sábado, fevereiro 02, 2013

Ele1 frequentou o seminário, tendo por passatempo a escrita de poemas imbuídos de uma transbordante ternura sob o pseudónimo Soselo, era admirador de Shakespeare e Goethe, recitava Walt Whitman de cor. Tinha uma biblioteca de 20 000 livros, muitos com anotações suas. Aos dezassete anos, escreveu: Move tirelessly Do not hang your head Scatter the mist of the clouds The Lord's Providence is great. Gently smile at the earth Stretched out beneath you; Sing a lullaby to the glacier Strung down from the heavens. Know for certain that once Struck down to the ground, an oppressed man Strives again to reach the pure mountain, When exalted by hope. So, lovely moon, as before Glimmer through the clouds; Pleasantly in the azure vault Make your beams play. But I shall undo my vest And thrust out my chest to the moon, With outstretched arms, I shall revere The spreader of light upon the earth! Ele2 era vegetariano, um defensor dos direitos dos animais numa época em que isso era uma extravagância (sendo extremamente afectuoso com o seu cão, tendo até o retratado), pintor, tinha fundas preocupações ecológicas («When man attempts to rebel against the iron law of Nature, he comes into struggle with the principles to which he himself owes his existence as a man. And so his action against Nature must lead to his own doom») e escritos sobre o capitalismo enquanto regime de opressão do trabalho pelo capital. Tinha uma biblioteca com 16 300 livros. Dom Quixote, A Cabana do Pai Tomás, Robinson Crusoé, As Viagens de Gulliver eram as suas obras de eleição. A sua ligação à mãe, que amava muito, levou-a escrever-lhe o seguinte poema aos trinta e quatro anos: The Mother When your mother has grown older, When her dear, faithful eyes no longer see life as they once did, When her feet, grown tired, No longer want to carry her as she walks - Then lend her your arm in support, Escort her with happy pleasure. The hour will come when, weeping, you Must accompany her on her final walk. And if she asks you something, Then give her an answer. And if she asks again, then speak! And if she asks yet again, respond to her, Not impatiently, but with gentle calm. And if she cannot understand you properly Explain all to her happily. The hour will come, the bitter hour, When her mouth asks for nothing more Pintou: O primeiro chamava-se Estaline. O segundo, Adolf Hitler.

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