Philip Larkin
High Windows
When I see a couple of kids
And guess he's fucking her and she's
Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm,
I know this is paradise
Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives--
Bonds and gestures pushed to one side
Like an outdated combine harvester,
And everyone young going down the long slide
To happiness, endlessly. I wonder if
Anyone looked at me, forty years back,
And thought, That'll be the life;
No God any more, or sweating in the dark
About hell and that, or having to hide
What you think of the priest. He
And his lot will all go down the long slide
Like free bloody birds. And immediately
Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:
The sun-comprehending glass,
And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.
Philip Larlin, High Windows, 1974 (existe edição bilingue na Cotovia)
Etiquetas: transcrições
posted by William at 6:17 da tarde
1 Comments:
SYMPATHY IN WHITE MAJOR
When I drop four cubes of ice
Chimingly in a glass, and add
Three goes of gin, a lemon slice,
And let a ten-ounce tonic void
In foaming gulps until it smoothers
Everything else, up to the edge,
I lift the lot in private pledge:
He devoted his life to others.
While other people wore like clothes
The human beings in their days
I set myself to bring to those
Who thought I could the lost display;
It didn’t work for them or me,
But all concerned were nearer this
(Or so we thought) to all the fuss
Than if we’d missed it separately.
A decent chap, a real good sort,
Straight as a die, one of the best,
A brick, a trump, a proper sport,
Head and shoulders above the rest;
How many lives would have been duller
Had he not been here below?
Here’s to the whitest man I know-
Though white is not my favourite colour.
Que bom um gin-tonic em boa companhia!
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