"Embrace", Gustav Klimt"Trocámos pelo olhar bilhetes em segredo."
"Pela rédea da música. (...)
O homem que não traz em si nenhuma música,
Nem o move a concórdia de notas dulcífluas,
É dado a estratagemas, traições e pilhagens;
Os impulsos do seu espírito são obscuros
E os sentimentos negros como o Érebo.
Não se confie em tal homem. Ouvir a música!"
O Mercador de Veneza, William Shakespeare, Cotovia, Tradução de Daniel Jonas, 2008, p. 18 e p. 152.
Enquanto não arranjo tempo para o post sobre o muito interessante texto de Shakespeare e para a bela peça que está em cartaz no Teatro Nacional de S.João (Recomenda-se vivamente!), deixo aqui duas passagens que - não tocando, embora, o cerne das mais profundas problemáticas presentes (muitas delas jurídicas) - me marcaram especialmente na passada sexta-feira.
3 comentários:
'BASSANIO
What find I here?
(Opening the leaden casket)
Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demi-god
Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips,
Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar
Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs
The painter plays the spider and hath woven
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men,
Faster than gnats in cobwebs; but her eyes,
How could he see to do them? having made one,
Methinks it should have power to steal both his
And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In underprizing it, so far this shadow
Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll,
The continent and summary of my fortune.
(...)
PORTIA
You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
Such as I am: though for myself alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish myself much better; yet, for you
I would be trebled twenty times myself;
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich;
That only to stand high in your account,
I might in virtue, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account; but the full sum of me
Is sum of something, which, to term in gross,
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised;
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learn; happier than this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit
Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Myself and what is mine to you and yours
Is now converted: but now I was the lord
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
Queen o'er myself: and even now, but now,
This house, these servants and this same myself
Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring;
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love
And be my vantage to exclaim on you.
(...)
BASSANIO
Madam, you have bereft me of all words,
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins'
:)
Lindíssimos os dois textos!
Ficamos à espera desse relato. :)
Enviar um comentário