terça-feira, 24 de junho de 2008
sábado, 21 de junho de 2008
One Art
"The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster."
Elizabeth Bishop
"The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster."
Elizabeth Bishop
quarta-feira, 18 de junho de 2008
terça-feira, 17 de junho de 2008
segunda-feira, 16 de junho de 2008
Até amanhã
O que eu tenho a te oferecer talvez pareça pouco. Não vale muito, não enche uma sacola. É leve que nem brisa de mar, sol de inverno. Mas necessário como chuva de verão, céu de estrela. Confortável como casa amarela, rede na varanda, cachorro gordo abanando o rabo na entrada. E tão barato quanto cerveja de botequim, café no copo plástico. Ainda que desejado como sorriso de manhã, abraço no inverno.
Só o que eu tenho a te oferecer é sossego, aconhego, paz. Sarar teus ais, te fazer feliz.
O que eu tenho a te oferecer talvez pareça pouco. Não vale muito, não enche uma sacola. É leve que nem brisa de mar, sol de inverno. Mas necessário como chuva de verão, céu de estrela. Confortável como casa amarela, rede na varanda, cachorro gordo abanando o rabo na entrada. E tão barato quanto cerveja de botequim, café no copo plástico. Ainda que desejado como sorriso de manhã, abraço no inverno.
Só o que eu tenho a te oferecer é sossego, aconhego, paz. Sarar teus ais, te fazer feliz.
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