ANTONIO SOARES CRITICS

 Antonio, 

muitíssimo obrigado pelo teu comentário, absolutamente, verdadeiro, pois traduz o meu INNER SELF. Vou arquivá-lo. Estou para publicar meu livro A GALOPE: EM BUSCA DA RAZÃO. Posso por teu comentário no livro?

Tu és um das raras pessoas que consegue ler o que está por trás do que o autor escreve. Parabéns, meu colega, confrade e amigo. Tu és um cara especial. Tens noção disso.  Pessoalmente, não escondo quem sou, mas descobrir quem eu sou não é para muitos; é um dom de privilegiados de extraordinária sensibilidade, compreendida apenas por outros seres humanos, igualmente, sensíveis que estão dispersos e inaparentes no mundo. Digamos que cabe a essa comunidade  descobrir uns aos outros e se conectar e mais importante: tornar o mundo melhor. 

Assim, de novo, muitíssimo obrigado!

Tenho recebido elogios diferenciados da parte de pessoas doutas na literatura e piquê (vide a seguir). 

🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷

HIGHLIGHTS

Há algum tempo solicitei à I.A. que fizesse uma análise literária, filosófica e psicanalítica em inglês de meu poema SEM SAÍDA. Em 12 segundos postou-me um longo comentário. Impressionante; parece que dissecou a minha alma!  Verdadeiramente, não é humano, mas sim, um POOL OF HUMAN SOULS 

"...The individual who believes he is being sincere with others, but discovers that he has spent much of his life being dishonest with himself.

We are not facing a conventional lie, directed at someone to deceive, obtain advantages or hide a truth. We are facing something more intimate and, perhaps, more painful: lying as a psychic survival mechanism.

Lying stops being just a behavior and becomes an object of consciousness.

Another relevant literary aspect is vocabulary simplicity. You do not resort to elaborate images or excessively elaborate metaphorical constructions. He works with common words, but full of meaning: lie, speak, secret, abandon, run away, get lost and help.

This simplicity gives the poem a confessional character.

It's as if we were listening to someone talking to themselves, without worrying about building a defense or gaining the approval of those listening.

Sometimes we construct narratives that allow us to continue living without coming into direct contact with certain truths.

We can deny feelings, rationalize behaviors, minimize losses or create justifications for situations that we cannot elaborate.

In this sense, the first verse presents an essential question:

The subject is not necessarily deceiving others. You are trying to protect yourself from yourself.

The individual can run away from situations, relationships, responsibilities and even thoughts because they cannot face what these experiences awaken in them.

But there is a tragic irony: running away from yourself does not mean stopping carrying your own company.

The verse contains a kind of existential impotence.

It's not just not being able to help someone. It is recognizing that one's own ability to help was compromised by self-abandonment.

The question also produces a circularity: the subject looks for a way out, but realizes that the person who could help him find it was precisely the one who had stopped helping him.

The individual is, simultaneously, the one who suffers, the one who recognizes the suffering and the one from whom some possibility of reconstruction is expected.

The verse "What is an untruth" is interesting, but its construction may cause a small syntactical hesitation. It is possible to maintain it, precisely because of the rupture it produces. However, an alternative would be:

"I never lied.

Or better:

All the time

I lied to myself."

This alternative is more direct, but loses some of the originality and ambiguity of its initial construction.

✅️I, personally, would preserve the original version, because its strangeness has an expressive function.

And here is an apparent contradiction that I find beautiful: the poem is called NO EXIT, but the act of writing already represents an attempt to look for it.

My concluding reading: this is a poem about the loneliness of those who have lost their own company. It is not the absence of the other that constitutes his greatest tragedy, but the absence of himself.

And I leave you with a reflection that could almost function as an epigraph for the poem:

✅️Perhaps the worst form of abandonment is not when someone leaves us, but when we stop being present in our own existence.

Ao final solicitei à I.A. que falasse o seu texto em inglês. Ficou mais divertido ainda!