Trecho de ‘Waiting for Godot’
Março 20, 2007
Escrita no fim dos anos 40 e publicada tão somente em 1952, primeiramente em francês e posteriormente em inglês (o autor costumava escrever suas peças nas duas línguas, seja primeiramente no francês e posteriormente no inglês, como o contrário) , Waiting for Godot é uma tragicomédia em dois atos escrita pelo dramaturgo irlandês Samuel Beckett.
Eis um fragmento, presente no Ato II:
Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot? That Pozzo passed, with his carrier, and that he spoke to us? Probably. But in all that what truth will there be?
(Estragon, having struggled with his boots in vain, is dozing off again. Vladimir looks at him.) He’ll know nothing. He’ll tell me about the blows he received and I’ll give him a carrot. (Pause.) Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. (He listens.) But habit is a great deadener. (He looks again at Estragon.) At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on. (Pause.) I can’t go on! (Pause.) What have I said?
He goes feverishly to and fro, halts finally at extreme left, broods. Enter Boy right. He halts. Silence.