segunda-feira, março 21, 2011

Bright Star
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art –

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors –
No – yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever – or else swoon in death.
John Keats, 1819

Resolvi partilhar Keats, apesar de ser inglês, porque ontem estive a ver um filme sobre a vida dele da Jane Campion e fiquei muito impressionada porque este poeta morreu tuberculoso com 25 anos.

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