quinta-feira, 10 de maio de 2012

Carreirimos


Na Grã-Bretanha canta-se Yeats. Por cá cantamos a poesia de Tony Carreira. Eles tiveram um T.  Blair e nós um Engº Sócrates. Talvez isto justifique tudo. Muito provavelmente não justifica nada.


“The girl goes dancing there

On the leaf-sown, new-mown, smooth
Grass plot of the garden;
Escaped from bitter youth,
Escaped out of her crowd,
Or out of her black cloud.
Ah, dancer, ah, sweet dancer!

If strange men come from the house
To lead her away, do not say
That she is happy being crazy;
Lead them gently astray;
Let her finish her dance,
Let her finish her dance.
Ah, dancer, ah, sweet dancer!”
W. B. Yeats

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