quinta-feira, 27 de dezembro de 2012

Meditações - vento de Inverno

What the Thrush Said

O thou whose face hath felt the Winter's wind,
Whose eye has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist,
And the black elm tops 'mong the freezing stars!
To thee the spring will be a harvest time.
O thou whose only book has been the light
Of supreme darkness, which thou feddest on
Night after night, when Phoebus was away!
To thee the spring shall be a triple morn.
O fret not after knowledge. I have none,
And yet my song comes native with the warmth.
O fret not after knowledge! I have none.
And yet the evening listens. He who saddens
At thought of idleness cannot be idle,
And he's awake who thinks himself asleep.

John Keats

1 comentário:


  1. Ventos de inverno são frios
    como a neve nas montanhas:
    os dias tornam sombrios
    e gelam nossas entranhas!

    JCN

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