Clean
The cleanest I've been
An end to the tears
And the in-between years
And the troubles I've seen

Now that I'm clean
You know what I mean
I've broken my fall
Put an end to it all
I've changed my routine
Now I'm clean

I don't understand
What destiny's planned
I'm starting to grasp
What is in my own hands
I don't claim to know
Where my holiness goes
I just know that I like
What is starting to show

Sometimes

As years go by
All the feelings inside
Twist and they turn
As they ride with the tide
I don't advise
And I don't criticise
I just know what I like
With my own eyes

Sometimes...

Where were you when I fell from grace
A frozen heart an empty space

Something's changed and it's in your eyes
Please don't speak you'll only lie

I found treasure not where I thought
Peace of mind can't be bought
Still I believe

Just hang on
Suffer well
Sometimes it's hard
It's hard to tell

An angel led me when I was blind
I said take me back I've changed my mind
Now I believe

From the blackest room I was torn
You called my name my love was born
So I believe

Just hang on
Suffer well
Sometimes it's hard
It's hard to tell

"In the year of the Lord
The word became flesh
But our bodies now
Will bleed as before
Nothing has changed (nothing has changed)
Since the late sixties
We all must carry
Rosemary's baby
Helter skelter
On the surface of the Moon
A heart of darkness
Let it bleed
Let it bleed
Inside yourself
For your father
All the way alive
Inside Golden Gate
There used to be a house
At 6114 California St."
Helter skelter

A Klee painting named Angelus Novus shows an angel looking as though he is about to move away from something he is fixedly contemplating. His eyes are staring, his mouth is open, his wings are spread. This is how one pictures the angel of history. His face is turned toward the past. Where we perceive a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurls it in front of his feet. The angel would like to stay, awaken the dead, and make whole what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing from Paradise; it has got caught in his wings with such violence that the angel can no longer close them. The storm irresistibly propels him into the future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows skyward. This storm is what we call progress.-Walter Benjamin.

Quadro, Angelus Novus, de Klee. 

Conheci os Ulver em 1995, por aí. Primeiro "tocavam" um Black Metal cru mas já com alguns elementos inovadores, como as vozes limpas e os sons "ambientais", gravados em florestas norueguesas. Mais tarde, estando fartos do "género" pelo qual ficaram originalmente conhecidos, "enganaram" uma editora alemã (Century Media), exigindo um orçamento absurdo para a gravação de um álbum inimaginável, tendo em conta os álbuns anteriores, e herético para muitos dos seus fãs. Porém, esse álbum, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (inspirado na obra homónima de William Blake) inaugurou o novo género "Ulveriano", abrindo a porta a muitos outros grupos, derrubando outros tantos tabus. 

Os velhos Ulver, como os conheci (álbum, Bergtatt). 

Segundo os especialistas da "poda", a composição musical "mais perfeita" para piano/cravo. Famosa, também, por surgir numa das cenas, mais emblemáticas, do icónico filme, O Silêncio dos Inocentes. 

If we could see tomorrow, what of your plans?

No one can live in sorrow, ask all your friends

Times that you took in stride, they're back in demand

I was the one who was washing blood off your hands

Don't you cry tonight

I still love you, baby

Don't you cry tonight

Don't you cry tonight

There's a heaven above you baby

And don't you cry tonight

I know the things you wanted, they're not what you have

With all the people talking, it's driving you mad

If I was standing by you, how would you feel

Knowing your love's decided, and all love is real?

Don't you cry tonight

I still love you, baby

Don't you cry tonight

Don't you cry tonight

There's a heaven above you baby

And don't you cry tonight

I thought I could live in your world

As years all went by, with all the voices I've heard

Something has died

And when you're in need of someone, my heart won't deny you

So many seem so lonely with no one left to cry to, baby

Don't you cry tonight

I still love you, baby

Don't you cry tonight

Don't you cry tonight

There's a heaven above you baby

And don't you cry tonight

Don't you cry tonight

I still love you, baby

Don't you cry tonight

Don't you cry tonight

There's a heaven above you baby

And don't you cry tonight

What were all those dreams we shared

those many years ago,

What were all those plans we made,

now left beside the road.

Behind us in the road.

More than friends, I always pledge,  

cause friends, they come and go.

People change as does everything.

I wanted to grow old.

Just want to grow old.

Slide on next to me, 

I'm just a human being.

I will take the blame, but just the same,

this is not me, you see, believe,

I'm better than this.

Don't leave me so cold.

I'm buried beneath the stones,

I just want to hold on and know I'm worth your love,

and enough, I don't think, there's such a thing now.

It's my fault now, I've been caught,  

a sickness in my bones.

How it pains to leave you here

with the kids on your own.

Just don't let me go.

Help me see myself, 

Cause I can no longer tell,

Looking up from inside of the bottom of a well,

it's hell, I yell, but no one hears before, I disappear,

whisper in my ear.

