Marco Moraes loves being an intruder in the musical garden of Interlude. A passionate amateur in terms of music, he writes about concerts he has attended, books and recordings of interest and on the intersections between music and other art forms. Currently living in London, he was born in Sao Paulo in 1986. After graduating in International Relations from the London School of Economics he studied law and is now an associate at Shearman & Sterling LLP, working on competition law.
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.