Him #1

Joan Sloan
A cena de Frankie e Johnny
Da primeira peça de E.E. Cummings, HIM, 1928

Um extracto de grande beleza, em que um profundo amor heterossexual se funde com uma mistura andrógina de Him and Me, uma espiritual (e também infantil) fusão:

HIM: I feel that it's very dark.
ME: Do you--feel?
HIM: Terribly dark.
ME: Are you a little afraid of the dark?
HIM: I've always been. (The room darkens rapidly) May I sit beside you?
ME: If you don't very much mind. (He does so)
HIM: A hand. Accurate and incredible.
ME (To herself): The dark is so many corners--
HIM: Here life is, moves; faintly. A wrist. The faint throb of blood, precise, miraculous.
ME (As before): --so many dolls, who move--
HIM: Curve. And they talk of dying! The blood delicately descending and ascending: making an arm. Being an arm. The warm flesh, the dim slender flesh filled with life, slenderer than a miracle, frailer.
ME (As before): --by Themselves.
HIM: These are the shoulders through which fell the world. The dangerous shoulders of Eve, in god's entire garden newly strolling. How young they are! They are shy, shyest, birdlike. Not shoulders, but young alert birds. (The figures of ME and HIM are almost invisible)
ME (Almost inaudibly): Darker.
HIM: A distinct throat. Which breathes. A head: small, smaller than a flower. With eyes and with lips. Lips more slender than light; a smile how carefully and slowly made, a smile made entirely of dream. Eyes deeper than Spring. Eyes darker than Spring, more new.
ME (To herself): We must go very carefully...
HIM: These, these are the further miracles--
ME (Almost inaudibly):...gradually...
HIM: --the breasts. Thighs. The All which is beyond comprehension--the All which is perpetually discovered, yet undiscovered: sexual, sweet, Alive!

é claro que agora já conhecem o Cabo dos Ventos!

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