Teve lugar ontem a sessão promovida pela EDIA, com o apoio da Câmara Municipal de Moura e da Cooperativa Agrícola de Moura e Barrancos, destinou-se a apresentar a solução base do circuito hidráulico de Póvoa-Moura e respetivo bloco de rega. Oxalá o projeto passe do papel e a água chegue. Tenhamos confiança.
A água que queremos é pretexto para este post, feito em ritmo americano. A poesia de um dos meus autores favoritos, Robert Frost (1874-1963) e pintura de uma naturalista americana, Mary Stevenson Cassatt (1844–1926), cujas Red poppies, de 1880, estão hoje no Philadelphia Museum of Art. Por mim, prefiro as jumping poppies, mas isso é uma opção pessoal.
Going For Water
The well was dry beside the door,
And so we went with pail and can
Across the fields behind the house
To seek the brook if still it ran;
Not loth to have excuse to go,
Because the autumn eve was fair
(Though chill), because the fields were ours,
And by the brook our woods were there.
We ran as if to meet the moon
That slowly dawned behind the trees,
The barren boughs without the leaves,
Without the birds, without the breeze.
But once within the wood, we paused
Like gnomes that hid us from the moon,
Ready to run to hiding new
With laughter when she found us soon.
Each laid on other a staying hand
To listen ere we dared to look,
And in the hush we joined to make
We heard, we knew we heard the brook.
A note as from a single place,
A slender tinkling fall that made
Now drops that floated on the pool
Like pearls, and now a silver blade.
And so we went with pail and can
Across the fields behind the house
To seek the brook if still it ran;
Not loth to have excuse to go,
Because the autumn eve was fair
(Though chill), because the fields were ours,
And by the brook our woods were there.
We ran as if to meet the moon
That slowly dawned behind the trees,
The barren boughs without the leaves,
Without the birds, without the breeze.
But once within the wood, we paused
Like gnomes that hid us from the moon,
Ready to run to hiding new
With laughter when she found us soon.
Each laid on other a staying hand
To listen ere we dared to look,
And in the hush we joined to make
We heard, we knew we heard the brook.
A note as from a single place,
A slender tinkling fall that made
Now drops that floated on the pool
Like pearls, and now a silver blade.
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário