iodine
Friday, woe is me
Gonna hang my body from the highest tree
Why don’t you write me?

BYE BYE LOVE
compositores: Felice and Boudleaux Bryant
Bye bye love
Bye bye happiness
Hello loneliness
I think I’m gonna cry
Bye bye love
Bye bye sweet caress
Hello emptiness
I feel like I could die
Bye bye my love, goodbye

There goes my baby
With someone new
She sure looks happy
I sure am blue
She was my baby
Till he stepped in
Goodbye to romance
That might have been

Bye bye love
Bye bye happiness
Hello loneliness
I think I'm gonna cry
Bye bye love
Bye bye sweet caress
Hello emptiness
I feel like I could die
Bye bye my love, goodbye

I’m through with romance
I’m through with love
I’m through with counting
The stars above
And here’s the reason
That I’m so free
My loving baby
Is through with me

Bye bye love
Bye bye happiness
Hello loneliness
I think I’m gonna cry
Bye bye love
Bye bye sweet caress
Hello emptiness
I feel like I could die
Bye bye my love, goodbye

SONG FOR THE ASKING
Here is my song for the asking
Ask me and I will play
So sweetly, I’ll make you smile

This is my tune for the taking
Take it, don’t turn away
I’ve been waiting all my life

Thinking it over
I’ve been sad
Thinking it over
I’d be more glad
To change my ways for the asking
Ask me I will play
All the love that I hold inside

espero que vocês tenham gostado!
até a próxima!

SIMON & GARFUNKEL - BOOKENDS - 1968

BOOKENDS THEME
[tema instrumental]

SAVE THE LIFE OF MY CHILD
Good god! Don’t jump!
A boy sat on the ledge.
An old man who had fainted was revived.
And everybody agreed it would be a miracle indeed
If the boy survived
“Save the life of my child!”
Cried the desperate mother.

The woman from the supermarket
Ran to call the cops.
“He must be high of something”, someone said.
Though it never made The New York Times,
In the Daily News, the caption read,

“Save the life of my child!”
Cried the desperate mother.

A patrol car passing by
Halted to a stop.
Said officer MacDougal in dismay:
“The force can’t do a decent job
“Cause the kids got no respect
For the law today (and blad blad blad).”

“Save the life of my child!”
Cried the desperate mother.
“what’s becoming of the children?”
People asking each other.

When darkness fell, excitement kissed the crowd
And made them wild
In an atmosphere of freaky holiday.
When the spotlight hit the boy,
The crowd began to cheer,
He flew away.
“Oh, my Grace, I got no hiding place.”

AMERICA
“Let us be lovers, we’ll marry our fortunes together”
“I’ve got some real estate here in my bag”
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies
And we walked off to look for America

“Kathy”, I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh
“Michigan seems like a dream to me now”
It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw
I’ve gone to look for America

Laughing on the bus
Playing games with the faces
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy
I said “Be careful, his bowtie is really a camera”
“Toss me a cigarette, I think there’s one in my raincoat”
“We smoked the last one an hour ago”
So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine
And the moon rose over an open field

“Kathy, I’m lost”, I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey turnpike
They’ve all gone to look for America
All gone to look for America
All gone to look for America

OVERS
Why don’t we stop fooling ourselves?
The game is over,
Over,
Over.
No good times, no bad times,
There’s no times at all,
Just the New York Times,
Sitting on the windowsill
Near the flowers.

We might as well be apart.
It hardly matters,
We sleep separately.

And drop a smile passing in the hall
But there’s no laughs left
Cause we laughed them all.
And we laughed them all
In a very short time.

Time
Is tapping on my forehead,
Hanging from my mirror,
Rattling the teacups,
And I wonder,
How long can I delay?
Were just a habit
Like saccharin.

And I’m habitually feelin kinda blue.

But each time I try on
The thought of leaving you,
I stop...
I stop and think it over.

VOICES OF OLD PEOPLE
[isto não é bem uma canção, é um monte de reclamares de velhos dizendo o quanto a vida deles era boa na época deles e que, agora, nada mais presta]

OLD FRIENDS
Old Friends
Old Friends
Sat on their park bench like bookends
Newspaper blowin’ through the grass
Falls on the round toes
Of the high shoes
Of the old friends

Old Friends
Winter companions the old men
Lost in their overcoats
Waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city sifting through trees
Settle like dust
On the shoulders of the old friends

Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy...

