estradas perdidas

Atrás de casa, encoberta por tufos de erva daninha, silvas e bidões abandonados, o comboio de janelas iluminadas vinha das Quintãs e silvou depois do túnel em curva, em direcção a Aveiro. Ali ao lado há uma estrada, a minha primeira estrada. Mulheres e homens cruzam-na impelindo teimosamente os pedais das bicicletas. Junto à vitrine de um pronto-a-vestir lê-se "Modas Katita". De uma taberna, saem dois homens que se dirigem para duas Famel-Zundapp. Estrada perdida.

2004-11-09

Regresso a casa

Cross Of Flowers
de Jeffrey Foucault (clicar no título para aceder ao seu site)


There's a cross of flowers at the roadside
Where some fool bought it two years back
There's an orchard gone to hell
Beside a burned out one room shack
There's a thousand sparrows falling
In a thousand shades of black
I'm coming home
There's a steeple on the skyline
Like a single iron nail
There's a windmill doing nothing
And a low moan on the rails
Where the coal train takes the corner
And the light begins to fail
I'm coming home
I'm coming home
There's a red barn in the half light
And a white frost on the shade
And in the bars down off the main drag
They're drinking down what they got paid
And I wonder in all my leaving
If I ever could have stayed
I'm coming home
There's a junked out car in the tall grass
It ain't ever gonna sell
And Jimmy's raising daughters
And Jack's out raising hell
And I always said I loved you
I never said I loved you
well I'm coming home
I'm coming home
I'm coming home