agosto 26, 2010

Stuttgart 21

Quando nos aproximámos da fronteira da Polónia com a Alemanha, as nuvens que se erguiam diante de nós, umas tombadas de encontro às outras, traziam consigo a tempestade para onde nos deslocávamos.
Silenciosa. Sem trovão nem segredo.
A estrada levou-nos por Leipzig, não por o caminho ser mais curto em termos de distância, mas por outros devaneios e um problema gritante…
Café Galão” é o nome do clube onde nos esperava o nosso cicerone, Rainer. Porquê um nome Português tão longe do mar? História antiga de ecos, sem presença física de marinheiros dessas bandas.
Hoje há um rumor estranho nas ruas de Stuttgart. Um “rumore”. Seguimos o Rainer até Stuttgart 21, a velha estação ferroviária que na calada da noite o governo decidiu destruir com um contrato injusto. 20 anos de poeira de máquinas rasgando os jardins e árvores que circundam Stuttgart 21. As pessoas afluem cada vez em maior número e são mais as rugas que a voz da juventude que aqui vêm colocar o corpo ao encontro da espada da Lei. “não são as vossas árvores, são as nossas árvores”, “não é a vossa Stuttgart 21, é a nossa Stuttgart 21”. Vigília de paixão que se vai estender através da noite. Nas grades que as forças da autoridade colocaram em torno da velha estação, o vento acaricia milhares de folhas de papel e bilhetes de amor, raiva e de despedida que os habitantes ali colocaram.
E senti um calafrio, como se me encontrasse outra vez na sombra da arcada da casa da Giulietta. Mas o coração que penduraram nos gradeamentos, é centelha do bem na fogueira do mal.
Boa sorte meus amigos, espero que vençam.
Abalados neste tumulto, o concerto de hoje que é o primeiro na Vaterland, é elixir do esquecimento para todos quantos vieram conhecer o lobo.
Obrigado Kleon, Stefanie, Rainer.
Obrigado meus bons amigos.
Obrigado Rainer.
João Rui

Stuttgart 21 - As we approached the border of Poland with Germany, the clouds that rose before us, tumbled against each other; they brought with them the storm to where we were moving. Silent. No thunder nor secret. The road led us through Leipzig, not because the path was shorter in distance, but for other musings and a glaring problem ... "Café Galão" is the name of the club where our host was waiting: Rainer. Why a Portuguese name so far from the sea? Ancient history of echoes, without the physical presence of sailor from those waves. Today there is a strange noise in the streets of Stuttgart. A "rumore". We follow Rainer to Stuttgart 21, the old railway station that in the dead of night, the government decided to destroy with an unfair contract. 20 years of dust from machines tearing up the gardens and trees surrounding Stuttgart 21. People flock in increasing numbers and it’s more wrinkles than the voice of youth who come here to put the body against the sword of the law "these are not your trees, these are our trees," it is not your Stuttgart 21, it is our Stuttgart 21". A vigil of passion that will extend through the night. The grids that the forces of authority placed around the old station, is where the wind caresses thousands of sheets of paper and love notes of anger and farewell from the people that posted them. And I felt a chill, as if I was again in the shadow of the arch of the house of Giulietta. But the heart that hangs on these railings is the spark of good in the fire of evil. Good luck my friends, I hope you win. Shaken with this turmoil, the concert today that was the first in the Vaterland is an elixir of forgetfulness to all who came to know the wolf. Thank Kleon, Stefanie, Rainer. Thank you my good friends. Thanks Rainer. Joao Rui

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