Old Friends
Narrowly brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fear

BOOKENDS THEME
A time it was
It was a time
A time of innocence
A time of confidences

Long ago it must be
I have a photograph
Preserve your memories
They’re all that’s left you

FAKIN’ IT
When she goes, she’s gone.
If she stays, she stays here.
The girl does what she wants to do.
She knows what she wants to do.
And I know I'm fakin’ it.
I'm not really makin’ it.

I’m such a dubious soul,
And a walk in the garden
Wears me down.
Tangled in the fallen vines,
Pickin’ up the punch lines,
I’ve just been fakin’ it,
Not really makin’ it.

Is there any danger?
No, no not really.
Just lean on me.
Takin' time to treat
Your friendly neighbors honestly.
I’ve just been fakin’ it.
I’m not really makin’ it.
This feeling of fakin’ it.
I still haven't shaken it.

Prior to this lifetime
I surely was a tailor
I own the tailor's face and hands.
I am the tailor's face and hands and
I know I’m fakin’ it,
I’m not really makin’ it.
This feeling of fakin’ it
I still haven't shaken it.

PUNKY’S DILEMMA
Wish I was a Kellogg’s Cornflake
Floatin’ in my bowl takin’ movies,
Relaxin’ awhile, livin' in style,
Talkin’ to a raisin who ‘casino’ly plays L.A.,
Casually glancing at his toupee.

Wish I was an English muffin
‘Bout to make the most out of a toaster.

I’d ease myself down,
Comin’ up brown.

I prefer boysenberry
More than any ordinary jam.
I’m a “Citizens for Boysenberry Jam” fan.

Ah, South California.

If I become a first lieutenant
Would you put my photo on your piano?
To Mary Jane…
Best wishes, Martin.
(Old Roger draft-dodger
Leavin' by the basement door),
Everybody knows what he's
Tippy-toeing down there for

MRS. ROBINSON
And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know.
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson,
Heaven holds a place for those who pray.

We’d like to know
A little bit about you
For our files.
We’d like to help you learn
To help yourself.
Look around you. All you see
Are sympathetic eyes.
Stroll around the grounds
Until you feel at home.

And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know.
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson,
Heaven holds a place for those who pray.

Hide it in a hiding place
Where no one ever goes.
Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes.
It’s a little secret,
Just the Robinsons’ affair.
Most of all, you've got to hide it from the kids.

And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know.
God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson,
Heaven holds a place for those who pray.

Sitting on a sofa
On a Sunday afternoon,
Going to the candidates’ debate,
Laugh about it,
Shout about it,
When you’ve got to choose,
Every way you look at it you lose.

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?
A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.

What’s that you say, Mrs. Robinson?
“Joltin’ Joe has left and gone away”

A HAZY SHADE OF WINTER
Time Time Time
See what’s become of me
While I looked around for my possibilities
I was so hard to please

But look around,
The leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Hear the Salvation Army band
Down by the riverside
It’s bound to be a better ride
Than what you got planned
Carry your cup in your hand

But look around,
The leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Hang on to your hopes my friend
That’s an easy thing to say
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend that you can build them again

Look around
Grass is high
The fields are ripe
Its the springtime of my life

Seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won’t you stop and remember me?
And at a convenient time

Funny how my memory skips
While looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme
Drinking my vodka and rhyme

But look around,
The leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

But look around,
The leaves are brown
There’s a patch of snow on the ground
But look around,
The leaves are brown
There’s a patch of snow on the ground
But look around,
The leaves are brown
There’s a patch of snow on the ground

AT THE ZOO
Someone told me it’s all happening at the zoo
I do believe it
I do believe it’s true
Mmm-mmm-mm-m
Mmm-mmm-mm
Ohh ohh ohh
Mmm-Mmm-mmm

It’s a light and tumbled journey from the east side to the park
Just to find a fancy ramble to the zoo
But you can take a cross-town buss if it's raining or it’s cold
And the animals will love it if you do
If you do now

Something tells me it’s all happening at the Zoo
I do believe it
I do believe it’s true
Mmm-mmm-mm-m
Mmm-mmm-mm
Ohh Ohh Ohh
Mmm-Mmm-mm

The monkeys stand for honesty
Giraffes are insincere
The Elephants are kindly but they're dumb
Orangutans are skeptical of changes in their cages
And the zookeeper is very fond of rum

Zebras are reactionaries
Antelopes are visionaries
Pigeons flocked in secrecy
And hamsters turn on frequently
What a cast you have to come and see
At the zoo
At the zoo
At the zoo
At the zoo
At the zoo

YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE YOUR INTEREST LIES
You don’t know that you love me,
You don’t know but I know that you do,
You may think you’re above me, yeah,
What you think isn’t always true.
Don't try to debate me,
You should know that I’m womanly wise,
Still you try to manipulate me,
You don’t know where your interest lies.
No, you don’t know where your interest lies.
You don’t begin to comprehend.

