Keats

   Hoje fui mais uma vez ao cinema. Fui ver Bright Star da Jane Campion e chorei. Quase duas horas de êxtase visual acompanhadas de uma história de amor e os poemas de Keats. Mais uma vez, a vida arrastou-me para olhar para ela. Mais uma vez, fui sacudida pelos ombros enquanto me gritavam aos ouvidos:

                                                                      OLHA!

                                                                      SENTE!

                                                                      VIVE!



A thing of beauty (Endymion)






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.



John Keats

(1795-1821)