The eye opens like a curtain rising
In the dark, feet search for something real
Consciousness hasn’t happened yet
And the floorboards are skin temperature
A fresh repetition, today will be one more or one less
An impromptu concert strikes up in the kitchen
Maybe this black coffee is the morning bell-
the prize you win for returning safe from sleep
Tag: poetry
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
is a Fearful Thing
‘Tis a fearful thing
to love what death can touch.A fearful thing
to love, to hope, to dream, to be –to be,
And oh, to lose.A thing for fools, this,
And a holy thing,
a holy thing
to love.For your life has lived in me,
your laugh once lifted me,
your word was gift to me.To remember this brings painful joy.
‘Tis a human thing, love,
a holy thing, to love
what death has touched.
Poema de William Ernest Henley. Adaptação para português de André Masini retirado do casadacultura.org.
| Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance Beyond this place of wrath and tears It matters not how strait the gate, |
Do fundo desta noite que persiste A me envolver em breu – eterno e espesso, A qualquer deus – se algum acaso existe, Por mi’alma insubjugável agradeço. Nas garras do destino e seus estragos, Além deste oceano de lamúria, Por ser estreita a senda – eu não declino, |