Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta Raymond Carver. Mostrar todas as mensagens
Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta Raymond Carver. Mostrar todas as mensagens

quinta-feira, 31 de janeiro de 2013

Happiness

Raymond Carver


So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.

When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.

They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.

I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.

They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.

Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.

Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.


Carver, Raymond (2000). All of Us: The Collected Poems. New York: Vintage Books. Disponível em http://plagiarist.com/poetry/7454/

terça-feira, 8 de novembro de 2011

Raymond Carver, "Fear"


Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive.
Fear of falling asleep at night.
Fear of not falling asleep.
Fear of the past rising up.
Fear of the present taking flight.
Fear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night.
Fear of electrical storms.
Fear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek!
Fear of dogs I've been told won't bite.
Fear of anxiety!
Fear of having to identify the body of a dead friend.
Fear of running out of money.
Fear of having too much, though people will not believe this.
Fear of psychological profiles.
Fear of being late and fear of arriving before anyone else.
Fear of my children's handwriting on envelopes.
Fear they'll die before I do, and I'll feel guilty.
Fear of having to live with my mother in her old age, and mine.
Fear of confusion.
Fear this day will end on an unhappy note.
Fear of waking up to find you gone.
Fear of not loving and fear of not loving enough.
Fear that what I love will prove lethal to those I love.
Fear of death.
Fear of living too long.
Fear of death.

I've said that.
Raymond Carver (2000). All of Us: The Collected Poems.
New York: Vintage Books. Retrieved on October 12th, 2011, from http://www.randomhouse.com/boldtype/1098/carver/poem.html.

Duas entrevistas com raymond Carver: http://www.iwu.edu/~jplath/carver.html