The last lethal ride to the burning cross, por Fábio de Oliveira

The last lethal ride to the burning cross, por Fábio de Oliveira Ribeiro

É cediço que os gregos não conheceram ou, pelo menos, que eles nunca foram capazes de valorizar qualquer coisa semelhante àquilo que nós chamamos de “livre arbítrio”. Entre eles as ações humanas eram quase sempre determinadas pelos deuses. O sucesso e o fracasso dos empreendimentos humanos (fossem eles diplomáticos ou belicosos) não podiam ser, portanto, inteiramente creditados totalmente aos homens.

Essa “matriz cultural” fica evidente quando levamos em consideração as palavras da Odisseia:

“Obra dos deuses foi tudo, que aos homens a ruína teceram,
para que nunca aos vindoiros faltasse matéria de canto”.
Odisseia, Homero, Canto VIII
https://pt.wikiquote.org/wiki/Odisseia

Numa tradução mais concisa:

O Céu quis sucumbissem tais guerreiros,
Para matéria a pósteros poemas.
Odisseia, Homero, Canto VIII
http://www.ebooksbrasil.org/eLibris/odisseiap.html#8

Ao relatar a façanha de Caio Mucio Cévola, Tito Lívio faz seu personagem afirmar que “É virtude romana agir e sofrer.” A valorização da ação humana tem suas vantagens políticas e militares. Ao assumir pessoalmente os riscos das suas ações, os romanos colhiam os louros da vitória. Quando eram derrotados no campo de batalha a cidade de Roma geralmente considerava o infortúnio transitório. Isso explica porque foi Roma e não Cartago que venceu a 2ª Guerra Púnica, apesar de Haníbal ter vencido as batalhas de Ticino (218 aC), do Lago Trasimeno (217 aC) e Canas (216 aC). A propósito, nunca é demais lembrar que a crença de que os deuses também eram responsáveis pelas ações humanas não fez dos gregos senhores do Mundo Antigo. Muito pelo contrário, a Grécia também acabou sendo transformada numa província romana.

O brilho da Ilíada e da Odisseia, entretanto, nunca se apagou. Os dois poemas épicos creditados a Homero gozaram de muito prestígio no apogeu do império romano e continuaram a ser admirados até o fim do Império Bizantino (quando então foram transportados para a Europa de onde ganharam o mundo). O mesmo não pode ser dito da poesia épica romana, pois o brilho da Eneida foi ofuscado pelo cristianismo antes mesmo da queda de Roma.

Fiz essa pequena introdução para situar no universo cultural grego o poema que escrevi em inglês para distrair vários colegas ingleses. O tema dele é o assassinato de Soleimani e a Guerra do Irã. O poema tem um sabor épico, mas várias passagens dele podem ser creditadas à tradição portuguesa da “poesia de maldizer”. Não há nada que eu possa fazer nessa guerra além de rir dos norte-americanos e do seu grande imperador branco.

The last lethal ride to the burning cross

The Muses came to say that the end of the future has come
Obsessed by Eris, the US emperor made the fatal mistake
He prays for a peaceful Jesus who cries
But in the bed of dead skins with Ares he lies
Aphrodite, Eros, Apolo and Aidos good fruits
Evaporate on the American dirty burning cross
Thanatos’s world has arrived with a deadly Crusader missile
The loss, the pain, the death and the lonely tears
Hides black smoke that produces an atomic salt sweat
The war has begun, soon everything will have an end
Because now Ares flies fast like the intercontinental rocket
Shot preemptively by all who will be defeated
The dead will finally see a lasting peace
There is no room here to mourn
the death of the fallen empire chickens
Those who cried out for the war that killed them
Don’t even deserve to be remembered
The war would be very fast
if the old Americans had the courage
to go to combat personally
instead of using young cowards to kill unarmed civilians
Athena descended from the sky and held Achilles by his blond hair
and thus prevented him from drawing the sword against Agamemnon
In the sword that Trump drew to kill Soleimani
one infernal god wrote “fate will return its blow”
Imagining being held by his god, the American tyrant attacked
Deceived like this he celebrated the misfortune of his own country
No fair victory is born with a crime
A painful defeat that only the dead cannot cry
But the future of the racist empire will be bright.
When all the lights go out because no electricity is produced
Tiny twinkling stars will illuminate the eternal American night.
Everything they touch will be hot and poisoned
And the sunglasses won’t save survivors’ eyes
Those who cannot see in war something horrendous
Painful life will have after it’s over for us
In the catacombs of Rome,
in the ruins of Delphi in the caves of Cumas
Ancient spirits woke up and mourn the death of the New World
The moderns decided to be like the old ones, cud the Sibyl
And like us they are bound to look and perish
The prostitute who loves to look like a puritanical woman
Dance like crazy Pythia at the White House
She predicts success, victory and profit.
But war will turn her children into corpses
The drama of science that has become ignorant
Wraps an evil that cannot resurrect the empire
The American tyrant says “Soleimani was going to kill more and more”
But a dead corpse can’t talk except when it wants to walk between us
The clever magician shaman enters the soul of the dead
But only the liar makes his murdered enemy confess
One loves peace and pacifies the living and the dead.
Other wants the war that America will totally destroy
The fall of Troy started with an inconsolable betrayed Menelaus
The Washington fall occurred with the electoral victory of a deadly lie.
The great racist white man will fall because of the black gold
With him die all regimes by force created in CIA mold
The freedom reborn from the ashes of nuclear winter
Will die of cancer before creating a new Arabic spring
Before dying, the last emperor said “I have 52 targets in Iran”
Iranians only need to destroy a single target to win
But this target has already been destroyed by Jughead twin
No one believes a liar who kills an unarmed man without warning
The image of the first hero of this new OK Corral
It will be the last that the losers will see turned into salt
In the Strait of Hormuz an empire will sink
Whoever says otherwise has already lost his unblinking eye
The dirty underworld of the rich has rained fire on Celtic Island
The old Queen and her Tampax son love golden oil.
Finally they will also lose their beloved land.
In the shallow sea where the US empire sank
The emperor’s dog will bark in the dark
And when the last bell rings in Westminster Abbey
The dying Tory zombies will scream: What have we done?
But not even St. George can heal the deadly wound
opened in England because of an Eton College moron
The wheel of the world goes on and on crushing sweet dreams
First generation dies miserably in virtuous war to create empire
The second generation lives comfortably because of this desire
This one advertises what the third generation is bound to end
Because it believes in the empire the third generation destroys it
Many times this has been seen in China, but Americans are shallow
They think: for us the inevitable march of history may be slow
Our enemies are always small in the face of our irresistible power.
But the emperor’s enemies enter with him in the morning shower
Contempt for true knowledge, arrogance and a lot of religion,
Overuse of narcotics and permanent consumption of self-praise
Always defeat a decaying empire that struggles to impose itself
Racist soldiers will feel the bitter taste of defeat in the arid region
A final word about the Brazilian ruler: Bolsonaro is gray
The sad son of the traitors with a dying empire disappeared on an ugly day.
Swallow the dead silence and listen to a deep breath after the end
Now all Muses will have to shut up in a tent