21 de fevereiro de 2007


W. H. Auden (1907-1973)



Miranda


My Dear One is mine as mirrors are lonely,
And the poor and sad are real to the good king,
And the high green hill sits always by the sea.

Up jumped the Black Man behind the elder tree,
Turned a somersault and ran away waving;
My Dear One is mine as mirrors are lonely.

The Witch gave a squawk; her venomous body
Melted into light as water leaves a spring,
And the high green hill sits always by the sea.

At his crossroads, too, the Ancient prayed for me,
Down his wasted cheek tears of joy were running:
My Dear One is mine as mirrors are lonely.

He kissed me awake and no one was sorry;
The sun shone on sails, eyes, pebbles, anything,
And the high green hill sits always by the sea.

So to remember our changing garden, we
Are linked as children in a circle dancing:
My Dear One is mine as mirrors are lonely,
And the high green hill sits always by the sea.

W. H. Auden




3 comentários:

Marta disse...

Graça, se a perfeição existisse, era perfeito este poema. um beijo.

Graça disse...

Não iria tão longe, Marta, mas acho o poema bonito, sobretudo os versos que se repetem. Beijinho.

Photoptero disse...

sobretudo os versos que se repetem. que se repetem. repetem.