chatterton

"A Morte de Chatterton", por Henry Wallis

Lição do Século IV: não vou nada bem, mas não sou Nietzsche e, muito menos, Chatterton. Resta-me, então, blogar.

Para os falantes de francês, aqui vai a letra da canção original, de Serge Gainsbourg:

"Chatterton suicidé

Hannibal suicidé

Démosthène suicidé

Nietzsche fou à lier

Quant à moi

Quant à moi

Ça ne va plus très bien

Chatterton suicidé

Cléopatre suicidé

Isocrate suicidé

Goya fou à lier

Quant à moi

Quant à moi

Ça ne va plus très bien

Chatterton suicidé

Marc-Antoine suicidé

Van Gogh suicidé

Schumann fou à lier

Quant à moi

Quant à moi

Ça ne va plus très bien"

À propósito, Thomas Chatterton foi um poeta inglês maldito, falido e doido varrido, cuja pequena obra é desprovida de qualquer valor literário. O sujeito ficou famoso ao se suicidar aos 17 anos, com arsênico. Abaixo, a sua poesia mais conhecida, "A New Song":

"Ah, blame me not, Catcott, if from the right way 

My notions and actions run far. 

How can my ideas do other but stray, 

Deprived of their ruling North-Star? 

A blame me not, Broderip, if mounted aloft, 

I chatter and spoil the dull air; 

How can I imagine thy foppery soft, 

When discord's the voice of my fair? 

If Turner remitted my bluster and rhymes, 

If Hardind was girlish and cold, 

If never an ogle was got from Miss Grimes, 

If Flavia was blasted and old; 

I chose without liking, and left without pain, 

Nor welcomed the frown with a sigh; 

I scorned, like a monkey, to dangle my chain, 

And paint them new charms with a lie. 

Once Cotton was handsome; I flam'd and I burn'd, 

I died to obtain the bright queen; 

But when I beheld my epistle return'd, 

By Jesu it alter'd the scene. 

She's damnable ugly, my Vanity cried, 

You lie, says my Conscience, you lie; 

Resolving to follow the dictates of Pride, 

I'd view her a hag to my eye. 

But should she regain her bright lustre again, 

And shine in her natural charms, 

'Tis but to accept of the works of my pen, 

And permit me to use my own arms".