Liebesbrief an Ventura

A sort of love letter. Learn it by heart.


Your mother left me. She stabbed me with a knife. The blood's already dry. The woman wrecked the house. The bed, the wardrobe...She destroyed everything. She had Clotilde's face, but it wasn't her. I don't know if it was Clotilde or another woman I slept with. Vanda! Vanda! Vanda! Look at the crocodile and those huge jaws.

Ventura,

Being together again will brighten our lives for at least 30 years. I'll come back to you strong and loving. I wish I could offer you 100000 cigarettes, a dozen fancy dresses, a car, that little lava house you always dreamed of, a threepenny bouquet. But most of all, drink a bottle of good wine and think of me. Here, it's nothing but work. There are over a hundred of us now.

In Erinnerung,

Patrick

I want bedrooms for my children. And I was in such pain! Christ! Waves of pain every ten minutes. So I said, "Ow! It hurts so much!" The pains were coming twice as fast. "I can't stand it here. It hurts too much.” "Help me, darling. It hurts!"

My love,

Being together again will brighten our lives for at least 30 years. I'll come back to you strong and loving. I wish I could offer you 100000 cigarettes, a dozen fancy dresses. but most of all drink a bottle of good wine and think of me. Here, it's nothing but work. There are over a hundred of us now. Still nothing from you…I'm waiting. Every day, every minute, I learn beautiful new words for you and me alone. Still nothing from you. Some other time.

August 19, 1972.

Here, you need an iron hand in a velvet glove. No one shouts or runs or spits on the ground. It's nice and easy.

Being together again will brighten our lives for at least 30 years. I'll come back to you strong and loving. I wish I could offer you 100000 cigarettes, a dozen fancy dresses, a car, that little lava house you always dreamed of, a threepenny bouquet. But most of all, drink a bottle of good wine and think of me. Here, it's nothing but work. There are over a hundred of us now. Two days ago, for my birthday, I thought about you for a long while. Did my letter arrive safely? Still nothing from you. I'm waiting. Every day, every minute, I learn new beautiful words, just for you and me, made to fit us both, just like fine silk pajamas. Wouldn't you like that? I can only send you a letter a month. Still nothing from you. Some other time.

It's like that when you can't breathe. It scares me, I don't know why. I shake all over. She feels what I feel. Look at her face!  I often get scared building these walls. Me with a pick and cement, you with your silence, a pit so deep, it swallows you up. It hurts to see these horrors that I don't want to see.

Your lovely hair slips through my fingers like dry grass. Often, I feel weak and think

I'm going to forget you.

Texte übersetzt und collagiert aus “Juventude em Marcha” von Pedro Costa