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Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta Philip Larkin. Mostrar todas as mensagens

15/07/10

Sad Steps



Groping back to bed after a piss
I part thick curtains, and am startled by
The rapid clouds, the moon's cleanliness.

Four o'clock: wedge-shadowed gardens lie
Under a cavernous, a wind-picked sky.
There's something laughable about this,

The way the moon dashes trough clouds that blow
Loosely as cannon-smoke to stand apart
(Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below)

High and preposterous and separate -
Lozenge of love! Medallion of art!
O wolves of memory! Immensements! No,

One shivers slightly, looking up there.
The hardness and the brigntness and the plain
Far-reaching singleness of that wide stare

Is a reminder of the strength and pain
Of being young; that it can't come again,
But is for others undiminished somewhere.

Philip Larkin, Sad Steps, in dark matter poems of space,
selecção de Maurice Riordan e Jocelyn Bell Burnell, Ed. Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian, p.65



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