domingo, 9 de agosto de 2009

Poema do domingo


Tea leaves thwart those who court catastrophe,
designing futures where nothing will occur:
cross the gypsy’s palm and yawning she
will still predict no perils left to conquer.
Jeopardy is jejune now: naïve knight
finds ogres out-of-date and dragons unheard
of, while blasé princesses indict
tilts at terror as downright absurd.

The beast in Jamesian grove will never jump,
compelling hero’s dull career to crisis;
and when insouciant angels play God’s trump,
while bored arena crowds for once look eager,
hoping toward havoc, neither pleas nor prizes
shall coax from doom’s blank door lady or tiger.

Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)

5 comentários:

c* disse...

ih, chose se olhando no espelho...

Mr X disse...

espelho espelho meu
existe alguém mais tolo do que eu?

c* disse...

existe !!
eu, que nao perco um poema seu...:-))

Mr X disse...

Tou deprê, comfetti. Tem um antidepressivo aí? :-P

c* disse...

tenho mon amour ! fazer sexo !!

podemos tbm telefonar pro fabio marton...ele é lucido e sem ilusoes...