Com o Sol de feição

Neste momento em que vos escrevo tenho o Sol a "bater-me" nas costas, entra pela janela mesmo atrás de mim. Estou a morar num local que tem uns quintais nas traseiras com bastante vegetação. Não sei porquê mas tenho acordado mesmo antes do nascer do Sol. Provavelmente será porque a bicharada começa a acordar e a fazer todo o tipo de barulhos, patos, galos, pássaros, enfim, parece uma selva.

 

Mesmo antes do nascer do Sol começa a Vida a movimentar-se. E eu acordo também. Tal como todos os outros animais.

Bert Hardy The Forgotten Gorbals, Glasgow, Scotland, 1948

 

                          BRIGHT Star of Beauty! on whose Eyelids sit
                          A thousand nymph-like and enamoured Graces,
                          The Goddesses of Memory and Wit,
                          Which there in order take their several places.
                          In whose dear Bosom, sweet delicious LOVE
                          Lays down his quiver, which he once did bear,
                          Since he that blessèd Paradise did prove;
                          And leaves his mother’s lap, to sport him there.
                            Let others strive to entertain with words!
                          My soul is of a braver mettle made:
                          I hold that vile, which vulgar Wit affords,
                          In me ’s that faith which Time cannot invade!
                            Let what I praise, be still made good by you!
                            Be you most worthy, whilst I am most true!

Michael Drayton (1563–1631) - Sonnet 4. Bright Star of Beauty! on whose Eyelids sit

Michael Drayton - Idea. In sixty-three Sonnets, 1594–1619

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“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.” E.E. Cummings