domingo, junho 05, 2005

poema da semana

II / Rain Towards Morning

The great light cage has broken up in the air,
freeing, I thing, about a million birds
whose wild ascending shadows will not be back,
and all the wires come falling down.
No cage, no frightening birds; the rain
is brightening now. The face is pale
that tried the puzzle of their prison
and solved it with an unexpect kiss,
whose freckled unsuspect hands alit.

Elizabeth Bishop

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