The 2017 Inventarium

img_1998

I called my visualizing list where I project my future — Inventarium. Every new year, for me, is a new opportunity for renovating my hopes and dreams. So my longings begin in wanting to cherish life and myself more. I want to become more lighter/pure, I want to believe that I am able, I want to congratulate myself instead of finding mistakes in every step that I take. I want to fulfill my existence with faith instead of disbelief — due to this reason, I will write the many lists as I can and I will force myself to reread them — over and over again — until I come to believe that all these griefs were just a metamorphosis: a prologue for the better days. 

Framing Memories

Monday, 24th of October 2016

Dear Diary,

I am always very surprised with myself in the early hours of the morning, everything is so unfamiliar and yet, how many times was I born to live in this insipid place? With my eyes closed, I open the doors that lead me to the olden and shabby corridors which once I was verily acquainted, endless corridors that used to lead me to wonderful and secret places. I close my eyes to listen the distant Schubert and frame these memories in a secure place that I call heart.

 

Rain

Saturday, 23th of October 2016

Dear Diary,

while the rain falls, a curtain of tears blurs the distant landscape: are the skies washing away the sorrows of this world? The howling wind makes all the trees dance, a thunder grumbles hight and in my hands I’m just holding a tea. I feel safe behind of this pear-lace window and in my heart I just wish that life was only this moment.

 

dsc_0003

 

Find Me

Dear Diary,

one day, I will return to the place that I verily belong and leave all these dead leaves and broken windows behind. I will gave my bonds to the earth, let it consume the heaviness that I carry on my shoulders and, in this moment, I will no longer fear the darkness of the night. I will fall asleep to never wake up and let the earth devour me till dust — so can I, for once, feel something. Only my soul shall remain beyond reproach of these endless loudly voices. One day, it will be the end and I will become a sylph to be nothing more than a rarefy air.

dsc_0065dsc_0080dsc_0067img_7629dsc_0075

For C.W.B

dsc_0351

 

For C.W.B

I.
Let us live in a lull of the long winter winds
Where the shy, silver-antlered reindeer go
On dainty hoofs with their white rabbit friends
Amidst the delicate flowering snow.

All of our thoughts will be fairer than doves.
We will live upon wedding-cake frosted with sleet.
We will build us a house from two red tablecloths
And wear scarlet mittens on both hands and feet.

II.
Let us live in the land of the whispering trees;
Alder and aspen and popular and birch;
Singing our prayers in a pale, sea-green breeze
With star-flower rosaries and moss blankets for church.

All of our dreams will be clearer than glass,
Clad in the water or sun as you wish,
We will watch the white feet of the young morning pass,
And dine upon honey and small shiny fish.

III.
Let us live where the twilight lives after dark,
In the deep drowsy blue, let us make a home.
Let us meet in the cool evening grass with a stork,
And a whistle of willow played by a gnome.

Half-asleep, half-awake, we shall hear, we shall know
The soft “Miserere” the wood-swallow tolls,
We will wander away where the wild raspberries grow,
And eat them for tea from two lily-white bowls.

A poem from Elisabeth Bishop

Para C.W.B

I

Vivamos na acalmia dos longos ventos de inverno

onde a tímida rena de chifres prateados anda

sobre delicadas patas com os seus amigos coelhos brancos

pelo meio da fina e florescente neve.

Todos os nossos pensamentos serão mais delicados que pombas.

Viveremos sobre um bolo de noiva coberto de saraiva.

Construiremos a nossa casa com duas toalhas de mesa vermelhas.

E usaremos mitenes escarlates nas mãos e nos pés.

II

Vivamos no país das árvores sussurrantes,

o amieiro e a aia e o choupo e o vidoeiro,

entoando preces através de uma brisa pálida, verde-mar,

num templo de rosários de flores e cantos de musgo.

Todos os nossos sonhos serão mais límpidos que vidro.

Vestidos de água ou de sol, como desejares,

veremos passar os brancos pés da manhã jovem

e jantaremos mel e pequeno peixes cintilantes.

III

Vivamos onde o crepúsculo vive depois do anoitecer,

no profundo, sonolento azul, façamos a nossa casa.

Encontremo-nos na erva fresca da tardinha com uma cegonha

e um assobio de salgueiro, tocado por um gnomo.

Meio adormecidos, meio despertos, ouviremos, conheceremos

o suave “Miserere” que a andorinha do bosque toca.

Vaguearemos até onde crescem as framboesas silvestres

e comê-las-emos ao chá e duas taças brancas com lírios.

Um poema de Elisabeth Bishop