chainsmoking, cradled by drugs, by jazz
as never by any lover's cradling flesh.
O pena negra, sensual Flamenco blues;
the red clay foxfire voice of Lady Day
sobsings her sorrow and loss and fare you well,
dryweeps the pain his treacherous jailers
His fears and his unfinished self
await him down in the anywhere streets.
takes refuge in a stained-glass cell,
flies to a clockless country of crystal.
Only the ghost of Lady Day knows where
he is. Only the music. And he swings
oh swings: beyond complete immortal now.
"Soledad" de Robert Hayden
(Para ouvir Flamenco Sketches de Miles Davis (Kind of Blue) clicar no poema; para ouvir Soledad, declamada pelo próprio Robert Hayden, clicar aqui)