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"A thing of beauty is a joy forever" é, para mim, um dos versos mais intemporais e emblemáticos da poesia inglesa. É o início do poema "Endymion", de John Keats, que foi um dos grandes poetas britânicos. Gosstei do seu conjunto.
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth, Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep; and such are daffodils With the green world they live in; and clear rills That for themselves a cooling covert make 'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake, Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: And such too is the grandeur of the dooms We have imagined for the mighty dead; All lovely tales that we have heard or read: An endless fountain of immortal drink, Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
O poema de Eugénio de Castro é lindo, bem como a pintura que o acompanha.
ResponderEliminarBom dia! :)
Bom dia Ana!
ResponderEliminar"A thing of beauty is a joy forever" é, para mim, um dos versos mais intemporais e emblemáticos da poesia inglesa. É o início do poema "Endymion", de John Keats, que foi um dos grandes poetas britânicos. Gosstei do seu conjunto.
ResponderEliminarAPS: Obrigada pela sugestão. Vou procurar o poema.
ResponderEliminarA thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
ResponderEliminarIts loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
In
http://www.online-literature.com/donne/463/
Lindo!! Que bonito!
ResponderEliminar