Em um restaurante vietnamita - At a Vietnamese restaurant
Esta postagem difere das demais, pois escrevo sobre o Vietnam, país onde nunca estive... e nasceu do "estômago", isto é, da descoberta de um restaurante típico vietnamita na cidade onde moramos, Hämeenlinna, sul da Finlândia. Surpreso, soube que estava ali há dois anos!
This post differs from the others, as I write about Vietnam, a country I've never been to... and it was born from the "stomach", that is, from the discovery of a typical Vietnamese restaurant in the city where we live, Hämeenlinna, South Finland. Surprised, I knew that it was there about two years!
Passava-me despercebido certamente porque ficava defronte à casa, hoje museu, onde nasceu Jean Sibelius (1865-1957), o expoente máximo da música clássica finlandesa.
It certainly went unoticed by me because it was opposite the house, now a museum, where Jean Sibelius (1865-1957), the greatest exponent of Finnish classical music, was born.
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He was a kid who just like me loved The Beatles and The Rolling Stones
He hanged around always singing the good things of America
He wasn't handsome, but anyaway there were a thousand girls after him
He used to sing Help and Ticket to Right Oh Lady Jane in Yesterday
He used to say freedom is great, but he didn't expect a letter
To take him away from his guitar he was called by America
Stop with Rolling Stones! Stop with Beatles songs!
He was sent to Vietnam to fight with Vietcongs.
rata tatata means rata tatata
He was a kid who just like me loved The Beatles and The Rolling Stones
He hanged around but he ended up in the Vietnam war
He has no long hair anymore or play his guitar but
An instrument that plays only one note ratatata
He has no friends he sees no girls but dead people on the ground
He won't come back to his country because he's dead in the Vietnam
Stop with Rolling Stones! Stop with Beatles songs!
There is no heart in his chest but two medals
Nunca em tua obra reparei. Ontem à noite, da trincheira aberta por granadas, vi teu céu estrelado. Então compreendi que me enganaram.
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Não sei se estreitarás minha mão...Vou explicar e me compreenderás:Muito curioso... neste inferno horrível encontrei uma luz para ver tua face!
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Faremos a ofensiva à meia-noite, porém não temo, sei que me vigias. O sinal! Bem, tenho que me forçar a ir. apeguei-me a ti... Quero dizer:
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Talvez esta noite chamarei à tua porta;Não fomos muito amigos...Mas... vou poder entrar se a ti eu chegar?(Deus, bem vês que estou chorando...).
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... Vês, Deus meu! Ocorre-me que já não sou tão mau...Bem, Deus, preciso ir - boa sorte é raro, porém, agora já não temo a morte.
Poema achado no bolso de um soldado morto na 1GuerraM
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Listen to me, God... I have never spoken to you... Today I want to greet you. How are you? You know, they told me you didn't exist And I, fool, believed it was true!
I never noticed your work. Last night, from the trench opened by grenades, I saw your starry sky. Then I understood that I was deceived.
I don't know if you will shake my hand... I will explain and you will understand me: Very curious... in this horrible hell I found a light to see your face!
We will launch the offensive at midnight, But I'm not afraid, I know you're watching me. The signal! Well, I have to force myself to go. I got attached to you... I want to say:
Maybe tonight I will call at your door; We weren't very friends... But... will I be able to come in if I come to you? (God, you can see that I'm crying...).
... See, my God! It occurs to me that I'm not so bad anymore... Well, God, I need to go - good luck is rare. But now I no longer fear death.
No ano de 1968, em uma banca de jornais no centro da cidade de Campos-RJ, dei com esta foto na Manchete aberta. Comprei-a e guardo o recorte até hoje, de um capelão ajudando um soldado ferido na guerra do Vietnã. Olhando para a foto foi na época um motivo de confirmar minha vocacão.
In 1968, at a newspaper stand in the center of the city of Campos-RJ, I came across this photo in the open headline magazine. I bought it and still keep the clipping to this day, of a chaplain helping a wounded soldier in the Vietnam War. Looking to it was a reason to confirm my vocation.
Meu pai e eu quando prestamos o servico militar no Nono Regimento de
Infantaria em Pelotas, RS. Ele em 1932 e eu em 1962.
My father and I, when we did our military service in the Ninth Regiment of
Infantry in Pelotas, RS. He in 1932 and I in 1962.
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Se você gostou desta postagem, recomende-a a um amigo!
If you liked this post, recommend it to a friend!
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1.523.985 = 02.07.2024
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