O meu ser não é baço.
Tem um arco-íris de sangue
a correr cá dentro.
Existe com a raiva
das algas marinhas
e a ternura das estrelas
do Verão anoitecido.
O meu ser é de areia
- ou gostava de ser uma sereia -
para viver no fundo do mar
ser muito menos amante
muito mais luar.
Virgínia Silva
sábado, 20 de fevereiro de 2010
terça-feira, 16 de fevereiro de 2010
domingo, 7 de fevereiro de 2010
sábado, 6 de fevereiro de 2010
INVICTUS
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
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley
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