Hoje é dia de
montaria, na Contenda. O hunting life não é para mim, que não sou
caçador. Mas tenho a obrigação e o prazer de acompanhar a iniciativa. Entre as
7:30 e as 16:00 por lá estarei. Observando de perto estas horas de trabalho e
de prazer em que muito se joga e em que muito trabalho tem, ou não, bons
resultados. O acaso e elementos que não dominamos contam, e não contam pouco.
Acompanhemos
esta arte com a arte das palavras e das cores. Thomas Gainsborough
(1727-1788) pintou este Mr. and Mrs. Andrews em 1750.
I cannot tell you now;
When the wind’s drive and whirl
Blow me along no longer,
And the wind’s a whisper at last—
Maybe I’ll tell you then—
some other time.
When the rose’s flash to the sunset
Reels to the rack and the twist,
And the rose is a red bygone,
When the face I love is going
And the gate to the end shall clang,
And it’s no use to beckon or say, “So long”—
Maybe I’ll tell you then—
some other time.
I never knew any more beautiful than you:
I have hunted you under my thoughts,
I have broken down under the wind
And into the roses looking for you.
I shall never find any
greater than you.
When the wind’s drive and whirl
Blow me along no longer,
And the wind’s a whisper at last—
Maybe I’ll tell you then—
some other time.
When the rose’s flash to the sunset
Reels to the rack and the twist,
And the rose is a red bygone,
When the face I love is going
And the gate to the end shall clang,
And it’s no use to beckon or say, “So long”—
Maybe I’ll tell you then—
some other time.
I never knew any more beautiful than you:
I have hunted you under my thoughts,
I have broken down under the wind
And into the roses looking for you.
I shall never find any
greater than you.
The great
hunt é um poema
de Carl Sandburg (1878–1967), mas o sentido de caça não é exatamente o de
uma montaria...
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