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por Oldfox, em 18.06.13

Tips, Tips, Tips II

POEMA de BOLAÑO

Roberto Bolaño é um desses fenómenos "post-morten", uma espécie de Stieg Larsson do hemisfério sul, de W.G. Sebald latino-americano.

Foi um escritor surpreeendente e excêntrico. Tudo o que vai surgindo da sua autoria, torna-se imediatamente notícia. Pobre diabo que já cá não está para gozar um merecido aplauso! Mas nós, por enquanto, ainda aqui estamos para o ler.

Aqui, um poema de "Unknown University", a edição da sua poesia completa, traduzida para o inglês por Laura Healy, a publicar pela New Directions, em 11 de Julho, 2013.


Roberto Bolano is one of those weird cases of success garanted. (post-morten).This poem is drawn from "The Unknown University", an edition of Roberto Bolaño’s complete poetry, translated by Laura Healy, to be published on July 11 by New Directions.

 

Toward the end of 1992 he was very sick
and had separated from his wife.
That was the goddamn truth:
he was alone and fucked
and he tended to think there was little time left.
But dreams, oblivious to sickness,
showed up every night
with a loyalty that came to surprise him.
Dreams took him to that magical country
he and no one else called Mexico City
and Lisa and the voice of Mario Santiago
reading a poem
and so many other good things worthy
of the most ardent praise.
Sick and alone, he would dream
and confront the days that passed inexorably
toward the end of another year.
And from it he gathered a bit of strength and courage.
Mexico, the phosphorescent steps in the night,
the music playing on corners
where in the past whores would freeze
(in the icy heart of Colonia Guerrero)
and would dole him out the sustenance needed
to clench his teeth
and not cry in fear.

 

 

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