Não, não vou falar de cinema. Não, não vou falar o que achei de Watchmen. Ainda não, pelo menos. Não nesse post. E por isso precisam ser dois textos sobre o filme, para que o “oficial” possa ser escrito livre do que me faz escrever este.
Adianto: Watchmen é um filmaço, independente de qualquer outra coisa. Para os fãs dos quadrinhos, é melhor ainda. E para mim, além de ser um grande filme, foi um encontro marcado com o passado.
Meus bons amigos, onde estão? Notícias de todos, quero saber. Lendo um diário, navegando em um cargueiro, eu recuei dez anos. Voltei ao tempo em que li Watchmen pela primeira vez.
Hello darkness, my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.
“Fools” said I, “You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you.”
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.”
And whisper’d in the sounds of silence.
Escrito por Andre 
Escrito por Andre 
