Cheguei a gostar muito de William Carlos Williams. Nasceu a 17 de Setembro de 1883. Fui reler e tomara que tudo resistisse assim ao tempo:
LANDSCAPE WITH THE FALL OF ICARUS
According to Brueghel
when Icarus fell
it was spring
a farmer was ploughing
his field
the whole pageantry
of the year was
awake tingling
near
the edge of the sea
concerned
with itself
sweating in the sun
that melted
the wings’ wax
unsignificantly
off the coast
there was
a splash quite unnoticed
this was
Icarus drowning
LIBERTAD! IGUALDAD! FRATERNIDAD!
You sullen pig of a man
you force me into the mud
with your stinking ash-cart!
Brother!
–if we were rich
we’d stick our chests out
and hold our heads high!
It is dreams that have destroyed us.
There is no more pride
in horses or in rein holding.
We sit hunched together brooding
our fate.
Well–
all things turn bitter in the end
whether you choose the right or
the left way
and–
dreams are not a bad thing.
A Página Negra de Manuel S. Fonseca 