Cidade
Sou um efêmero e não muito descontente cidadão de uma metrópoleque julgam moderna porque todo estilo conhecido foi excluído das mobílias e do exterior das casas bem como da planta da cidade. Aqui você não nota rastros de nenhum monumento de superstição. A moral e a língua estão reduzidas às expressões mais simples, enfim! Estes milhões de pessoas que nem têm necessidade de se conhecer levam a educação, o trabalho e a velhice de um modo tão igual que sua expectativa de vida é muitas vezes mais curta do que uma estatística louca encontrou para os povos do continente. Assim como, de minha janela, vejo novos espectros rolando pela espessa e eterna fumaça de carvão, - nossa sombra dos bosques, nossa noite de verão! - as Erínias novas, na porta da cabana que é minha pátria e meu coração, já que tudo aqui parece isto, - Morte sem lágrimas, nossa filha ativa e serva, um Amor desesperado, e um Crime bonito uivando na lama da rua.
*o blogger não respeita a métrica louca de Rimbaud
Arthur Rimbaud (imagino que seja sobre Paris)
London
I wander thro’ each charter’d street,
Near where the charter’d Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant’s cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear.
How the Chimney-sweeper’s cry
Every black'ning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier’s sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.
But most thro’ midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot’s curse
Blasts the new-born Infant’s tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.
William Blake
L.A Woman
"Well, I just got into town about an hour ago.
Took a look around see which way the wind blow,
Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows.
Are you a lucky little lady in the City of Light
Or just another lost angel?
City of Night.
City of Night.
City of Night.
City of Night.
Whoo! C'mon!"
Jim Morrison (Música do Doors)
The Lords
"The city forms - often physically, but inevitably
physically - a circle. A Game. A ring of death
with sex at its center. Drive towards outskirts
sophisticated vice and boredon, child prosti-
-tution. But in the grimy ring immediately surround-
-ing the daylight business district wxists the only
life, night life. Diseased specimens in dollar
hotels, low boearding houses, barsm pawn shops,
burlesques and brothels, in dying arcades which
never die, in streets and streets of all-night
cinemas."
Jim Morrison
Marchin To The City
"Well I'm sitting in church
In an old wooden chair
I knew nobody
Would look for me there
. . . Sorrow and pity
. . . Rule the earth and the skies
Looking for nothing
Anyone's eyes
Once I had pretty girls
Did me wrong
Now I'm marching to the city
And the road ain't long"
Bob Dylan
6th Avenue Heartache
The sirens ring, the shots ring out.
A stranger cries, he screams out loud.
I had my world, strapped against my back.
I held my hands, and never knew how to act.
And the same black line that was drawn on you was drawn on me, and now it's drawing me in.
6th Avenue Heartache.
Wallflowers (Jakob Dylan - filho de Bob Dylan)
