Leitura Matinal -68

De todos os desequilíbrios que podem atormentar
a mente humana, o maior de todos será, porque
duro de controlar o oferecido pelo tandem da
memória e do esquecimento. As pequenas doses não
matam mas vão cavando o terreno para o desespero.
Se nos momentos de calma temos presente a noção
de que a nossa memória é selectiva, deveríamos
também considerar que o esquecimento que os outros
protagonizam também o é. Mas isso seria mais do que
a nossa sobreaquecida hipersensibilidade conseguiria
aguentar. Ilustro-o com o poema hoje publicado,
contrapondo-o à oriental busca da evaporação das
memórias como libertação da malignidade opressora
da vida.
De Dylan Thomas:

SINCE, ON A QUIET NIGHT

Since, on a quiet night, I heard them talk
Who have no voices but the winds´
Of all the mistery there is in life
And all the mastery there is in death,
I have not lain an hour asleep
But troubled by their curious speech
Stealing so softly into the ears.
One says: There was a woman with no friend,
And, standing over the sea, she´d cry
Her loneliness across the empty waves
Time after time.
And every voice:
Oblivion is as loverless;
Oblivion is as loverless.
And then again: There was a child
Upon the earth who knew no joy,
For there was no light in his eyes,
And there is no light in his soul.
Oblivion is as blind,
Oblivion is as blind,
I hear them say out the darkness
Who have no talk but that of death.