This is just one of my favorite things

INTENSITY

The Horsemen

I

It was a room above the alcove

in a city renewed by junipers

And by desires...

Stripped of words,

the moments recalled;

where the tower,

lo, was in sight:

memories undaunted by sound

or flames of the amethyst,

spoke to me;

spoke to me like the preacher from…

I recall this moment staggering through the wind,

when its breath hissed at the earth;

as we leaned out of the window

in that moment when the first light

streaked, joyous, out of the unalterable street...

Then, tuned to the immanent choir of the grassland,

untangling from the sea -

Then, stripped to the last detail, from her sinewed skin,

disheveled in the light, one aria from the immaculate concertina -

before her rebirth

a tongue licked through the core of my soul

II

Strange men in dark garments

riding in slow, weary steps,

paces of a far and distant journey -

in measured gestures

The clatter of hooves on the stone of the

street; wakened from the depths of

their tombs, long dead ghosts,

memories of a carnage -

There was fear bred in that silence,

nothing triumphant in their last march

nothing triumphant where

once a plot is weaved, a rider rides

into anonymity:

what is it that they seek -

These silent riders?

Glory? Memory?

What is it that they want among those

who have fallen from their swords?

Piety? Ablution? Anonymity?

It is not enough to bury the sword

in the fold of the embrace;

nor is it wise, even prudent, to

seek meaning in past deeds

when those deeds are immortal,

or of an impure genealogy -

What do they seek in the bowel of the tide;

in that place, where Onishe,

spirit-mother, swallowed the ravishers of her children?

Graves? Graves in the tide?

III

Theirs are troubled gestures full of potent wishes.

…are those wishes -

for as they came, those riders, each

hoof in the ascent;

each eye veiled by remorse, or anger or

a forlorn thought -

for as they came, weighed down by ancient baggage,

a skin of water, a measure of wheat, some

penicillin, in case of epidemica

stretcher to fetch the dead;

an hourglass, and then the gloved idol,

the one that ordered the massacre -

who rode ahead of the light;

muttered a command: 'halt!'.

Obi Nwakanma

O navio de espelhos

O navio de espelhos
não navega cavalga

Seu mar é a floresta
que lhe serve de nível

Ao crepúsculo espelha
sol e lua nos flancos

Por isso o tempo gosta
de deitar-se com ele

Os armadores não amam
a sua rota clara

(Vista do movimento
dir-se-ia que pára)

Quando chega à cidade
nenhum cais o abriga

O seu porão traz nada
nada leva à partida

Vozes e ar pesado
é tudo o que transporta

(E no mastro espelhado
uma espécie de porta)

Seus dez mil capitães
têm o mesmo rosto

A mesma cinta escura
o mesmo grau e posto

Quando um se revolta
há dez mil insurrectos

(Como os olhos da mosca
reflectem os objectos)

E quando um deles ala
o corpo sobre os mastros
e escruta o mar do fundo

Toda a nave cavalga
(como no espaço os astros)

Do princípio do mundo
até ao fim do mundo

Mário Cesariny

SOUND:
HANS ZIMMER
Soundtrack 'BACK 'BLACK HAWK DOWN'

IMAGES:
1
From 'THE LORD OF THE RINGS'
2
Unidentified artist