Um grande nada

XV

"daca dragoste nu e, nimic nu e"

Marin Preda (1922-1980)

De William Shakespeare a Lord Byron, de Walter Ralleigh a John Keats, de Lennon a Marley, já tão grandes escreveram sobre o amor, e nos deixaram um património de sonhos e emoções tão vasto, homenagens tão profusas a essa inequívoca necessidade de amar, capazes de nos acender por dentro essa magia viva... ainda assim, é algo de que nos temos esquecido, na pressa dos dias, de sentir.

A mim, resta-me a constatação de que sem Amor somos só:
- Um grande nada!

Come away, come, sweet love,

The golden morning breaks,

All the earth, all the air

Of love and pleasure speaks,

Teach thine arms then to embrace,

And sweet rosy lips to kiss,

And mix our souls in mutual bliss.

Eyes were made for beauty's grace,

Viewing, rueing love's long pain,

Procur'd by beauty's rude disdain.

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Come away, come, sweet love,

The golden morning wastes,

While the sun from his sphere

His fiery arrows casts:

Making all the shadows fly,

Playing, staying in the grove,

To entertain the stealth of love,

Thither, sweet love, let us hie,

Flying, dying, in desire,

Wing'd with sweet hopes and heav'nly fire.

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Come away, come, sweet love,

Do not in vain adorn

Beauty's grace that should rise

Like to the naked morn:

Lilies on the river's side,

And fair Cyprian flowers new blown,

Desire no beauties but their own,

Ornament is nurse of pride,

Pleasure, measure, love's delight,

Haste then, sweet love, our wished flight.

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Anónimo

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