E com teu post, me lembrei de Mário Quintana: "Da primeira vez em que me assassinaramPerdi um jeito de sorrir que eu tinha...Depois, de cada vez que me mataram,Foram levando qualquer coisa minha..."Que teus olhos recuperem a luz que tinham.. ^^
denso, triste, rsrs, gosto dissoimagem linda tmb, Boas reuniões que fazes, rsBoa semana
SONNET XVIIThe very first time that I was murdered I lost my smile, the way I used to be...Then, each time they came and I was killed againThey always took something that belonged to me... Today, of all my bodily remains,I am the barest corpse with nothing leftThe burning flame of a yellowed candle stump Is the only thing of value that survived the theft! Come, all you jackals, crows, and highwaymen! Ah! None will succeed, should you to try to sever Or wrest from my bony hand the sacred light! Birds of Night! Wings of Horror! Fly out of sight!For the burning light, a sad and trembling sigh,The light of a dead man will never die! Mario Quintana(Translated by John D. Godinho)Sonnet XVII in Pinwheel Street.