Simpáticamente convidou-me para um clube de leitura e escrita no facebook, práticamente constituído só por indianos. Uma honra e um deleite observar a sua imensa cultura.
No jantar falámos de ... gostar de escrever. Ela perguntou se eu escrevia em inglês.
Eu disse que não mas que ia pensar nisso. E assim fiz. Já o partilhei no tal clube de leitura e escrita.
E foi assim: olhando pela janela e arranhando o meu inglês, pensei: há algumas certezas nesta vida. Foquei-me nestas três:
Somos um pequeno floco de nuvem, só fazemos sentido ao lado de outros flocos e nada acontece por acidente. Nothing happens by accident. Logo abaixo das nuvens está o poema.
Nothing
happens by accident
Neither the
trees nor the sea
What you
can grab in your hand for a moment
That is the
most beautiful thing you can see.
There are
hands that cross each other
With the
same way to see the world
And
although we are sister and brother
What really
is keeping us (or not) is the word.
Nothing
happens by accident
Even if you
stay a thousand kilometers high and away
What you
can grab in your hand for a moment
That should
be the beauty to lead your way.
In
everywhere you find friends
With the
same way to see the world
In every
corner a friendly face
Ready to
write with you the story untold.
Nothing
happens by accident
Neither the
journey nor the wish to stay
Nothing is
the same in a new moment
Day or
night and night or day.
Sometimes a
big huge sadness
Is flying
over the things you lost in your way
But there
is always a way to avoid emptiness
If in your
happy feelings choose to stay.
Nothing
happens by accident
Neither the
dinner nor the play
Because if
you are always inside the moment
You can
live longer
Yes you
can, yes you may.
Sometimes
nothing comes to your memory
Sometimes
you feel empty in some way
But in the
next moment you are telling a story
And the
light of your head is there again
Ready to
lead your way!
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário