segunda-feira, março 09, 2009

Os dias de dançar foram-se...

... para sempre?

Não.

Há muitas maneiras de dançar...

Livros que já dançaram comigo... Aguardam outras leituras mais aprofundadas num outro futuro tempo...


Livros que precisam de segunda dança em breve...


Livros com quem preciso urgentemente de dançar...


Those Dancing Days Are Gone
poem of William Butler Yeats

Come, let me sing into your ear;
Those dancing days are gone,
All that silk and satin gear;
Crouch upon a stone,
Wrapping that foul body up
In as foul a rag:
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.

Curse as you may I sing it through;
What matter if the knave
That the most could pleasure y
ou, The children that he gave,
Are somewhere sleeping like a top
Under a marble flag?
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.

I thought it out this very day.
Noon upon the clock,
A man may put pretence away
Who leans upon a stick,
May sing, and sing until he drop,
Whether to maid or hag:
I carry the sun in a golden cup,
The moon in a silver bag.

http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Those_Dancing_Days_Are_Gone


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