Solituds

'Hoppera',  by composer John Musto and librettist Mark Campbell.
Performed by musicians from the University of Maryland’s Opera Studio

L'exposició d'Edward Hopper a punt de despenjar-se dels murs del Thyssen i jo encara sense haver fet la maleta per anar a veure-la. Revise la meua agenda: tinc un munt de revisions mèdiques acumulades en aquestes pròximes setmanes (i una por inconfessable adherida a cadascuna d'elles). 

Repasse les galeries d'imatges de Hopper a Internet i se m'encull el cor amb tanta solitud...





Alce els ulls mentres redacte aquest post: una altra figura a l'altra banda de la taula, connectada amb una altra realitat interior, distant... Silencis encavallats apenes en una finíssima i fràgil línia d'intersecció de dos mons immensos que s'escampen cap a un infinit difús i llunyà, més enllà d'aquestes quatre parets... 




Ahir vaig recollir còpia de la meua història clínica a l'hospital: 

- Data d'ingrés?
- 12 de gener del 93.
- Última intervenció? 
- 13 d'octubre del 2010...

Dos punts immensament distants, un paréntesi que s'obri i es tanca abraçant vides feliçment arribades, d'altres amargament perdudes, gojos i temors, dolors i anestesia, alegries i tristors, esperances, angoixes, molts silencis, nits i dies, vigílies, insommni, i molta solitud...

El món, la vida, dins d'una habitació... Dins i fora... Llums i ombres...

Room in New York, 1940, E. Hopper

Misunderstandings... Desencontres

I.

My dear impulsive darling 

I suspect my letter got to you too late
And it's really just a silly fragment of paper
But it means so much to those who wait
All the suffering days and nights till I dare dream again
There you suddenly stand and I'll be damned if you
didn't disappear with the dawn

Hours pass and darkness comes
Soon I will close my eyes
Will you return if you don't reply
You'll be taking my life in your hands
You'll be taking my life in your hands
Taking my life in your hands

I don't know why my dearest darling
I can't tell you how I feel when you are near
When I see you have returned my letters unopened
I will tear them up, your voice ringing in my ears
But you're kidding yourself if you think this
correspondence will end
I can always pretend words I don't have the courage to send
Reach you

II.

It won't do
to dream of caramel,
to think of cinnamon
and long for you.

It won't do
to stir a deep desire,
to fan a hidden fire
that can never burn true.

I know your name,
I know your skin,
I know the way
these things begin;

But I don't know
how I would live with myself,
what I'd forgive of myself
if you don't go.

So goodbye,
sweet appetite,
no single bite
could satisfy...

I know your name,
I know your skin,
I know the way
these things begin;

But I don't know
what I would give of myself,
how I would live with myself
if you don't go.

It won't do
to dream of caramel,
to think of cinnamon
and long for you.

A Small Blue Thing...

Today I am
A small blue thing
Like a marble
Or an eye

With my knees against my mouth
I am perfectly round
I am watching you

I am cold against your skin
You are perfectly reflected
I am lost inside your pocket
I am lost against
Your fingers

I am falling down the stairs
I am skipping on the sidewalk
I am thrown against the sky

I am raining down in pieces
I am scattering like light
Scattering like light
Scattering like light

Today I am
A small blue thing
Made of china
Made of glass

I am cool and smooth and curious
I never blink
I am turning in your hand
Turning in your hand
Small blue thing


Single Release : 1985
Lyrics : Suzanne Vega
Copyright : © 1985 Waifersongs Ltd. / AGF Music Ltd.
Album : Suzanne Vega