15 de dez de 2016

Do pó pelo pó.

"E aqui seus descendentes nasceram e morreram e misturaram a matéria terrena de que são feitos ao solo; a tal ponto que uma parte considerável do chão deve necessariamente ter algum parentesco com o invólucro mortal com que, por um instante fugaz, percorro as ruas."

A letra escarlate. Nathaniel Hawthorne. p. 13


"I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.


I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.


My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil,
     this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and
     their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death."


Trecho do poema Song of Myself. Walt Whitman.

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