What is left after satire corroded all possibilities? In the last few days I have become addicted to the song below. Its euphoric positiveness and the counterpoint of negativity. It parodies truthfully a certain way of being political and Portuguese.
|
Agora sim, damos a volta a isto! Agora sim, há pernas para andar! Agora sim, eu sinto o optimismo! Vamos em frente, ninguém nos vai parar! |
Yes, now, we will turn this around! Yes, now, it has legs to walk! Yes, now, I feel the optimism! Ahead, nobody can stop us! |
|---|---|
|
Agora não, que é hora do almoço… Agora não, que é hora do jantar… Agora não, que eu acho que não posso… Amanhã vou trabalhar… |
Not now, it’s lunch time… Not now, it’s supper time. Not now, I don’t think i can make it… Tomorrow I have to go to work… |
Once you place enthusiasm against its inverted self, does enthusiasm survive? One could say it’s simply dialectics, one ravages the other. But I don’t see the next step in the progression.
I see a hollow, dark place, of silence, neither positive, nor negative, instead indifferent and laughing and displaced. Maybe it is nothing to do with the song, and everything to do with where I listen to it. I am no longer there, where this satire happens with conviction and without self-perspective, so I cannot be in it, and resolve it.
