beckett

faria hoje cem anos.

passei boa parte da tarde à procura de "Godot"
(onde terei guardado?)
como não encontrei, fui lá para fora passear, "à espera"
(de me lembrar onde terei guardado?)


está uma lua cheia enorme na janela da sala
(há umas horas atrás era ainda maior e amarela)

nada para fazer...


segue um excerto
(onde terei guardado?)
em inglês, do 1º acto

de


Waiting for Godot


A country road. A tree.

Evening.

Estragon, sitting on a low mound, is trying to take off his boot. He pulls at it with both hands, panting.

He gives up, exhausted, rests, tries again.
As before.
Enter Vladimir.

ESTRAGON:
(giving up again). Nothing to be done.

VLADIMIR:
(advancing with short, stiff strides, legs wide apart). I'm beginning to come round to that opinion. All my life I've tried to put it from me, saying Vladimir, be reasonable, you haven't yet tried everything. And I resumed the struggle. (He broods, musing on the struggle. Turning to Estragon.) So there you are again.

ESTRAGON:
Am I?

VLADIMIR:
I'm glad to see you back. I thought you were gone forever.

ESTRAGON:
Me too.

VLADIMIR:
Together again at last! We'll have to celebrate this. But how? (He reflects.) Get up till I embrace you.

ESTRAGON:
(irritably). Not now, not now.

VLADIMIR:
(hurt, coldly). May one inquire where His Highness spent the night?

ESTRAGON:
In a ditch.

VLADIMIR:
(admiringly). A ditch! Where?

ESTRAGON:
(without gesture). Over there.

VLADIMIR:
And they didn't beat you?

ESTRAGON:
Beat me? Certainly they beat me.

VLADIMIR:
The same lot as usual?

ESTRAGON:
The same? I don't know.

VLADIMIR:
When I think of it . . . all these years . . . but for me . . . where would you be . . . (Decisively.) You'd be nothing more than a little heap of bones at the present minute, no doubt about it.

ESTRAGON:
And what of it?

VLADIMIR:
(gloomily). It's too much for one man. (Pause. Cheerfully.) On the other hand what's the good of losing heart now, that's what I say. We should have thought of it a million years ago, in the nineties.

ESTRAGON:
Ah stop blathering and help me off with this bloody thing.

VLADIMIR:
Hand in hand from the top of the Eiffel Tower, among the first. We were respectable in those days. Now it's too late. They wouldn't even let us up. (Estragon tears at his boot.) What are you doing?

ESTRAGON:
Taking off my boot. Did that never happen to you?

VLADIMIR:
Boots must be taken off every day, I'm tired telling you that. Why don't you listen to me?

ESTRAGON:
(feebly). Help me!

VLADIMIR:
It hurts?

ESTRAGON:
(angrily). Hurts! He wants to know if it hurts!

VLADIMIR:
(angrily). No one ever suffers but you. I don't count. I'd like to hear what you'd say if you had what I have.

ESTRAGON:
It hurts?

VLADIMIR:
(angrily). Hurts! He wants to know if it hurts!

ESTRAGON:
(pointing). You might button it all the same.

VLADIMIR:
(stooping). True. (He buttons his fly.) Never neglect the little things of life.

ESTRAGON:
What do you expect, you always wait till the last moment.


http://samuel-beckett.net/