Por conta de uma possível matéria com o autor, estou lendo o lançamento de Paul Schneider, chamado Bonnie and Clyde, que conta a história do casal fora-da-lei mais famoso do mundo. Já existe um filme de 1967 sobre o casal, e logo menos outro será lançado, com (eca) Hillary Duff no papel de Bonnie Elizabeth Parker.
Eu sempre amei o casal, que se mantinha elegante e apaixonado entre uma estrada e outra, nas fugas pelas cidades dos Estados Unidos. O livro é fascinante, e mostra um lado bem privado do casal. E é exatamente por esse lado privado, que tanto me fascina, que estou postando; queria compartilhar um dos poemas de Bonnie, que adorava escrever. O poema abaixo se chama The Story of Bonnie and Clyde, e foi escrito no começo dos anos 1930 (ela morreu em 34, aos 23 anos).
Para completar, uma foto do casal quando eles estavam se hospedando em um chalé, junto com o irmão de Clyde, Buck, sua mulher Blanche e o jovem W.D. Jones. Na foto, Bonnie aparece "atirando" em Clyde - coisa que, no livro, era realmente só uma brincadeira. Schneider fala que Bonnie pouquíssimas vezes tocou em uma arma. A foto não revela a beleza da menina, porém; com seus 1,46m (Clyde tinha por volta de 1,60), ela era descrita como uma loira muito linda. Em outras fotos isso pode ser comprovado (não confundam com as imagens do filme de 67!!!), mas essa é a minha favorita (e também a capa do livro).
Então, lá vai. Para quem gostoar e quiser mais, pesquise por Suicide Sal, outro poema dela.
The Story of Bonnie and Clyde
You've read the story of Jesse James
Of how he lived and died;
If you're still in need of something to read
Here's the story of Bonnie and Clyde.
Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang
I'm sure you all have read
How they rob and steal and those who squeal
Are usually found dying or dead.
There's lots of untruths to these write-ups
They're not so ruthless as that
Their nature is raw, they hate the law
The stool pigeons, spotters, and rats.
They call them cold-blooded killers
They say they are heartless and mean
But I say this with pride that I once knew Clyde
When he was honest and upright and clean.
But the laws fooled around kept taking him down
And locking him up in a cell,
Till he said to me,"I'll never be free,So I'll meet a few of them in hell."
The road was so dimly lighted;
There were no highway signs to guide, but they made up their minds
If all roads were blind,
They wouldn't give up till they died.
The road gets dimmer and dimmer;
Sometimes you can hardly see;
But it's fight, man to man and do all you can,
For they know they can never be free.
From heart-break some people have suffered
From weariness some people have died;
But take it all in all, our troubles are small
Till we get like Bonnie and Clyde.
If a policeman is killed in Dallas,
And they have no clue or guide;
If they can't find a fiend, they just wipe their slate clean
And hang it on Bonnie and Clyde.
There's two crimes committed in America
Not accredited to the Barrow mob;
They had no hand in the kidnap demand,
Nor the Kansas City Depot job.
A newsboy once said to his buddy:"I wish old Clyde would get jumped;
In these awful hard times we'd make a few dimes
If five or six cops would get bumped."
The police haven't got the report yet,
But Clyde called me up today;
He said, "Don't start any fights, we aren't working nights
We're joining the NRA."
From Irving to West Dallas viaduct
Is known as the Great Divide,
Where the women are kin and the men are men,
And they won't "stool" on Bonnie and Clyde.
If they try to act like citizensAnd rent them a nice little flat,
About the third night they're invited to fight
By a sub-gun's rat-tat-tat.
They don't think they're too smart or desperate,
They know that the law always wins;
They've been shot at before, but they do not ignore
That death is the wages of sin.
Some day they'll go down together;
They'll bury them side by side;
To few it'll be grief, to the law a relief
But it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.
arhol não fugiu à regra), mas vale a pena se animar desde já. =]