1985 Mercedes-Benz 300D Turbo Diesel
Footage by AcuteBronchitis Channel (c) 2010
http://www.youtube.com/user/acutebronchitis
Music by Zlatko (c) 1985-on and Darko Rundek (c) 2004
POEM by Fernando Pessoa:
"At the wheel of the 1985 Mercedes-Benz 300D Turbo Diesel on the road to Pyramid Mall"
At the wheel of the Chevrolet on the road to Sintra
Under moonlight and dream, on the deserted road,
I drive alone, slow and easy, and it seems to me
A bit - or I make myself think it so a bit -
That I'm following some other road, some other dream, some other world,
I'm going on, not with Lisbon there behind or Sintra ahead,
I'm going on, and what more is there to it than not stopping, just going on?
I'll be spending the night in Sintra, since I'm unable to spend it in Lisbon.
But when I get to Sintra, I'll be sorry I m not staying in Lisbon.
Always this restlessness, aimless, inconsequential, pointless,
Always, always, always,
The mind's excessive anguish over nothing at all,
On the Sintra highway, dream highway, life highway . . .
Responding to my subconscious motions at the wheel,
The car I borrowed moves like a greyhound with me and under me.
I smile as I think of the symbol, turning to the right.
So many borrowed things I go along with in this world!
So many borrowed things I drive on with as if they were mine!
What's been lent me, alas, is what I myself am!
To the left, a hovel - yes, a hovel - at the side of the road.
To the right, an open field and the moon in the distance.
The car, which just before seemed to offer me freedom,
Now becomes something I'm locked up in,
Something I can only control if I'm part of, if it's part of me.
Behind, to the left, there's the hovel and more than hovel.
Life must he happy there, simply because it isn't my life.
If someone saw me from the window, they'd imagine: there' s someone who's happy.
Maybe to the child gazing through the panes of the top-story window
I was, like the borrowed car, a dream, an honest-to-goodness fairy.
Maybe to the girl hearing the motor who watched from the ground-floor Kitchen window,
I'm a hit of the prince all girls dream about,
And through the panes she'll take me in sidelong till I vanish around the bend.
I'll leave dreams behind me - or is it the car that will?
I, the driver of a borrowed car, or I the borrowed car I drive?
On the road to Sintra and sad in the moonlight, with the night and fields before me,
Driving the borrowed Chevrolet, and miserable,
I lose myself on the road of things to come, vanish in the distance I am overtaking,
And out of some sudden, terrible, violent, incredible impulse,
I accelerate . . .
But I left my heart hack there on that stone pile I steered clear of,
Seeing it without seeing it,
At the door to the hovel,
My empty heart,
My unappeased heart,
My heart, more human than I am, more precise than life.
On the road to Sintra, near midnight, at the wheel in the moonlight,
On the road to Sintra, tired of my own fancies,
On the road to Sintra, each moment closer to Sintra,
On the road to Sintra, each moment farther away from myself . . .
(1928)
(Poems of Fernando Pessoa, translated by Edwin Honig and
Susan M. Brown, The City Lights Books, San Francisco, 1998)
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2:01
"Poem in a Straight Line" by Álvaro de Campos (Fernando Pessoa)by DavidYetzer266 views
Solid!
TedBunkerforce 8 months ago