E como hoje é Sexta-Feira

E até está a decorrer a Feira do Livro, tomem lá um momentito de poesia:

15

I have come so far upon my journey.
This is the frontier, this is where I change,
And wait between two worlds to take refreshment.
I see the mating plover at play
Blowing themselves about over the green wheat,
And in a bank I catch
The shy scent of the primrose that prevails
Strangely upon the heart. Here is
The last flutter of the wind-errant soul,
Earth's first faint tug at the earthbound soul.
So, waiting here between winter and summer,
Conception and fruition, I
Take what refreshment may be had from skies
Uncertain as the wind, prepare
For a new route, a change of constitution.

Some change of constitution, where
Has been for years an indeterminate quarrel
Between a fevered head and a cold heart;
Rulers who cannot rule, rebels who will not
Rebel; an age divided
Between tomorrow's wink, yesterday's warning.
And yet this self, contains
Tide continents and stars - a myriad selves,
Is small and solitary as one grass-blade
Passed over by the wind
Amongst a myriad grasses on the prairie.
You in there, my son, my daughter,
Will you become dictator, resolve the factions?
Will you be my ambassador
And make my peace with the adjacent empires?

Cecil Day-Lewis, From Feathers to Iron