You're just a game that I like to play,
You may think that we’re friends all right,
But I won’t let friendship get in my way,
No, I won’t let friendship get in my way.

Indications indicate runnin’ the same riff will turn you around,
Obviously you’re goin' to blow it,
But you don’t know it.

You don’t know that you love me,
You don’t know but I know that you do,
You may think you’re above me, yeah,
What you think isn’t always true.
Don't try to debate me,
You should know that I’m womanly wise,
Still you try to manipulate me,
You don’t know where your interest lies.
No, you don’t know where your interest lies

na próxima postagem, o ÚLTIMO álbum de estúdio da dupla, Bridge Over Troubled Water, de 1970!

SIMON & GARFUNKEL - PARSLEY, SAGE, ROSEMARY AND THYME - 1966

j

SCARBOROUGH FAIR / CANTICLE
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Remember me to one who lives there.
She once was a true love of mine.

On the side of a hill in the deep forest green.
Tracing of sparrow on snow-crested brown.
Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain
Sleeps unaware of the clarion call.

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt:
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme;
Without no seams nor needle work,
Then she’ll be a true love of mine.

On the side of a hill a sprinkling of leaves.
Washes the grave with silvery tears.
A soldier cleans and polishes a gun.
Sleeps unaware of the clarion call.

Tell her to find me an acre of land:
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme;
Between the salt water and the sea strand,
Then she’ll be a true love of mine.

War bellows blazing in scarlet battalions.
General order their soldiers to kill.
And to fight for a cause they’ve long ago forgotten.

Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather:
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme;
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather,
Then she’ll be a true love of mine.

PATTERNS
The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves,
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees,
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall,
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child's uneven scrawl.

Up a narrow flight of stairs
In a narrow little room,
As I lie upon my bed
In the early evening gloom.
Impaled on my wall
My eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life
And the puzzle that is me.

From the moment of my birth
To the instant of my death,
There are patterns I must follow
Just as I must breathe each breath.
Like a rat in a maze
The path before me lies,
And the pattern never alters
Until the rat dies.

And the pattern still remains
On the wall where darkness fell,
And it's fitting that it should,
For in darkness I must dwell.
Like the color of my skin,
Or the day that I grow old,
My life is made of patterns
That can scarcely be controlled.

CLOUDY
Cloudy
The sky is gray and white and cloudy,
Sometimes I think it's hanging down on me.
And it’s a hitchhike a hundred miles.
I’m a rag-a-muffin child.
Pointed finger-painted smile.
I left my shadow waiting down the road for me a while.

Cloudy
My thoughts are scattered and they're cloudy,
They have no borders, no boundaries.
They echo and they swell
From Tolstoy to Tinker Bell.
Down from Berkeley to Carmel.
Got some pictures in my pocket and a lot of time to kill.

Hey sunshine
I haven’t seen you in a long time.
Why don’t you show your face and bend my mind?
These clouds stick to the sky
Like floating questions, why?
And they linger there to die.
They don’t know where they are going, and, my friend, neither do I.

Cloudy,
Cloudy.

HOMEWARD BOUND
I’m sitting in the railway station.
Got a ticket to my destination.
On a tour of one-night stands my suitcase and guitar in hand.
And ev’ry stop is neatly planned for a poet and one-man band.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

Ev’ry day’s an endless stream
Of cigarettes and magazines.
And each town looks the same to me, the movies and the factories
And ev’ry stranger's face I see reminds me that I long to be,
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

Tonight I’ll sing my songs again,
I’ll play the game and pretend.
But all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony I need someone to comfort me.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.
Silently for me.

THE BIG BRIGHT GREEN PLEASURE MACHINE
Do people have tendency to dump on you?
Does your group have more cavities than theirs?
Do have hippies seem to get jump on you?
Do you sleep alone when other sleep on pairs?
Well there’s no need to complain,
We’ll eliminate your pain.
We can neutralize your brain.
You’ll fell just fine
Now.
Buy A Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine!

Do figures of authotiry just shoot you down?
Is life within the business world a drag?
Did your boss just mention that you’d better shop around
To find yourself a productive bag?
Are you worried and distressed?
Can’t seem to get no rest?
Put your product to the test.
You’ll fell just fine
Now.
Buy A Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine!

You better hurry up and order one.
Our limited suplly is very nearly gone.

