Poesia e música (Mayara Floss)

Olá balseiros,

Mais uma vez tentando viver cada minutinho da Irlanda, estudando e aproveitando os amigos, a música, a poesia... Dessa vez com uma parceria entre a Sociedade de Escritores da Universidade (Writer's Soc of NUIG) e o nosso grupo que cada vez ganha uma forma diferente, baixo, cajón, poesia e amizade. Dessa vez fizemos um arranjo para o poema da Megan Mauro escritora da sociedade dos escritores chamado "Siren Song", em português a  "música da sereia". Espero que gostem!

SIREN SONG

I let down my hair and the lighthouses fall. Call it coincidence,

call it siren song, call it a debt to the sea. Your skin is on the floor

where I peeled it off your bones. The sky is turning red, the sea is

full of stars. We make love that isn’t love. Is it the woman or the

poet in me who takes a lover in each corner of the world? Who

kisses with her eyes open. Who misses the wrong people. The

lighthouse never pointed home anyway, just pulled you further from

the shore and this woman, this poet, she never learned to swim. Your

skin is thick with salt and I hear waves inside your chest. Will you

name them after me? Will you forget me when I’m gone? If we’re

sharing secrets, let me tell you this: I will miss you across continents.

I will see you in my dreams. I will wear your whispers in my hair and

when the lighthouse falls, you’ll think of me. We will not love each

other, but something will fall. Something always falls. The woman

tries to catch them and the poet lets them shatter, and my castles all

are full of broken things. Here are the words that I meant to say. Here

are the gifts that I wanted to give you. We never knew each other but

no one wants to tell us that. Ask the poet how that goes. Ask the woman

why she’s singing. Do you understand this language or should I start again?

I let down my hair and the lighthouses fall. You are far from home

and I am not much closer. The sky is turning purple, the birds have all

gone home. Neither of us was looking for the lighthouse anyway. You

touch me like a poem and I am singing in a language that we don’t understand.

Call it emptiness. Call it hope. Call it siren song.

Voam abraços,

Mayara Floss

[Mayara Floss publica na Rua Balsa das 10 quase todas as 4as-feiras]