*
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Look, how tiny down
there,
look: the last village of words and, higher,
(but how tiny) still one last
farmhouse of feeling. Can you see it?
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Stoneground
under your hands. Even here, though,
something can bloom; on a silent cliff-edge
an unknowing plant blooms, singing, into the air.
But the one who knows? Ah, he began to know
and is quiet now, exposed on the cliffs of the heart.
While, with their full awareness,
many sure-footed mountain animals pass
or linger. And the great sheltered birds flies, slowly
circling, around the peak's pure denial.- But
without a shelter, here on the cliffs of the heart...
Rainer Maria Rilke
*excerto de composição de Terry Winter Owens, interpretada por Francisco Monteiro
4 comments:
vc não me preocupe: por onde anda? diga-me que em férias...
sem-se-ver
de férias, mais ou menos. E nãos e preocupe. Está tudo mais ou menos bem, também.
Beijos
hum. ok. que se mantenha no mais bem e não no menos bem, vale?
:-)
bjinhos
Vale :)
beijos
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