José
Autor: Daiane Repula | Publicado: 2013-02-03T15:51:00-02:00



&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;E agora, José?&nbsp;


&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; A festa acabou,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; a luz apagou,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o povo sumiu,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; a noite esfriou,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; e agora, José?&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; e agora, você?&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; você que é sem nome,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; que zomba dos outros,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; você que faz versos,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; que ama, protesta?&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; e agora, José?



&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Está sem mulher,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; está sem discurso,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; está sem carinho,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; já não pode beber,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; já não pode fumar,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; cuspir já não pode,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; a noite esfriou,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o dia não veio,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o bonde não veio,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o riso não veio&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; não veio a utopia&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; e tudo acabou&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; e tudo fugiu&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; e tudo mofou,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; e agora, José?



&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; E agora, José?&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Sua doce palavra,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; seu instante de febre,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; sua gula e jejum,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; sua biblioteca,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; sua lavra de ouro,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; seu terno de vidro,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; sua incoerência,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; seu ódio - e agora?



&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Com a chave na mão&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; quer abrir a porta,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; não existe porta;&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; quer morrer no mar,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; mas o mar secou;&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; quer ir para Minas,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Minas não há mais.&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; José, e agora?



&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Se você gritasse,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; se você gemesse,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; se você tocasse&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; a valsa vienense,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; se você dormisse,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; se você cansasse,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; se você morresse...&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Mas você não morre,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; você é duro, José!



&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Sozinho no escuro&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; qual bicho-do-mato,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; sem teogonia,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; sem parede nua&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; para se encostar,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; sem cavalo preto&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; que fuja a galope,&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; você marcha, José!&nbsp;

&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; José, para onde?


Carlos Drummond de Andrade