Do you nervously await the blows of cruel fate?
Do your checks bounce higher than a rubber ball?
Are you worried ‘cause your girlfriend’s just a little late?
Are you looking a way to chuck it all.
We can end your daily stripe
At a reasonable price.
You’ve seen it advertised in Life.
You’ll fell just fine
Now.
Buy A Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine!

THE 59th STREET BRIDGE SONG (FEELIN’ GROOVY)
Slow down, you move too fast.
You got to make the morning last.
Just kickin’ down the cobblestones,
Lookin’ for fun and Feelin’ Groovy.

Hello lamp post,
What cha knowin’?
I’ve come to watch your flowers growin’.
Ain’t cha got no rhymes for me?
Dootin’ doo doo,
Feelin’ Groovy.

I got no deeds to do.
No promises to keep.
I’m dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep.
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me.
Life, I love you,
All is groovy.

THE DANGLING CONVERSATION
It’s a still life water color,
Of a now late afternoon,
As the sun shines through the curtained lace
And shadows wash the room.
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference,
Like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
The borders of our lives.

And you read your Emily Dickinson,
And I my Robert Frost,
And we note our place with bookmarkers
That measure what we’ve lost.
Like a poem poorly written
We are verses out of rhythm,
Couplets out of rhyme,
In syncopated time
Lost in the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
Are the borders of our lives?

Yes, we speak of things that matter,
With words that must be said,
“Can analysis be worthwhile?”
“Is the theater really dead?”
And how the room is softly faded
And I only kiss your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand,
You’re a stranger now unto me
Lost in the dangling conversation.
And the superficial sighs,
In the borders of our lives.

FLOWERS NEVER BEND WITH THE RAINFALL
Through the corridors of sleep
Past shadows dark and deep
My mind dances and leaps in confusion
I don’t know what is real
I can’t touch what I feel
And I hide behind the shield of my illusion

So I’ll continue to continue to pretend
My life will never end
And flowers never bend
With the rainfall

The mirror on my wall
Cast an image dark and small
But I’m not sure at all it’s my reflection
I’m blinded by the light
Of God, and truth and right
And I wander in the night without direction

(It’s) no matter if you’re born
To play the king or pawn
For the line is thinly drawn ‘tween joy and sorrow
So my fantasy
Becomes reality
And I must be, what I must be, and face tomorrow

A SIMPLE DESULTORY PHILLIPIC (OR HOW I WAS ROBERT McNAMARA’D INTO SUBMISSION)
I been Norman Mailered, Maxwell Taylored.
I been John O’Hara’d, McNamara’d.
I been Rolling Stoned and Beatled till I’m blind.
I been Ayn Randed, nearly branded
Communist, ‘cause I’m left-handed.
That’s the hand I use, well, never mind!

I been Phil Spectored, resurrected.
I been Lou Adlered, Barry Sadlered.
Well, I paid all the dues I want to pay.
And I learned the truth from Lenny Bruce,
And all my wealth won’t buy me health,
So I smoke a pint of tea a day.

I knew a man, his brain was so small,
He couldn’t think of nothing at all.
He’s not the same as you and me.
He doesn't dig poetry. He's so unhip that
When you say Dylan, he thinks you’re talking about Dylan Thomas,
Whoever he was.
The man ain’t got no culture,
But it’s alright, ma,
Everybody must get stoned.

I been Mick Jaggered, silver daggered.
Andy Warhol, won’t you please come home?
I been mothered, fathered, aunt and uncled,
Been Roy Haleed and Art Garfunkeled.
I just discovered somebody’s tapped my phone

FOR EMILY, WHEREVER I MAY FIND HER
What a dream I had:
Pressed in Organdy;
Clothed in crinoline of smoky Burgundy;
Softer than the rain.
I wandered empty streets
Down past the shop displays.
I heard cathedral bells
Tripping down the alleyways,
As I walked on.

And when you ran to me
Your cheeks flushed with the night.
We walked on frosted fields of juniper and lamplight,
I held your hand.
And when I awoke and felt you warm and near,
I kissed your honey hair with my grateful tears.
Oh, I love you, girl.
Oh, I love you.

A POEM ON THE UNDERGROUND WALL
The last train is nearly due,
The underground is closing soon,
And in the dark deserted station,
Restless in anticipation,
A man waits in the shadows.

His restless eyes leap and snatch,
At all that they can touch or catch,
And hidden deep within his pocket,
Safe within its silent socket,
He holds a colored crayon.

Now from the tunnel’s stony womb,
The carriage rides to meet the groom,
And opens wide the welcome doors,
But he hesitates, then withdraws
Deeper in the shadows.

