Hoje vou postar a minha versão em inglês de um texto muito bacana do Luis Fernando Veríssimo, um autor que eu adoro. A sua escrita é leve e irônica, de um humor que não precisa humilhar. Um humor de situação. Bem non-sense, do jeito que eu amo. Fiz esta tradução há alguns anos e deixei arquivada no computador. Até tinha me esquecido dela. Até ontem, quando reabri a versão, consertei uns errinhos, modifiquei algumas palavras para se encaixarem melhor e hoje vou postar. O conto está publicado no livro "Comédias para se ler na escola". Sem mais delongas, senhoras e senhores, "O Recital".
The Recital
Luis Fernando Verissimo
English translation by Rita Cammarota
A
good way to start a short story is to imagine a strictly formal situation - say,
for instance, a string quartet recital-- and then unravel it like an old
pullover. So, let´s see. A string quartet recital.
The quartet enters the stage under polite clapping by
the audience. There are three men and a woman. The woman is young and pretty
and plays the viola. The three men are in morning coats. They take their places
behind the partiturs. From left side to the right: a violin, the other violin,
the viola and the cello. Let me see if I missed any detail. The cellist has a big red moustache. That
information may be important later in the story. Maybe not.
The four of them tune in their instruments. After that, silence in the air. That anxious anticipation that hangs over the start of any great concert. The last coughs are heard in the audience. The first violinist checks his peers with a discrete glimpse. They are all ready, the violinist lays the instrument under his chin and positions the bow. The recital is about to begin. At this very moment…
The four of them tune in their instruments. After that, silence in the air. That anxious anticipation that hangs over the start of any great concert. The last coughs are heard in the audience. The first violinist checks his peers with a discrete glimpse. They are all ready, the violinist lays the instrument under his chin and positions the bow. The recital is about to begin. At this very moment…
What
about “At this very moment”? What is the most unusual thing that could happen
during a string quartet recital? A herd of buffalos running through the stage
behind them? No. A herd of buffalos does pass, some people in the audience jump
off their seats and look for the emergency exits, while others are shocked and
mesmerized, but then everything goes back on track. The quartet remained still
in its place until the last buffalo was gone. They are professional musicians,
and even so, that could not possibly happen. No further information is asked or
provided. Finally the quartet starts to play. On with the Mozart .
No. Not yet. Something has to happen, like a seed of confusion, a little inconsistency.
Something that creates uneasiness and turns, slowly, step by step, into chaos.
A bat that rests on the top of the second violinist’s head during a pizzicato. No. Even better. A man with a tuba enters the
stage.
There´s rumour in the audience. What´s
that all about? The man enters, with the tuba, from the backstage. He stands by the cellist´s side. The first
violinist, as stiff as a diver who has just realized there´s no water in the
swimming pool, looks at that tuba fascinated yet horrified. What´s that? After a few moments when
the tension in the air is like a stretched violin chord, the first violinist
says:
-Please…
-What? – replies the man with a tuba,
defensively.- You´re gonna tell me I can´t play?
-What do you want, sir?
-I just want to play. You can
begin and I´ll follow up.
Some laughter from the audience. Impatient noises. Nobody notices that the
cellist looked back and when he first saw the tuba player he turned his face,
as if he could hide. The first violinist proceeds:
-Please, leave the stage.
-Why? I want to play as
well.
The first violinist stares nervously at the audience. Never in his whole career
as a quartet leader he had to face such a challenge. Once a mosquito flew into
his nose during a Vivaldi solo. But never a tuba.
-Please. This is a string quartet
recital. We´re playing Mozart. There´s no piece for a tuba in it – replies the
violinist.
-I´ll improvise. You start and I´ll do a
oom-pah-pah.
The audience laughs again. Scandalized looks on their faces. Where did that man
with a tuba come from? He is not even wearing a morning coat. According to
some reports he is wearing a Chicago Bulls t-shirt. He is wearing flip flops. The viola player is
feeling sick. The violinist threatens to call someone from the backstage to take the
tuba player out.
-If anyone comes any closer,
you´ll hear a pof!
The mere expectation of hearing a pof
at that place shocks everyone.
- Alright – says the first violinist – Let´s talk. You
are obviously in the wrong place. This is a string recital. We are preparing to play Mozart. Mozart doesn´t have
a oom-pah-pah sound.
-Then, Mozart doesn´t know what he´s
missing – replies the tuba player, smiling at the audience, hoping to get some
sympathy from them.
He doesn´t succeed. The atmosphere is
hostile. The tuba player changes his tone. He´s threatening now:
- Ok, you blue-blooded snobs. I´m done. Where do you think you are? In the 18th Century? There has been 17
popular revolutions after Mozart. I´ll expropriate these partiturs on behalf of
the people. You´ll all be inquired. One by one, pah pah.
He begs:
- Please. All I want is to play a little bit. I´m humble. I never had the
chance to learn how to play a string instrument. I made this tuba by myself,
from an old volks mobile. Pretty
please…
He uses a seductive tone towards the violist:
- I am the sum of your secret dreams. I am
a product of your lecherous imagination, say it. During the Mozart, in this
cold quartet, it´s me you are thinking of. My belly and my phallic tuba. You want me to
violate you in an allegro assai,
admit it...
Finally,
he challenges the cellist:
- I remember this red moustache. I used to wear it in 1968. Give it back to me!
The tuba player and the cellist begin a fight. The other musicians join them. Now, the audience shouts and jumps. It´s chaos! Symbolizing, maybe, the ultimate failure of the value system that took place after the European Iluminism. Or the prevalence of instinct over reason. Or it could be just the author going crazy. On the stage, as a result of the fight the violist is now wearing the red moustache. The tuba player stops biting the second violinist´s leg, opens his arms and screams: “I want my mom!”
At this moment, a
herd of buffalos enters the stage.
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário