Falemos da morte

pois ela integra a nossa vida.
Ocultá-la, denegá-la, nomeadamente aos jovens, com medo de os "traumatizar", só significará suscitar uma perplexidade futura que, essa sim, dificilmente será superável.
Eis como Sylvia Plath a abordou, através de um pormenor de um quadro de Brueghel, O triunfo da morte, no poema (díptico onde ecoa o romance The Bell Jar) “Two Views of a Cadaver Room”:

"I
The day she visited the dissecting room
They had four men laid out, black as burnt turkey,
Already half unstrung. A vinegary fume
Of the death vats clung to them;
The white-smocked boys started working.
The head of his cadaver had caved in,
And she could scarcely make out anything
In that rubble of skull plates and old leather.
A sallow piece of string held it together.

In their jars the snail-nosed babies moon and glow.
He hands her the cut-out heart like a cracked heirloom.

II
In Breughel's panorama of smoke and slaughter
Two people only are blind to the carrion army:
He, afloat in the sea of her blue satin
Skirts, sings in the direction
Of her bare shoulder, while she bends,
Fingering a leaflet of music, over him,
Both of them deaf to the fiddle in the hands
Of the death's-head shadowing their song.
These Flemish lovers flourish; not for long."

O episódio evocado na secção I é narrado no romance de Plath, The Bell Jar. Daí a referência que fiz no início. Encontramo-lo, igualmente, nos diários da escritora.

O pormenor por ela referido na secção II pode ser desvendado no canto inferior direito do quadro.

Boa semana!