And the train is gone suddenly.
On wheels clicking silently
Like a gently tapping litany,
And he holds his crayon rosary
Tighter in his hand.

Now from his pocket quick he flashes,
The crayon on the wall he slashes,
Deep upon the advertising,
A single-worded poem comprised
Of four letters.

And his heart is laughing, screaming, pounding,
The poem across the tracks resounding,
Shadowed by the exit light
His legs take their ascending flight
To seek the breast of darkness and be suckled by the night.

7 O’CLOCK NEWS/SILENT NIGHT
This is the early evening edition of the news.
The recent fight in the House of Representatives was over the open housing section of the Civil Rights Bill.
Brought traditional enemies together but it left the defenders of the measure without the votes of their strongest supporters.
President Johnson originally proposed an outright ban covering discrimination by everyone for every type of housing but it had no chance from the start and everyone in Congress knew it.
A compromise was painfully worked out in the House Judiciary Committee.
In Los Angeles today comedian Lenny Bruce died of what was believed to be an overdose of narcotics.
Bruce was 42 years old.
Dr. Martin Luther King says he does not intend to cancel plans for an open housing march Sunday into the Chicago suburb of Cicero.
Cook County Sheriff Richard Ogleby asked King to call off the march and the police in Cicero said they would ask the National Guard to be called out if it is held King, now in Atlanta, Georgia, plans to return to Chicago Tuesday.
In Chicago Richard Speck, accused murderer of nine student nurses, was brought before a grand jury today for indictment.
The nurses were found stabbed and strangled in their Chicago apartment. In Washington the atmosphere was tense today as a special subcommittee of the House Committee on Un-American activities continued its probe into anti-Vietnam war protests.
Demonstrators were forcibly evicted from the hearings when they began chanting
anti-war slogans.
Former Vice-President Richard Nixon says that unless there is a substantial increase in the present war effort in Vietnam, the U.S. should look forward to five more years of war.
In a speech before the Convention of the Veterans of Foreign Wars in New York,
Nixon also said opposition to the war in this country is the greatest single weapon working against the U.S.
That’s the 7 o'clock edition of the news,
Goodnight.

Silent night
Holy night
All is calm
All is bright
Round yon virgin mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.

na próxima postagem, Bookends, de 1968!

SIMON & GARFUNKEL – SOUNDS OF SILENCE – 1966

THE SOUND OF SILENCE
Hello darkness, my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.

“Fools”, said I, “You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you.”
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.”
And whisper’d in the sounds of silence.

LEAVES THAT ARE GREEN
I was twenty-one years
When I wrote this song
I’m twenty-two now
But I won’t be for long
Time hurries on
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither in the wind
And they crumble in your hand

Once my heart was filled with the love of a girl
I held her close but she faded in the night
Like a poem I meant to write
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither in the wind
And they crumble in your hand

I threw a pebble in a brook
And watched the ripple run away
And they never made a sound
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither in the wind
And they crumble in your hand

Hello, hello, hello, hello
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye
That’s all there is
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither in the wind
And they crumble in your hand

BLESSED
Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit
Blessed is the lamb whose blood flows
Blessed are the sat upon
Spat upon, ratted on
Oh Lord, why have you forsaken me?
I got no place to go
I’ve walked around Soho for the last night or so
Ah, but it doesn’t matter, no

Blessed is the land and the kingdom
Blessed is the man whose soul belongs to
Blessed are the meth drinkers
Pot sellers, illusion dwellers
Oh Lord, why have you forsaken me?
My words trickle down from a wound
That I have no intention to heal

Blessed are the stained glass
Window pane glass
Blessed is the church service
Makes me nervous
Blessed are the penny rookers
Cheap hookers, groovy lookers
Oh Lord, why have you forsaken me?
I have tended my own garden
Much too long

KATHY’S SONG
I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain drenched streets
To England where my heart lies

My mind’s distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you’re asleep
Kiss you when you start your day

And the song I was writing, is left undone
I don’t know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can’t believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you, go I

SOMEWHERE THEY CAN’T FIND ME
I can hear the soft breathing of the girl that I love
As she lies here beside me, asleep with the night
And her hair in a fine mist floats on my pillow
Reflecting the glow of the winter moonlight

But I’ve got to creep down the alley way
Fly down the highway
Before they come to catch me I'll be gone
Somewhere they can’t find me

Oh baby, you don’t know what I’ve done
I've committed a crime, I’ve broken the law
While you were here sleeping and just dreaming of me
I held up and robbed a liquor store

But I’ve got to creep down the alley way
Fly down the highway
Before they come to catch me I’ll be gone
Somewhere they can’t find me

