segunda-feira, 25 de agosto de 2008

Mom

Mom

Mom,
We talked about everything,
But we never talked about Death...

Now it's too late,
You have met your fate,
And I will soon meet mine
It doesn't matter, at all,
For the sun will continue to shine...

Above our heads,
Physichally or not,
It will keep on burning
Lively, monstruosly hot...
And I will keep on living
On the sunny, hopeful spot...

And belting out, will exclaim: I have got!

What, exactly,
I simply don't know
Anything beyond:
I will reap what I presently sow

I will weep many times
Before I truly and innerly grow
Purer and simpler and truer
As the crystalline, pristine snow

Which by the red, smouldering fire
Beside the churning flames of desire...
Keeps my soul's unquenchable strength and glow

I can't worry at all, if it'll be fast,
If it'll be slow...

I will reap
What
I sow.

Nenhum comentário: