Claes Oldenburg, 1961
Les Luths
ah nuts! it’s boring reading French newspapers
in New York as if I were a Colonial waiting for my gin
somewhere beyond this roof a jet is making a sketch of the sky
where is Gary Snyder I wonder if he’s reading under a dwarf pine
stretched out so his book and his head fit under the lowest branch
while the sun of the Orient rolls calmly not getting through to him
not caring particularly because the light in Japan respects poets
while in Paris Monsieur Martroy and his brother Jean the poet
are reading a piece by Matthieu Galey and preparing to send a pneu
everybody here is running around after dull pleasantries and
wondering if The Hotel Wently Poems is as great as I say it is
and I am feeling particularly testy at being separated from
the one I love by most dreary of practical exigencies money
when I want only to lean on my elbow and stare into space feeling
the one warm beautiful thing in the world breathing upon my right rib
what are lutes they make ugly twangs and rest on knees in cafés
I want to her only your light voice running on about Florida
as we pass the changing traffic light and buy grapes for wherever
we will end up praising the mattressless sleigh-bed and the
Mexican egg and the clock that will not make me know
how to leave you
ah nuts! it’s boring reading French newspapers
in New York as if I were a Colonial waiting for my gin
somewhere beyond this roof a jet is making a sketch of the sky
where is Gary Snyder I wonder if he’s reading under a dwarf pine
stretched out so his book and his head fit under the lowest branch
while the sun of the Orient rolls calmly not getting through to him
not caring particularly because the light in Japan respects poets
while in Paris Monsieur Martroy and his brother Jean the poet
are reading a piece by Matthieu Galey and preparing to send a pneu
everybody here is running around after dull pleasantries and
wondering if The Hotel Wently Poems is as great as I say it is
and I am feeling particularly testy at being separated from
the one I love by most dreary of practical exigencies money
when I want only to lean on my elbow and stare into space feeling
the one warm beautiful thing in the world breathing upon my right rib
what are lutes they make ugly twangs and rest on knees in cafés
I want to her only your light voice running on about Florida
as we pass the changing traffic light and buy grapes for wherever
we will end up praising the mattressless sleigh-bed and the
Mexican egg and the clock that will not make me know
how to leave you
Frank O'Hara
Les Luths
ora bolas! é maçante ler jornais franceses
em Nova York como se eu fosse um colono a espera do meu gim
algures acima deste teto um jato faz esboços no céu
onde anda Gary Snyder imagino se ele segue lendo sob um pinho anão
frondoso assim que o livro e a cabeça dele encaixam no galho mais >baixo
enquanto o sol do oriente gira calmo sem filtrar-se até ele
sem cuidados a mais porque a luz no Japão respeita os poetas
enquanto em Paris Monsieur Martroy e seu irmão Jean o poeta
seguem lendo rimas de Matthieu Galey e preparando o envio de um >bacilo
todos por aqui correm atrás de brinquedos estúpidos e
especulam se Os Poemas do Hotel Wently é tão bom quanto eu digo >que é
e me sinto particularmente à prova por estar separado
daquele que amo pela mais lúgubre das exigências práticas dinheiro
quando só quero equilibrar-me no cotovelo e fixar o vazio a sentir
a coisa morna e mais bonita do mundo exalando em minha costela >direita
os alaúdes produzem uns zunidos feios e ficam de joelhos nos cafés
quero para ela só tua bela voz discorrendo sobre a Flórida
no que cruzamos o semáforo que comuta e compramos uvas pois >como seja
acabaremos louvando a desacolchoada cama-trenó e o
ovo mexicano e o relógio que não me vai permitir saber
como lhe deixar
Nota – “Mexican egg” – traduzido por “ovo mexicano” [penúltima linha do poema] – é uma receita apreciada nos Estados unidos à base de ovos, pimenta, tomate, queixo cheddar, cebolinha verde e salsa.
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