Oh my life seems unreal, my crime an illusion
A scene badly written in which I must play
And though it puts me uptight to leave you
I know it’s not right to leave you
The morning is just a few hours away

But I’ve got to creep down the alley way
Fly down the highway
Before they come to catch me I’ll be gone
Somewhere they can’t find me

ANJI
[tema instrumental]

RICHARD CORY
They say that Richard Cory
Owns one half of this whole town
With political connections
To spread his wealth around
Born into society
A banker’s only child
He had everything a man could want:
Power, grace, and style

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Richard Cory

The papers print his picture
Almost everywhere he goes
Richard Cory at the opera
Richard Cory at a show
And the rumor of his parties
And the orgies on his yacht!
Oh he surely must be happy
With everything he's got

But I, I work in his factory
And I curse the life I’m living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Richard Cory

He freely gave to charity
He had the common touch
And they were grateful for his patronage
And they thanked him very much
So my mind was filled with wonder
When the evening headlines read:
“Richard Cory went home last night
And put a bullet through his head”

But I, I work in his factory
And I curse the life I’m living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Richard Cory

A MOST PECULIAR MAN
He was a most peculiar man
That’s what Mrs. Riordan says and she should know
She lived upstairs from him
She said he was a most peculiar man

He was a most peculiar man
He lived all alone within a house
Within a room, within himself
A most peculiar man

He had no friends, he seldom spoke
And no one in turn ever spoke to him
‘Cause he wasn’t friendly and he didn’t care
And he wasn’t like them
Oh no! He was a most peculiar man

He died last Saturday
He turned on the gas and he went to sleep
With the windows closed so he’d never wake up
To his silent world and his tiny room
And Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere
Who should be notified soon?
And all the people said
“What a shame that he's dead
But wasn’t he a most peculiar man?”

APRIL COME SHE WILL
April come she will,
When streams are ripe and swell with rain.
May she will stay,
Resting in my arms again.

June she’ll change her tune,
In restless walks she’ll prowl the night.
July she will fly,
And give no warning to her flight.

August die she must,
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold.
September I’ll remember,
A love once new has now grown old.

WE’VE GOT A GROOVY THING GOIN’
Bad news, bad news!
I heard you’re packing to leave
I come a-running right over
I just couldn’t believe it
I just couldn’t believe it

Oh, baby, baby
You must be out of your mind
Do you know what you’re kicking away?
We’ve got a groovy thing goin’, baby
We’ve got a groovy thing

I never done you no wrong
I never hit you when you're down
I always gave you good loving
I never ran around
I never ran around

Oh, baby, baby
You must be out of your mind
Do you know what you're kicking away?
We’ve got a groovy thing goin’, baby
We’ve got a groovy thing

There’s something you ought to know
If you’re fixing to go
I can’t make it without you
No no no no, no no
No no, no no no no no

Oh, baby, baby
You must be out of your mind
Do you know what you’re kicking away?
We’ve got a groovy thing goin’, baby
We’ve got a groovy thing

We’ve got a groovy thing goin', baby
We've got a groovy thing

I AM A ROCK
A winter’s day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On (a) freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Don’t talk of love,
But I’ve heard the words before;
It’s sleeping in my memory.
I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

na próxima postagem, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary And Thyme, também de 1966.

SIMON & GARFUNKEL - WEDNESDAY MORNING, 3 A.M. - 1964

YOU CAN TELL THE WORLDWell you can tell the world about this
You can tell the nation about that
Tell ‘em what the master has done
Tell ‘em that the gospel has come
Tell ‘em that the victory’s been won
He brought joy, joy, joy, joy, joy, joy
Into my heart

Well my Lord spoke, he spoke so well
Yes he did, yes he did
Talked about the flames that burn in hell
Yes he did, yes he did
Now my Lord spoke, he spoke so well
Yes he did, yes he did
Talked about the children of Israel
Yes he did, yes he did
He brought joy, joy, joy into my heart

Well you can tell the world about this
You can tell the nation about that
Tell ‘em what the master has done
Tell ‘em that the gospel has come
Tell ‘em that the victory’s been won
He brought joy, joy, joy, joy, joy, joy
Into my heart

Well my Lord spoke, he spoke to me
Yes he did, yes he did
Talkin' about a man from Galilee
Yes he did, yes he did
My Lord spoke, he spoke to me
Yes he did, yes he did
Talkin' about a man from Galilee
Yes he did, yes he did
He brought joy, joy, joy into my heart