Give me something to echo in my unknown future,

you see, my dear, the end, comes near, I'm here,

but not much longer.

Dizem que sou louco

por pensar assim

Se eu sou muito louco

por eu ser feliz

Mas louco é quem me diz

E não é feliz, não é feliz

Se eles são bonitos, sou Alain Delon

Se eles são famosos, sou Napoleão

Mas louco é quem me diz

que não é feliz, não é feliz

Eu juro que é melhor

Não ser o normal

Se eu posso pensar que Deus sou eu e Brrrrr...

Se eles têm três carros, eu posso voar

Se eles rezam muito, eu já estou no céu

Mas louco é quem me diz

Que não é feliz, não é feliz

Eu juro que é melhor

Não ser o normal

Se eu posso pensar que Deus sou eu e Brrrrr...

Sim sou muito louco, não vou me curar

Já não sou o único que encontrou a paz

Mas louco é quem me diz

E não é feliz

Eu sou feliz

Whatsoever I've feared has come to life

Whatsoever I've fought off became my life

Just when everyday seemed to greet me with a smile

Sunspots have faded and now I'm doing time

Now I'm doing time

'Cause I fell on black days

I fell on black days

Whomsoever I've cured, I've sickened now

And whomsoever I've cradled, I've put you down

I'm a search light soul they say

But I can't see it in the night

I'm only faking when I get it right

When I get it right

'Cause I fell on black days

I fell on black days

How would I know

That this could be my fate?

How would I know

That this could be my fate? Yeah

Uh, uh, uh

So what you wanted to see good

Has made you blind

And what you wanted to be yours

Has made it mine

Don't you lock up something

That you wanted to see fly

Hands are for shaking

No, not tying, no, not tying

I sure don't mind a change

I sure don't mind a change

Yeah, I sure don't mind, sure don't mind a change

I sure don't mind a change

'Cause I fell on black days

I fell on black days

How would I know

That this could be my fate?

How would I know

That this could be my fate?

How would I know

That this could be my fate?

How would I know

That this could be my fate?

I sure don't mind a change

«A esperança tem de ser colhida na devida hora.»

Miguel Torga, Vindima (1945), p. 64

(Quanto mais cedo, melhor).

A esperança é como aqueles vinhos comprados, ou oferecidos, que de tão bons ficam guardados à espera de adequada e solene ocasião. Tardando, acabam esquecidos, estragados, não bebidos. Assim é, na prática, a esperança.

När jag tänker på den ständiga resan genom livet
När det alltid känns som höst
Då vänder sig vinden sakta mot norr
Och blommorna dör
Det faller regn i mina drömmar

Jag måste resa igen och leta efter tröst
Jag måste leta igen efter ömhetens röst
Jag måste resa igen till nästa höst
Den ständiga resan till nästa höst

När jag vandrar på den steniga vägen genom livet
När det känns som jag bar på en sorg
Då gömmer sig solen sakta i moln
Och ordet är adjö
Snart faller snö i mina drömmar

Jag måste resa igen och leta efter tröst
Jag måste leta igen efter ömhetens röst
Jag måste resa igen till nästa höst
Den ständiga resan till nästa höst
Oooo den ständiga resan till nästa höst

-------------------------------------------------------

When I think of the perpetual journey through life
When it always feels like autumn
The wind moves slowly to the north
And the flowers die
Rain falls in my dreams

I must travel again and search for comfort
I must search again for the voice of tenderness
I must travel again to next autumn
The perpetual journey to next autumn

When I wander on the stony road through life
When it felt like I carried a sorrow
Then the sun hides slowly in the clouds
and the word is goodbye
Soon the snow falls in my dreams

I must travel again and search for comfort
I must search again for the voice of tenderness
I must travel again to next autumn
The perpetual journey to next autumn
Oooo the perpetual journey to next autumn

Letra: Marie Fredriksson (1958-2019)

Ouvindo :

"Pago os meus impostos, separo o lixo, já não vejo televisão há cinco meses, todos os dias rezo pelo menos duas horas com um livro nos joelhos, nunca falho uma visita à família, utilizo sempre os transportes públicos, raramente me esqueço de deixar água fresca no prato do gato, tento ser correcto com os meus vizinhos e não cuspo na sombra dos outros. Já não me lembro se o médico me disse ser esta receita a indicada para salvar o mundo ou apenas ser feliz. Seja como for, não estou a ver resultado nenhum"

Poema de José Miguel Silva e Adília Lopes. 

Música de "A Naifa". 

Lendo :

"Não levantava ondas, não gostava de sobressaltos. Vivia para ter o seu sossego. Trabalhava há vinte anos na seguradora na mesma função. Nunca progrediu, por ser visto como cumpridor e eficaz mas pouco provido de rasgo, que é o mesmo que dizer sem capacidade de puxar o tapete aos colegas, incapaz de engraxar as chefias e sem jeito para se impor entre os demais". (continua) 

De Isabel Paulus, do Blogue Comezinhas