The Sun

(Para ler devagar, saboreando cada estrofe, cada palavra; assim se deve ler Mary Oliver!)

Have you ever seen
in your life
more wonderful
than the way the Sun,
relaxed and easy
floats towards the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone —
and how it slides again

out of the blackness,
every morning
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower

streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance —
and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love —
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure
that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you

as you stand there,
empty-handed —
or have you too
turned from this world —
or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?

  Mary Oliver

Poema: Mary Oliver (2005), de New and Selected Poems (volume 1). Beacon Press.
Foto: Sun in the fog, por Marcus Ramberg (Flickr).

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