Well you can tell the world about this
You can tell the nation about that
Tell ‘em what the master has done
Tell ‘em that the gospel has come
Tell ‘em that the victory’s been won
He brought joy, joy, joy, joy, joy, joy
Into my heart

Well I don’t know but I've been told
Yes he did, yes he did
Streets of heaven are paved with gold
Yes he did, yes he did
Now the Jordan River is chilly and wide
Yes he did, yes he did
I got a home on the other side
Yes he did, yes he did
He brought joy, joy, joy into my heart

Well you can tell the world about this
You can tell the nation about that
Tell ‘em what the master has done
Tell ‘em that the gospel has come
Tell ‘em that the victory's been won
He brought joy, joy, joy, joy, joy, joy
Into my heart

LAST NIGHT I HAD THE STRANGEST DREAMLast night I had the strangest dream
I ever dreamed before
I dreamed the world had all agreed
To put an end to war
I dreamed I saw a mighty room
The room was filled with men
And the paper they were signing said
They'd never fight again

And when the papers all were signed
And a million copies made
They all joined hands and bowed their heads
And grateful prayers were prayed
And the people in the streets below
Were dancing round and round
And guns and swords and uniforms
Were scattered on the ground

Last night I had the strangest dream
I ever dreamed before
I dreamed the world had all agreed
To put an end to war

BLEECKER STREETFog’s rollin’ in off the East River bank
Like a shroud it covers Bleecker Street
Fills the alleys where men sleep
Hides the shepherd from the sheep

Voices leaking from a sad cafe
Smiling faces try to understand
I saw a shadow touch a shadow's hand
On Bleecker Street

A poet reads his crooked rhyme
Holy, holy is his sacrament
Thirty dollars pays your rent
On Bleecker Street

I heard a church bell softly chime
In a melody sustainin’
It’s a long road to Canaan
On Bleecker Street
Bleecker Street

SPARROWWho will love a little Sparrow?
Who’s traveled far and cries for rest?
“Not I”, said the Oak Tree,
“I won’t share my branches with
no sparrow’s nest,
And my blanket of leaves won't warm
her cold breast.”

Who will love a little Sparrow
And who will speak a kindly word?
“Not I”, said the Swan,
“The entire idea is utterly absurd,
I’d be laughed at and scorned if the
other Swans heard.”

Who will take pity in his heart,
And who will feed a starving sparrow?
“Not I”, said the Golden Wheat,
“I would if I could but I cannot I know,
I need all my grain to prosper and grow.”

Who will love a little Sparrow?
Will no one write her eulogy?
“I will”, said the Earth,
“For all I've created returns unto me,
From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be.”

BENEDICTUS[falta encontrar a letra!]

THE SOUND OF SILENCEHello darkness, my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.

“Fools”, said I, “You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you.”
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, “The words of the prophets are written
on the subway walls
And tenement halls.”
And whisper’d in the sounds of silence.

HE WAS MY BROTHERHe was my brother
Five years older than I
He was my brother
Twenty-three years old the day he died

Freedom rider
They cursed my brother to his face
Go home outsider
This town's gonna be your buryin’ place

He was singin’ on his knees
An angry mob trailed along
They shot my brother dead
Because he hated what was wrong

He was my brother
Tears can’t bring him back to me
He was my brother
And he died so his brothers could be free
He died so his brothers could be free

PEGGY-OAs we marched down to Faneri-o
As we marched down to Faneri-o
Our captain fell in love with a lady like a dove
And they called her name pretty Peggy-o

Come a-runnin’ down the stairs, pretty Peggy-o
Come a-runnin’ down the stairs, pretty Peggy-o
Come a-runnin’ down the stairs, combin’ back your yellow hair
You're the prettiest little girl I've ever seen-o

In a carriage you will ride, pretty Peggy-o
In a carriage you will ride, pretty Peggy-o
In a carriage you will ride, with your true love by your side
As fair as any maiden in the ar-e-o

What will your mother say, pretty Peggy-o?
What will your mother say, pretty Peggy-o?
What will your mother say, when she finds you've gone away
To places far and strange to Faneri-o?

If ever I return, pretty Peggy-o
If ever I return, pretty Peggy-o
If ever I return, all your cities I will burn
Destroying all the ladies in the ar-e-o
Destroying all the ladies in the ar-e-o

GO TELL IT ON THE MOUNTAINGo tell it on the mountains over the hills and ev’rywhere and you can go (go) tell it on the mountain, Jesus Christ was born.

Down in a lowly manger, Jesus Christ was born and the Lord sent down salvation that blesses Christmas morn,
You can go upon the mountain, dwell both night and day.
You can ask the Lord to help you and He'll show you the way.

