Terras do sem fim / Les terres du bout du monde (Jorge Amado)
Début composition (enjeu situé / description création)
Texte en français
Jorge Amado, Terras do sem fim [1943], São Paulo, Companhia das Letras, 2008
Un navire transporte vers les terres d’Ilhéus, au sud de Bahia, des individus convergeant de toutes les régions du Brésil dans l’espoir de faire fortune avec le cacao. Des compétitions sanglantes pour la conquête de terres constituent le point de départ d’une réflexion, à travers la littérature, sur le cacao en tant que symbole de dévastation écologique, d’exploitation humaine et non humaine, d’accumulation et de violence déréglée, dissimulées sous des slogans officiels de civilisation, d’ordre et de progrès.
Contributeur: Luciano Brito
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Texte en anglais
Jorge Amado, Terras do sem fim [1943], São Paulo, Companhia das Letras, 2008
A ship transports to the lands of Ilhéus, south of Bahia, individuals converging from all regions of Brazil in the hope of making their fortune with cocoa. Bloody competitions for the conquest of land constitute the starting point for a reflection, through literature, on cocoa as a symbol of ecological devastation, human and non-human exploitation, accumulation and unregulated violence, hidden under official slogans of civilization, order and progress.
Contributor: Luciano Brito
*
Fin de composition (enjeu situé / description création)
Début composition (création)
Texte en version originale
Version originale
Original version
Jeremias se ergue. Desta vez não precisou de bordão para sustentar em pé seu corpo centenário. Deu dois passos para a porta da cabana. Agora seus olhos quase cegos viam perfeitamente vista a mata em todo seu esplendor. E a via desde os dias mais longínquos do passado até esta noite que marcava o seu fim. Sabia que os homens a iam penetrar, iam derrubar a floresta, matar os animais, plantar cacau na terra onde havia sido a mata de Sequeiro Grande. Enxergou o fogo das queimadas se estorcendo nos cipós, lambendo os troncos, ouviu o miado das onças acossadas, o guincho dos macacos, o silvo das cobras se queimando. Viu os homens de machado e facões acabando com o resto que o fogo deixara, pelando tudo, pondo a terra nua, arrancando até as raízes mais profundas dos troncos. Não via o negro Damião que traíra seu chefe e chorava agora a sua traição. Via era a mata devastada, derrubada e queimada, via os cacaueiros nascendo, e estava possuído de um ódio imenso. Sua voz não saiu num murmúrio como sempre, não se dirigia tampouco ao negro Damião que tremia e chorava na espera das palavras que alijariam o sofrimento para longe. As palavras de Jeremias eram para os seus deuses, os deuses que tinham vindo das florestas da África, Ogum, Oxóssi, Iansã, Oxolufã, Omolu, e também a Exu, que é o diabo. Clamava por eles para que desencadeassem a sua cólera sobre aqueles que iam perturbar a paz da sua moradia. E disse:
— O olho da piedade secou e eles tá olhando pra mata com o olho da ruindade. Agora eles vai entrar na mata mas antes vai morrer homem e mulher, os menino e até os bicho de pena. Vai morrer até não ter mais buraco onde enterrar, até os urubu não dar mais abasto de tanta carniça, até a terra tá vermelha de sangue que vire rio nas estrada e nele se afogue os parente, os vizinho e as amizade deles, sem faltar nenhum. Vão entrar na mata mas é pisando carne de gente, pisando defunto. Cada pé de pau que eles derrube vai ser um homem derrubado, e os urubu vai ser tanto que vai esconder o sol. Carne vai ser estrume de pé de cacau, cada muda vai ser regada com sangue deles, deles tudo, tudo, sem faltar nenhum.
