10 janeiro 2010


a thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
its lovliness 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-darkn'd 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;
an endless fountain of immortal drink,
pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

de John Keats. mais aqui e aqui.

curioso apanhar neste filme, umas das minhas músicas de 2009.
mais aqui.

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