segunda-feira, abril 26, 2004
Four Weddings and a Funeral
Mais um filme que eu deliro! Escolhi citar a cena do funeral. Embora seja o momento mais triste de um filme tão divertido, também é o mais profundo. Adoro este poema. Nem tudo o que é belo é feliz.
Funeral blues
stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
silence the pianos and with muffled drum
bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
scribble on the sky the message 'he is dead'.
put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
he was my north, my south, my east and west,
my working week and my sunday rest,
my noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
i thought that love would last forever: i was wrong.
the stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
for nothing now can ever come to any good.
Funeral blues
stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
silence the pianos and with muffled drum
bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
scribble on the sky the message 'he is dead'.
put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
he was my north, my south, my east and west,
my working week and my sunday rest,
my noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
i thought that love would last forever: i was wrong.
the stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
for nothing now can ever come to any good.
W.H. Auden