Gritou mais uma vez o nome dos seus deuses queridos. Gritou por Exu também, entregando-lhe sua vingança, sua voz atravessando a mata, despertando as aves, os macacos, as cobras e as onças. Gritou mais uma vez, era uma praga ardente:
— Cada filho vai plantar seu cacaueiro em riba do sangue do pai…
Depois olhou fito para a madrugada que se abria em trinados de pássaros sobre a mata de Sequeiro Grande. Seu corpo foi cedendo, tinha sido imenso o esforço. Foi cedendo, seus olhos cegaram de todo, as pernas se dobraram e ele caiu sobre a terra, os pés tocaram no negro Damião transido de medo. Não saiu da sua boca nem um suspiro, nem um lamento. No estertor da morte, Jeremias procurava apenas repetir sua praga, torcida de ódio sua boca agonizante. Nas árvores, os pássaros gorjeavam um canto matinal. A luz da madrugada iluminava a mata de Sequeiro Grande.
(Jorge Amado, Terras do sem fim [1943], São Paulo, Companhia das Letras, 2008, p.107-108)
Texte en français
Traduction française
Jeremias se leva. Cette fois-ci il n’eut pas besoin du bâton pour aider son corps centenaire à tenir debout. Il fit deux pas en direction de la porte, ses yeux presqu’aveugles voyaient parfaitement la forêt dans toute sa splendeur, il la voyait depuis les jours les plus lointains du passé jusqu’à cette nuit qui annonçait sa fin. Il savait que les hommes allaient y pénétrer, abattre des arbres, tuer des animaux, planter du cacao dans la terre qui avait été la forêt de Sequeiro Grande. Il entrevit le feu des brûlis détruisant les lianes, léchant les troncs, il entendit le rauquement des jaguars pourchassés, le cri épouvanté des singes, le sifflement des serpents en flammes. Il vit des hommes qui brandissaient des haches et des machettes abattre ce que le feu avait laissé debout, mettant la terre à nu, enlevant les racines les plus profondes des troncs renversés. Il avait oublié Damiao qui avait trahi son patron et maintenant pleurait sa trahison, il voyait la forêt dévastée et brûlée, les cacaoyers qui poussaient sur son sol et il était possédé d’une haine farouche. Sa voix n’était plus un murmure et ne s’adressait pas à Damiao qui tremblait et pleurait dans l’attente des mots qui soulageraient sa souffrance. Les paroles de Jeremias s’adressaient à ces dieux venus des forêts d’Afrique, Ogoum, Oxosse, Iansa, Oxulufa et aussi à Exu, le diable. Elles clamaient pour qu’ils déchaînent leur colère sur ceux qui allaient perturber la paix de sa demeure :
– L’œil de la pitié a séché et ils regardent la forêt avec l’œil de la malignité, maintenant ils vont la détruire mais auparavant mourront des hommes, des femmes, des enfants et même des bêtes. Il y aura tant de morts que les trous seront insuffisants pour les enterrer et que les urubus ne suffiront pas à la tâche jusqu’à ce que la terre soit rouge de sang et que ce sang devienne fleuve sur les routes au point de noyer parents, amis et voisins sans qu’il en reste un seul. Ils pénétreront dans la forêt en marchant sur de la chair vivante et de la chair morte. Pour chaque tronc d’arbre abattu il y aura un homme abattu et il viendra tant d’urubus qu’ils cacheront le soleil. La chair humaine deviendra l’engrais des plants de cacao, chaque plant sera arrosé de leur sang, du sang de tous, tous, sans qu’il en manque un seul.
Il clama une nouvelle fois le nom de ses dieux bien-aimés et il appela aussi Exu, lui confiant le soin de sa vengeance. Sa voix traversait la forêt, réveillait les oiseaux, les singes, les serpents et les jaguars. Sa voix était une ardente imprécation :
– Chaque enfant plantera son cacaoyer dans le sang de son père…
Puis il regarda fixement l’aube qui s’éveillait dans le gazouillis des oiseaux sur la forêt de Sequeiro Grande. Son corps s’affaissa, son effort avait été trop intense, ses yeux devinrent aveugles, ses jambes plièrent et il tomba par terre, ses pieds touchant Damiao cloué par la peur. Ni un soupir ni une lamentation ne sortirent de sa bouche. Dans le râle de l’agonie, la bouche de Jeremias tordue par la haine cherchait seulement à répéter son imprécation. Dans les arbres, les oiseaux gazouillaient leur chant matinal, la lumière de l’aube illuminait la forêt de Sequeiro Grande.
