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o-meu-pensamento

o-meu-pensamento

Cântico Negro

Maio 25, 2018

Isis Erzsébeth Báthory

"Vem por aqui" - dizem-me alguns com os olhos doces

Estendendo-me os braços, e seguros

De que seria bom que eu os ouvisse

Quando me dizem: "vem por aqui!"

Eu olho-os com olhos lassos,

(Há, nos olhos meus, ironias e cansaços)

E cruzo os braços,

E nunca vou por ali...

 

A minha glória é esta:

Criar desumanidade!

Não acompanhar ninguém.

- Que eu vivo com o mesmo sem-vontade

Com que rasguei o ventre à minha mãe

 

Não, não vou por aí! Só vou por onde

Me levam meus próprios passos...

 

Se ao que busco saber nenhum de vós responde

Por que me repetis: "vem por aqui!"?

 

Prefiro escorregar nos becos lamacentos,

Redemoinhar aos ventos,

Como farrapos, arrastar os pés sangrentos,

A ir por aí...

 

Se vim ao mundo, foi

Só para desflorar florestas virgens,

E desenhar meus próprios pés na areia inexplorada!

O mais que faço não vale nada.

 

Como, pois sereis vós

Que me dareis impulsos, ferramentas e coragem

Para eu derrubar os meus obstáculos?...

Corre, nas vossas veias, sangue velho dos avós,

E vós amais o que é fácil!

Eu amo o Longe e a Miragem,

Amo os abismos, as torrentes, os desertos...

 

Ide! Tendes estradas,

Tendes jardins, tendes canteiros,

Tendes pátria, tendes tectos,

E tendes regras, e tratados, e filósofos, e sábios...

Eu tenho a minha Loucura !

Levanto-a, como um facho, a arder na noite escura,

E sinto espuma, e sangue, e cânticos nos lábios...

 

Deus e o Diabo é que guiam, mais ninguém.

Todos tiveram pai, todos tiveram mãe;

Mas eu, que nunca principio nem acabo,

Nasci do amor que há entre Deus e o Diabo.

 

Ah, que ninguém me dê piedosas intenções!

Ninguém me peça definições!

Ninguém me diga: "vem por aqui"!

A minha vida é um vendaval que se soltou.

É uma onda que se alevantou.

É um átomo a mais que se animou...

Não sei por onde vou,

Não sei para onde vou

- Sei que não vou por aí!

 

José Régio

The City in the Sea

Abril 12, 2018

Isis Erzsébeth Báthory

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne

In a strange city lying alone

Far down within the dim West,

Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best

Have gone to their eternal rest.

There shrines and palaces and towers

(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)

Resemble nothing that is ours.

Around, by lifting winds forgot,

Resignedly beneath the sky

The melancholy waters lie.

No rays from the holy heaven come down

On the long night-time of that town;

But light from out the lurid sea

Streams up the turrets silently-

Gleams up the pinnacles far and free-

Up domes- up spires- up kingly halls-

Up fanes- up Babylon-like walls-

Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers

Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers-

Up many and many a marvellous shrine

Whose wreathed friezes intertwine

The viol, the violet, and the vine.

Resignedly beneath the sky

The melancholy waters lie.

So blend the turrets and shadows there

That all seem pendulous in air,

While from a proud tower in the town

Death looks gigantically down.

 

There open fanes and gaping graves

Yawn level with the luminous waves;

But not the riches there that lie

In each idol's diamond eye-

Not the gaily-jewelled dead

Tempt the waters from their bed;

For no ripples curl, alas!

Along that wilderness of glass-

No swellings tell that winds may be

Upon some far-off happier sea-

No heavings hint that winds have been

On seas less hideously serene.

 

But lo, a stir is in the air!

The wave- there is a movement there!

As if the towers had thrust aside,

In slightly sinking, the dull tide-

As if their tops had feebly given

A void within the filmy Heaven.

The waves have now a redder glow-

The hours are breathing faint and low-

And when, amid no earthly moans,

Down, down that town shall settle hence,

Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,

Shall do it reverence.

 

Edgar Allan Poe

Genesis

Maio 28, 2017

Isis Erzsébeth Báthory

 

f47b91c3723c662d2d642866883f8700.jpg

 

 So peerless was the man

At licking the Priest's opus

That Kitra foraged accross the unholy ground

In a flurry of lust to pleasure and possess him

The insipid ´Cain, the Moon's slave

For Awan was to involved in the cult of the Sun

Pierced in bloody forests as he reaped for his Goddess

And ran with the brute creation Kira had offered him

Gulping for life

Cain, roaming, gave in to Kitra's Sin

But not without her spreading her smirk around his pulsing neck

His undivine attention won

and fangs came to grips

But no seed ever passed from him

 

Some hate

Maio 27, 2017

Isis Erzsébeth Báthory

612px-Frederick_Leighton_-_The_Reconciliation_of_t

Rather than breaking away

Maintain something hateful

I no longer remember the excruciating pain

I just blew it

I guess I need a reminder of what it feels like to be abused

I must have looked for it

It could have been anyone else's words

Giving my tears to no one

When I loved, I got (ab)used

The thoughts flow through my mind

Your touch stays on my skin 

Your hateful words stay in my head

I feel it sinking in

Here come my insecurities

I almost expected you to leave.

Were you really loving me?

 

 

Love

Outubro 28, 2016

Isis Erzsébeth Báthory

43a1bdf0381db996256e3b3ffcb0d565.jpg

 Love, my dearest love

Both you and I know

We know the sad and melancholic truth

If it were real you and I

We wouldn't have all of these insane thoughts

Now our bed seems to be on fire

It's all smoke and fume around us

It's useless to try an escape

It's too late to try saving us

I've hurt you, I've killed something inside you

And you've taken revenge on me

Oh now it's too late

Mais sobre mim

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