||Marco Moraes was born in Sao Paulo in 1986.
He studied International Relations at the London School of Economics and law at the London College of Law. He is currently a trainee solicitor at Shearman & Sterling LLP in London. A passionate amateur in terms of music, he proposes to write about concerts he has attended, books and recordings of interest, and on the intersections between music and other art forms.To Johannes Brahms
By Jorge Luis Borges
I, who am an intruder in the gardens
You have prodigated on the plural memory
Of the future, wanted to sing the glory
That lifted your violins up to the blue.
By now I have given up. To honor you
It is not enough this misery that people
Usually call, vacuously, art.
Whoever honours you must be clear and brave.
I am a coward. I am sad. Nothing
Can justify this audacity
Of singing the magnificent joy
—Crystal and fire—of your enamored soul.
My servitude is the impure word,
Fruit of a concept and a sound;
Not symbol, not mirror, not moan,
Yours is the river that flows and that lasts.