Sempre que morria alguém da família a nossa avó não nos deixava ligar a televisão, nem o rádio. Hoje de facto não é dia para imagens e canções. Por isso aqui seguem as “sete palavras ao túmulo”.
1- Traição
Das relações injustas, os frutos são mortais. Se não te serve o carapuço, não te esqueças, ao menos do canto matutino do galo.
Bom Marley e The Wailers – Who The Cap Fit
Man to man is so unjust, children
You don’t know who to trust
Your worst enemy could be your best friend
And your best friend your worst enemy
Some will eat and drink with you
Then behind them su-su ‘pon you
Only your friend know your secrets
So only he could reveal it
And who the cap fit Let them wear it
And who the cap fit Let them wear it
Said I throw me corn (throw me corn)
Me no call no fowl (me no call no fowl)
I saying Cok-cok-cok (Cok-cok-cok)
Cluck-cluck-cluck (Cluck-cluck-cluck)Ay
Some will hate you, pretend they love you now
Then behind they try to eliminate you
But who Jah bless, no one curse
Thank God
We’re past the worse
Hypocrites and parasites
Will come up and take a bite
And if your night should turn to day
A lot of people would run away
And who the cap fit
Let them wear it
Who the cap fit
Let them wear it
And then I’m gonna throw me corn (throw me corn)
And then I’m gonna call no fowl (call no fowl)
And then I’m gonna say Cok-cok-cok (Cok-cok-cok)
Cluck-cluck-cluck (Cluck-cluck-cluck)
Some will eat and drink with you
Then behind them su-su ‘pon you (su-su ‘pon you)
And if night should turn to day
A lot of people will run away
the cap fit
Let them wear it
And who the cap fit
Let them wear it
Throw me corn (Throw me corn)
Me no call no fowl (me no call no fowl)
I saying cok-cok-cok (cok-cok-cok)
Cluck-cluck-cluck (Cluck-cluck-cluck)
I gotta cok-cok-cok (cok-cok-cok)
Cluck-cluck-cluck
2- Lágrimas
Não ganhei culpa, perdi algo. Essa é a virtualidade do pecado. Por isso choro aos pés da montanha. De onde me virá o auxílio?
Sibylle Baier -I Lost Something in the Hills
Every time I shed tears
In the last past years
When I pass through the hills
Oh, what images return
Oh, I yearn
For the roots of the woods
That origin of all my strong and strange moods
I lost something in the hills
I lost something in the hills
I grew up in declivities
Others grow up in cities
Where first love and soul takes rise
There where times in my life
When I felt mad and deprived
And only the slopes gave me hope
When I pass through the leg high grass, I shall die
Under the jasmine, I shall die
In the elder tree
I need not try to prepare for a new coming day
Where is it that fills the deepness I feel?
You will say I’m not Robin the Hood
But how could I hide from top to food
That I lost something in the hills
I lost something in the hills
Oh, I lost something in the hills
Now I lean on my window sill
And I cry, though it’s silly
And I’m dreaming of off and away
Oh, I know further west these hills exist
Marked by apple trees
Marked by a straight brook
That leads me wherever I want it to
Well I lost something in the hills
I lost something in the hills
Oh, I lost something in the hills
3 – Morte
Um homem não se mede aos palmos, nem pelas terras que possui.
Chico Buarque – Funeral de um Lavrador, Tema para Morte e Vida Severina
Esta cova em que estás, com palmos medida
É a conta menor que tiraste em vida
É de bom tamanho, nem largo, nem fundo
É a parte que te cabe deste latifúndio
Não é cova grande, é cova medida
É a terra que querias ver dividida
É uma cova grande pra teu pouco defunto
Mas estarás mais ancho que estavas no mundo
É uma cova grande pra teu defunto parco
Porém mais que no mundo, te sentirás largo
É uma cova grande pra tua carne pouca
Mas à terra dada não se abre a boca
É a conta menor que tiraste em vida
É a parte que te cabe deste latifúndio
(É a terra que querias ver dividida)
Estarás mais ancho que estavas no mundo
Mas à terra dada não se abre a boca
4 – Carpir
(latim carpo, -ere, colher, arrancar, separar); verbo transitivo; 1. Prantear, chorar. 2. Mondar. 3. Colher, arrancar. verbo intransitivo 4. Chorar. verbo pronominal; 5. Lamentar-se. 6. Arrancar-se os cabelos (em sinal de dor).
Robbie Basho – Orphan’s Lament
Born for love and nothing more
Given away ’cause we was poor
Will you wait, will you wait for me?
My hair was black and my eyes was bright
Never gave pleasure to my parent’s sight
Will you wait, will you wait for me?
I’ll be waiting by the river my love
I’ll be waiting by the trees
Will you wait, will you wait for me?
My face was brow and my hair was long
Cut my hair, hushed my song
Will you wait, will you wait for me?
All my life I’ve been forced to roam
Never had a place to call my own
Will you wait, will you wait for me?
5 – Sinal
Esperar que sejam “enxugadas as lágrimas de todos os olhos”. Não temos provas, apenas os sinais, pressão arterial, desde dentro.
Antony & The Johnsons – Pressing On
Well I’m pressing on
Yes, I’m pressing on
Well I’m pressing on
To the higher calling of my Lord.
Many try to stop me, shake me up in my mind,
Say, “Prove to me that He is Lord, show me a sign.”
What kind of sign they need when it all come from within,
When what’s lost has been found, what’s to come has already been?
Well I’m pressing on
Yes, I’m pressing on
Well I’m pressing on
To the higher calling of my Lord.
Shake the dust off of your feet, don’t look back.
Nothing now can hold you down, nothing that you lack.
Temptation’s not an easy thing, Adam given the devil reign
Because he sinned I got no choice, it run in my vein.
Well I’m pressing on
Yes, I’m pressing on
Well I’m pressing on
To the higher calling of my Lord.
6 – Sangue
Gavin Bryars, em 1971 enquanto gravava em Londres um documentário sobre os sem-abrigo daquela cidade, encontrou este pedaço de música. Uma canção trauteada por um anónimo habitante daquelas ruas. Em estúdio, percebeu que aquela era de facto a afinação exata da música original. São 26 minutos, para dar tempo a que nos convençamos disto.
Gavin Bryars,- Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet
Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet
7 – Vi
O verdadeiro cego é aquele que olha para onde não há nada para ver.
Mas Ysa – Look Up
Show me what, show me what
Show me what love
Say that you’re leaving,
And I wanna know where you run
You march these seasons two times
But you live in my mind
I don’t keep live
It’s the grace that you’re giving
I, I wanna know when you’re done
Always lookin’, always lookin’, always lookin’ up
It’s the grace that you’re giving
And I, I wanna know when you’re done!
When you look up, what you’re seeing?
Share it with me, don’t bother
Your ache, your heart for mine
Who’s the work in the making changes?
I’m not working, no making changes
It’s the grace that you give in
And I, I hurt you once before the sun
Loved one, someone
Show me what, show me what
Show me what love
It’s the grace that you’re giving
And I, I wanna know when you’re done!
8 – Extra
É verdade Tiago, amanhã a tabuada será outra!
Tiago Guillul – Outra Tabuada
A Playlist do João Sarmento no Spotify
* Os jesuítas em Portugal assumem a gestão editorial do Ponto SJ, mas os textos de opinião vinculam apenas os seus autores.
