Vi os grandes montes de giestas e urzes sob o céu azul quando os corvos se libertavam da humidade nocturna. O teu rosto era inacessível, ali, no meio da desagregação das formas. Vi que os teus gestos se recompunham dentro de mim sob o modo intacto da inocência. Procurei o frágil equilíbrio da poesia e passei a escrever fora dos limites da variação do vento. Senti as árvores a nascerem das almas frias das janelas. A casa era uma noite sobre falésias com o objectivo preciso de reproduzir a solidão. Pushkin apareceu-me morto depois do duelo. Não chorava, apenas acariciava a testa como quem pensa se valeu a pena deixar de existir daquela maneira.

Posso descrever-te de várias maneiras, mas prefiro imaginar-te com vocação para improvisares desassossegos. Gosto de te ouvir recitar poemas infindáveis que falam de fecundidade, melancolia, aves loucas, imagens, destinos absolutos e cores trágicas.

Também eu, como Mallarmé, estou obcecado pelo azul. Também eu, como Luis Borges, recito Verlaine à chuva. Eu, que nunca conheci poetas franceses nem argentinos.

Posteriormente esperei por ti na Irlanda, eu que eu nunca lá fui.

Pling, plong, plang, pling, ping, ping, ping, ping, plong, plang, pling, ping, ping, ping, ping, plong, plang, pling, ping…

Também eu sou um caminho possível, um caminho pronto a ser trilhado pela primeira vez.

Eu gosto de ser todas as possibilidades para poder ordenar o teu mundo. Não sou certeza. Sou a experiência de dois dias antes da criação. Um número ímpar. Sou o resultado da minha própria dificuldade. Sou o teu coração procurando paz.

Nenhuma superstição me afasta de ti, nem o destino dos conceitos improváveis.

No interior do teu mar, eu sou triste como a sombra dos barcos. A tua matemática animal manipula a homenagem às cidades. Eu serei sempre um verso solsticial de um poema rural, um sonho múltiplo contagiado pela liberdade. Eu celebro a liberdade, o idioma da liberdade, os lábios da liberdade.

A Primavera engrandece a lucidez, o hábito diário do renascimento, a incómoda herança da mortalidade.

Está perto o destino efémero dos frutos, o destino dos homens dedicados à heresia dos livros.

Partirei numa manhã de caligrafia mortal, depois da escrita da última palavra do esquecimento.

Serei então a derradeira tese da filosofia: eu sou nada e todas as coisas.

Plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong, plong…

Deixa que te fale na esplêndida metáfora da chuva quando os teus olhos desfilam pelos montes em invasões fascinantes de cinzento. Sim, do lado de lá da lucidez, onde nascem os crisântemos, onde a luz se transforma em vício e as palavras se tomam do sabor acre das ervas, lá onde os sítios se enobrecem, lá onde nos amámos entre o ciciar dos fetos, lá onde ainda cresce o dia do tamanho do sol, lá a chuva nem sempre é apaixonada. Dizem que não existem sentimentos irredutíveis. Eu sei que sim. Entra a chuva pela porta do quarto e o teu corpo torna-se reflexivo. Alguém fala da retórica das espessas bátegas de água. Isso é como permanecer junto às falésias ouvindo pequeninos poemas chineses. A borboleta desenha a cor dos teus lábios. Um beijo é uma tentação pontuada pelas aves do amanhecer. O gozo feminino dos espasmos flui na tarde e penetra nos parques e jardins de cores crepusculares. Depois as tempestades a caminho do mar esboçam conclusões. Tu és uma conclusão e isso dói-me. A chuva tece fios invisíveis que atravessam os vales repletos de doçura. A madrugada inicia o seu perpétuo movimento longitudinal. Há nela uma claridade indizível, algo próximo de um deus nascido da alma humana. Deixo-me fechar numa carta e leio-me por dentro. Eu sou agora o que existe por dentro. O que existe dentro de mim e dentro de ti. Sinto aproximar-se o instinto da criação com as suas palavras azuis, com a sua vontade desordenada, como se fosse um olhar demorado pela mágoa. Também em ti corre a determinação desassossegada de te descobrires. É essa nostalgia infinita que nos come a felicidade. A nostalgia infinita da verdade humana. A verdade humana da natureza infinita. Deus é um espelho interior, a sabedoria do silêncio duplo, do movimento de regresso. Volto a ti como um vento litúrgico que percorre o mundo em busca da razão das palavras. Nada sei sobre mim. A tempestade desordena-me a razão. Eu sou de outro lugar, do espaço do exílio.

O espaço permanece horizontal.

Toda a solidão é a poesia verosímil da ausência. A expressão descuidada da imaginação.

Tu és uma espécie de destino. Um poema sentido.

O teu principal movimento é a sensibilidade.

A triste solidão.

A invenção triste da solidão.

Tu em frente do espelho enalteces as metáforas dos espaços.

Toda a eternidade é arbitrária.

Toda a solidão é uma forma de destino.

O espaço mantém-se horizontal.

Afinal, no fim do caminho nada sei sobre as pedras dos meus atalhos.

Ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping…

A música abandona os teus dedos. Tudo é luz. O caos é um deus perpétuo. É como os números e a razão dos segredos. A água atravessa os afogados e assim começa a entrar no inferno. A vida é uma gramática abrasadora que devora os rostos e a matéria dos sítios. O amor é uma máquina suada. O teu olhar é uma gramática elementar. Alguém sopra aos deuses os nomes das portas do paraíso. É humana a tua aceleração em direcção ao infinito.