(Jorge Amado, Les terres du bout du monde, trad. Isabel Meyrelles, Paris, Gallimard, « Folio », 1991, p. 154-156)
Texte en anglais
English translation
Jeremias drew himself erect. He needed no staff now to support his centenarian’s frame. In two strides he was at the door of the hut, where his half-seeing eyes had a view of the forest in all its splendour. At the same time he beheld the path that led from those distant days of the past down to this morning which was to mark his end. He knew that men were coming into the woods, knew that they were going to fell them, that they were going to kill off the animals and plant cacao on the land where the forest of Sequeiro Grande once had stood. He could see the smoke from the flames writhing among the lianas, licking the tree-trunks, could hear the howls of the jaguars as they fled, the hiss of the burning snakes. He could see the men with their axes and their pruning-knives completing the work of the flames, stripping the earth, laying it bare, digging up even the deepest roots of the trees. What he did not see was Negro Damião, who had betrayed his employer and was kneeling there, weeping for his treason. He saw, instead, the devastated wood, felled and burned over, he saw the cacao trees springing up, and a tremendous hatred took possession of him. When he spoke, it was no longer to mutter as he always did, nor did he address himself to Negro Damião, who was trembling and weeping, waiting for the words that should dispel his suffering. Jeremias’s words were addressed to his gods, to his own gods, those gods that had come from the jungles of Africa—to Ogún, Oxossi, Yansan, Oxolufã, Omolú—and to Exú, as well, who was the Devil himself. He was calling upon them now to unloose their wrath upon those who were coming to disturb the peace of their dwelling-place.
« Piety is dried up, and they are eyeing the forest with the eye of the wicked. They shall enter the forest, now; but before they enter, they shall die, men and women and little ones, even unto the beasts of the field. They shall die, until there is no longer any hole in which to bury them, until the buzzards have had their fill of flesh, until the earth shall be red with blood. A river shall flow in the highways, and in it relatives, neighbours, friends shall be drowned, and not a one shall escape. They shall enter the forest, but it shall be over the bodies of their own dead. For each tree, each sapling that they fell, a man shall be felled, and the buzzards shall be so many in number as to hide the sun. Human flesh shall be the fertilizer that they spread for their cacao shoots, and every shrub shall be watered with their blood—with the blood of all of them, all, all—for none shall escape, not a man, woman, child, or beast. »
Once again he called upon the names of his beloved deities. He called upon Exú as well, entrusting to him the vengeance that he sought, as his voice rang out through the forest, awakening the birds, the monkeys, the snakes, and the jaguars. Then one last time he shouted, and this time it was a curse, a flaming curse:
« Each son shall plant his cacao tree on the banks of a river flowing with his father’s blood. »
He then gazed fixedly at the dawn, which was greeted by the trill of birds above the forest of Sequeiro Grande. His body was giving way; the effort he had made had been en enormous one. His body was yielding, his eyes were closing wholly now, his legs bent beneath him, and he sank to the earthen floor, his feet touching Negro Damião, who was beside himself with fear. Not one sigh, one moan, came from his lips, but in his death-agony Jeremias strove to repeat his curse, his mouth still writhing with hatred. In the trees the birds were warbling their early morning song. The forest of Sequeiro Grande was flooded with the light of dawn.
(Jorge Amado, The Violent Land, translated by Samuel Putman, New York, Alfred A. Knopf, 1945)
Fin de composition (création)
