(…)
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
(…)
—William Wordsworth, Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
Hoje em dia já ninguém lá vai, aquilo está cheio de gente
Artigos etiquetados “poesia”
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
—Carl Sandburg
Retocável é
tudo
Excepto
o negativo
em nós
— Reiner Kunze
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –
And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My mind was going numb –
And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,
As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,
Wrecked, solitary, here –
And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –
— Emily Dickinson The Poems of Emily Dickinson: Variorum Edition, Harvard University Press, 1983
Entre, dispa a
tristeza, aqui
pode nada dizer
—Reiner Kunze