Hoje, vou ter um tudo nada mais de tempo. Não por causa dos 60 minutos suplementares, que me vão deixar de melhor catadura, porque detesto a luz curta do final de tarde no inverno. Mas porque terei outros tempos, algures entre a leitura académica e a montagem cinematográfica. Um tempo curto para umas horas sem atividade autárquica (bom, quase, desde as 11h. já tive três telefonemas "camarários"...).
Aqui ficam, em momento de relativa placidez e sob o signo do tempo, duas figuras do meu panteão privado: Robert Frost e Paul Cézanne.
Meeting and passing
As I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol
Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
Something down there to smile at in the dust.
(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)
Afterward I went past what you had passed
Before we met and you what I had passed.
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol
Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
Something down there to smile at in the dust.
(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)
Afterward I went past what you had passed
Before we met and you what I had passed.
L'horloge de marbre noir (c. 1870), obra de Paul Cézanne (1839-1906)
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