Eu adoro esse tipo de natureza bruta que mais parece com uma obra de arte incompleta.
“At first
I was land
I lay on my back to be field
…
I did not see.
I was seen.”
Eavan Boland ‘Mother Ireland’ (Lost Land, 42-3)
— — Na poesia de Eavan Boland a pátria em si ganha linguagem e subjetividade. De fato, ela pode ser entendida como uma dona de casa deixando o lar, assim como todo e qualquer resquício de uma vida orquestrada por uma estrutura patriarcal antiquada para encontrar o seu verdadeiro eu. — —
“Now I could tell my story.
It was different
from the story told about me.”
“The spurred and booted garrisons.
The men and women
they dispossessed.
What is a colony
if not the brutal truth
that when we speak
the graves open.
And the dead walk?” (‘Witness’)
“- a picture held us captive
and we could not get outside it
for it lay in our language in the uniform
of a force that no longer existed.
Peace was the target he was aiming at,
the point at which doubt becomes senseless,
the last thing that will find a home.”
(Tulsus Paradoxus’)
Medbh McGuckian Shelmalier
— — A autora vai além da visão platônica de Boland quanto à linguagem como retórica política, acrescentando
que ela opera no nível inconsciente da ideologia. O que ela chama de as “sombras” do poder (“shadows” of power) sugere a idéia de que poder pode ser exercido pelos heróis que perderam, assim como os que ganharam
as guerras do passado. — —
“At first something like an image was there:
he had for me a pre-love which leaves
everything as it is. We do not see everything
as something, everything that is brown,
we take for granted the incorruptible
colouredness of the colour. But a light
shines on them from behind, they do not
themselves glow. As a word has only
an aroma of meaning, as the really faithful
memory is the part of a wound
that goes quiet.”
“A flame burnt up the paper
On which my gold was written,
The wind like a soul
Seeking to be born
Carried off half
Of what I was able to say.”
Medbh McGuckian On her second birthday
“The more it changed
The more it changed me into itself,
Till I regarded it as more real
Than all else, more ardent
Than love. Higher than the air
Of a dream,
A field in which I ripened
From an unmoving, continually nascent
Light into pure light.”
***
As poesias foram extraídos de:
Campbell, M. (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to Contemporary Irish Poetry, Cambridge University Press, 2003.
***
Veja também:
The Savage 
[…] Eu adoro esse tipo de natureza bruta que mais parece com uma obra de arte incompleta. "At first I was land I lay on my back to be field … I did not see. I was seen." Eavan Boland 'Mother Ireland' (Lost Land, 42-3) — — Na poesia de Eavan Boland a pátria em si ganha linguagem e subjetividade. De fato, ela pode ser entendida como uma dona de casa deixando o lar, assim como todo e qualquer resquício de uma vida orquestrada por uma estrutura patr … Read More […]