You may be a watchman upon the city wall and if I am a Christian, if I’m the last to fall
You can go tell it on the mountain over the hills and ev’rywhere. You can go tell it on the mountain that Jesus Christ was born.

THE SUN IS BURNINGThe sun is burning in the sky
Strands of clouds go slowly drifting by
In the park the lazy breeze
Are joining in the flowers, among the trees
And the sun burns in the sky

Now the sun is in the West
Little kids go home to take their rest
And the couples in the park
Are holdin’ hands and waitin' for the dark
And the sun is in the West

Now the sun is sinking low
Children playin’ know it’s time to go
High above a spot appears
A little blossom blooms and then draws near
And the sun is sinking low

Now the sun has come to Earth
Shrouded in a mushroom cloud of death
Death comes in a blinding flash
Of hellish heat and leaves a smear of ash
And the sun has come to Earth

Now the sun has disappeared
All is darkness, anger, pain and fear
Twisted, sightless wrecks of men
Go groping on their knees and cry in pain
And the sun has disappeared

THE TIMES THEY ARE A-CHANGIN’Come gather ‘round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin’
Then you better start Swimmin’
Or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesise with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon
For the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who
That it’s namin’.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin’.

Come senators, Congressmen
Please heed the call
Don’t stand in the doorway
Don’t block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There’s a battle outside
And it is ragin’.
It’ll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin’.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin’.
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.

WEDNESDAY MORNING, 3 A.M. I can hear the soft breathing of the girl that I love
As she lies here beside me
Asleep with the night
And her hair in a fine mist floats on my pillow
Reflecting the glow of the winter moonlight

She is soft, she is warm, but my heart remains heavy
And I watch as her breasts, gently rise, gently fall
For I know with the first line of dawn I'll be leaving
And tonight will be all I have left to recall

Oh what have I done, why have I done it?
I’ve committed a crime, I’ve broken the law
For 25 dollars and pieces of silver
I held up and robbed a hard liquor store

My life seems unreal, my crime an illusion
A scene badly written in which I must play
Yet I know as I gaze at my young love beside me
The morning is just a few hours away

Na próxima postagem, The Sounds Of Silence, de 1968.

KEYLA!

Depois de praticamente um mês sem postagens, eis uma nova postagem!

[poema ainda sem título]
Ah!, que saudade d’ocê
mesmo sem nunca ter te visto.
E quando você finalmente vier:
como meus olhos brilharão?
mais poderosos do que o sol
ou de uma estrela de grandeza menor?
E que saudade imensa de seus olhos
mesmo ainda não os tendo
somente para mim!
E que saudade incomparável de seus lábios
mesmo ainda não os tendo
em contato com os meus!
E quando finalmente você vier:
meu coração manter-se-á dentro de meu peito
ou explodirá minha caixa torácica
como os alienígenas asquerosos dos filmes fazem?
Pedaços de poemas não-feitos
e restos de versos não-escritos
– todos eles reunidos para chegar ao seu
tão desejado bem-querer.
Eu tenho medo de todas as pessoas que se apaixonam
Eu sou uma delas, a mais imperfeita de todas...
Às vezes não quero escrever o que eu escrevo...
Eu gostaria de tocar tão bem quanto as pessoas dizem que eu escrevo:
escrever e tocar tão bem quanto Simon, Young e Hetfield
– poder te mostrar através de acordes e poesia
o “tanto” que eu te quero.
E que saudade imensurável de seu corpo
mesmo nunca em momento algum
tê-lo em contato com o meu.
E quando você vier finalmente
com as mais belas flores com o formato de suas mãos
e o mais belo pôr-do-sol no formato do seu sorriso:
sentir-me-ei mais feliz do que estou
com sua presença e você toda inteira?
Não é segredo que almejo:
o conforto do abrigo de seus braços
e a leveza de suas mãos e a suavidade de sua voz.
Por favor – cante para mim
as canções mais belas que você conhece.
Então Enfim Finalmente
quando vieres:
o que nascerá e o que morrerá?
More ao alcance do contato de minhas mãos e abraços e beijos!
Deixe de residir somente em meus pensamentos e em meus sonhos!

:: aula de alemão do dia 01 de dezembro de 2008 ::
:: „Vielen Dank sehr“ zu: Karen Carmona, Karina L. M. Castro, Clarissa, Rosa Thury, Lehrerin Nair Sauaia und Lehrerin Fabíola Reis ::

a partir da próxima postagem, todas as letras de todos os álbuns de estúdio da dupla Simon & Garfunkel!

get ready!