Narciso Durães, poet of Salinas, develops in their texts an own style, and work with the subject of the regional and of the universal, I draw outstanding of his book of poems Gerifalte (1997, Graphic Arts).
Gerifalte (that I think to be kindred of the famous carcará) it is the deforming mirror in that Narcissus reads us, and that evalutes the book of this the opening text:
The gerifalte is a project of metals
from the nest: enamel plumage,
nap of cloth, wools urtigosas.
It is in the fly, however, that he adjusts
the precision of their sheets and tenacious:
a lamb that grazed on in label
of olive oil of alone olive he knew it later.
Gerifalte is an avid sphinx, but it is with that anguish that Narcissus writes, mixing the rustic to chat with passages sophisticated poetic prose. In fact, once in a while Narciso edges the polissemia, he makes poems to a step of the prose, of the I cause, it absorbs the folklore, the history, the popular culture. Gerifalte flies in lathe:
On vacuous, rivers, fatuous fires
Mantiqueira hills, baskets and crossroads
as it agrees to the dressed robbery
in plumage of shady enamel
the gerifalte is myth in movement
or totem static, priestly,
in the mouth of the savanna from where comes
the planetary night done of stars
to kerosene oil
and jenipapo fruit acid, vertical
Due to the conjunction of the regional with the universal, possible associations appear with Guimarães Rosa, Manoel of Barros, Graciliano Ramos and other. But the deliberate search of the strangeness, of the disabused baroque style, of the abrupt jump in the trapeze, the mixed erudition attacks to a knowledge peasant and primal, the dramatic suddenness of cosmopolitismo impress, as in Welded Timotão:
Timotão welded badly left a carraspana
he enters in other: remorses of the Campaign of Italy
where served under Mark Clark of who, in fact,
he has a picture with dedication and everything.
the hangover, incurable, is for not having disembarked
The phenomenon of the modernization is lived as the beginning of a brave and exotic reality. The barbarian in the world of Narciso is what is not mirror, it is the modernizing ambition, that he presents how hallucinated, nebulous, desperate, that appears in Hamper of Pisces:
Hangers of chicken-pedrês
watermelons of saint-barbaric:
In 1915, Alexander Reese
it was affected of the (sic) USA with intentions
of catechizing Brazil.
Of him incredible histories are told
since it interrupted a ritual
aborigin in Papua-New Guinea
brandishing a crucifix and shouting
to full lungs:
- Of the you need the toten to worship
this i the true one!
In this beautiful passage, amused besides, the North American is the Indian, the fanatic, the wild, the other capable of ridiculous and boastful gestures. Alexander Reese's aggressive and ethnocentric attitude becomes pathetic, the foreigner appears as a braggart, a harlequin, a clown. A priest's image shouting as a Calvinist Get-together that discovered the true totem, a type of stone filosofal in cross form, it evokes a tragicomic scene and he/she makes to think us in the perplexity of the aborígenes before that absurd interruption. The dishevelled statement of Reese contains as much the acceptance of the cross as totem and the human being's born need as the profanadora proclamation that it is of ownership of the sacred truth. The sentence of Reese seems it was elaborated and dictated deliberately, but it causes a lot of perplexity even so. The confluence between the archaism and the powder-modernity repeats in the poem Madame Celinah:
He says something changed a course of Anthropology
in Sorbonne for a cabaret in Argel
where made fortune.
Reared for one of the a lot of revolutions
fundamentalistas, gave with the costados in Bahia,
then in medium Jequitinhonha.
He/she brings kept to seven keys, a turban that,
he/she takes oath, it belonged to the tuaregue Saladino III.
Here again the exogen element comes as mysterious and incomprehensible. A turban of Saladino and a former-soldier of the II War live together at the basements of the memory, in the valleys of the imaginary, in a Jequitinhonha hiper-realist.
The book is, finally, rich. The foreword, although correct, sins for the excess, with adolescent puns. Maybe the appropriate title went "childbirth to same forceps." This inconsequent foreword is a dangerous trampoline for the dive in the poetry of Narciso, where the ones that if they venture can fish pearls. The roads of Narciso are tense, but after dust whirls, rains, thunders and lightnings, I believe that it jumps to the eyes a dense and powerful literary talent.