SOLIDY ETERNITY

***O texto Eternidade sólida foi pensado em língua portuguesa, inspirado na leitura do conto THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE, de Oscar Wilde. Entretanto, senti vontade de colocar o texto de minha autoria em língua inglesa.

*Texto revisado pelo Professor e intérprete da oralidade em língua inglesa, Mestrando em Educação, ROBERTO CARLOS BASTOS DA PAIXÃO.

SOLID ETERNITY

I want to tell you these things and many others that will remain in the eternal corners of the universe, which will be lost inside unknown gales, which will forever be sunk by the vagaries of life. You should learn that we’ll never meet again. This is the one and only time we get together. This is the event that brings us up to the intersection and it will not be repeated. This is a gift the Creator gave us (we know this), ineffable, supreme and irreplaceable. I feel when we talk to one another trhough minds and thoughts. I hear your voice as you listen to mine. I feel the wires of your hair in my hands, the softness of your fingers intertwined with mine. I feel your eyes within mine, and I scrutinize the invitation of your arms. I notice when you get to walk beside me, quiet and thoughtfully. So you hold me. No, you may never fear, no regrets. Don’t worry about anything, don’t feel guilty. You didn’t invent love. Also you do not know how all of this happened, where it came from, how it was generated. I do not know which door you came through. There was a dark area, carefully camouflaged. There were only shadows, black, total darkness. It was absurd, improbable, zero, nothingness, the void, the turbulence of the stars. It is as the matrix of the matrix. A tiny slit sucked and pulled you inside, then the door closed to the solid eternity. So it was this unknown space that became the Paradise Gardens, Eden, the utopian and the ideal that does not belong to the wretched human being. This is the key that allows knowing the sin, that makes someone dares to violate a secret. It also is a perfect translation of the apple tree. No, you do not have to apologize. You do not have to recognize or admit. We are experiencing the initial chemistry, the quantum exaggeration, the song of ourselves, we are inconstancy. We are the sacrifice and the last second before the cliff, the echo reverberating inside the valley, the bottom of the bottom of the deepest cliff. We are the atom. We are the last act. Let your conscience follow smoothly as petals of noblest roses of nature. Let your breathing be as an angel breathing. Follow your road and, when facing your journey, you may try to edify your church. Time passes, also passes the waters of the seas and rivers. The flight of summer birds crosses the air without footprints. Thoughts go through the cold earth. The rainwater drains and disappears. Dew drops reflect the morning star. If you cried someday, looking at festive night with the stars bright, you may know that these stars are your tears. You must forgive me for having faltered as guardian of my being. I slept and dozed and I also have ceased wakefulness. We are not sure about these things, how they come to happen, and if we were sure then all the enchantment would be lost. The secret that inhabits the bud of a rose should not exist. It would be common, imperfect, human and perishable. It would not exist within me neither within you a divine and impenetrable particle. It is not meat more important than the divinitude. Completeness comes from the impossible and from the victory over nothing. You created these towering giants as desperate way of loving. Perhaps we should fly letting hands free, free as the spirit of the mysteries, there will be no more incidents and gnashing of teeth; or perhaps the sea should contain enough redeeming salt. This message is representative of the absolute impotence of the words and letters, drawing and innocuous arbitrary signs. This message is the opposite of itself, unable, rude, inefficient, and ineffective. It is the mismatch of the spheres, the disordering _ unquenchable chaos _ the implausible, the insoluble. We are the frayed, the unspeakable and the most serious torpor. This is the profile of the absolute beginning, the origin of the concept of origin. It belongs to where everything was right there, where someone could never evade and got fragmented. Therefore I expect the principle to the unexpected danger and caution. Perhaps we get undressed the original mantle and remove the sandals of the beginning eras. So it would be consistent the parts of the cosmic toy. I put poetry under iron because she dares to cross in front of me. I incinerate the words because they do not mean at all. It’s time to devolve peace to you because I want to be innocent. It’s time to devolve vertigo to you. It’s time to devolve everything to you…