quarta-feira, novembro 29, 2006

sexta-feira, novembro 17, 2006

quinta-feira, novembro 02, 2006


Até Sempre Capitão.

Uma excepção no Ventosga, um poema do Auden,


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, llet the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South,

my East and West,My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good.