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quinta-feira, 7 de novembro de 2013

Grow up!!!



Grow up!!!
























  Alarga os teus horizontes  



Por que é que combateis? Dir-se-á, ao ver-vos, 
Que o Universo acaba aonde chegam 
Os muros da cidade, e nem há vida 
Além da órbita onde as vossas giram, 
E além do Fórum já não há mais mundo! 

Tal é o vosso ardor! tão cegos tendes 
Os olhos de mirar a própria sombra, 
Que dir-se-á, vendo a força, as energias 
Da vossa vida toda, acumuladas 

Sobre um só ponto, e a ânsia, o ardente vórtice, 
Com que girais em torno de vós mesmos, 
Que limitais a terra à vossa sombra... 
Ou que a sombra vos torna a terra toda! 
Dir-se-á que o oceano imenso e fundo e eterno, 
Que Deus há dado aos homens, por que banhem 
O corpo todo, e nadem à vontade, 
E vaguem a sabor, com todo o rumo, 
Com todo o norte e vento, vão e percam-se 
De vista, no horizonte sem limites... 
Dir-se-á que o mar da vida é gota d'água 
Escassa, que nas mãos vos há caído, 
De avara nuvem que fugiu, largando-a... 
Tamanho é o ódio com que a uns e a outros 
A disputais, temendo que não chegue! 

Homens! para quem passa, arrebatado 
Na corrente da vida, nessas águas 
Sem limites, sem fundo - há mais perigo 
De se afogar, que de morrer à sede!

De que vale disputar o espaço estreito, 
Que cobre a sombra da árvore da pátria, 
Quando são vossos cinco continentes? 
De que vale apinhar-se junto à fonte 
Que - fininha - brotou por entre as urzes, 

Quando há sete mil ondas por cada homem? 
De que vale digladiar por uma fita, 
Que mal cobre um botão, quando estendida 
Deus pôs sobre a cabeça de seus filhos 
A tenda, de ouro e azul, do firmamento? 
De que vale concentrar-se a vida toda 
Numa paixão apenas, quando o peito 
É tão rico, que basta dar-lhe um toque 
Por que brotem, aos mil, os sentimentos?! 

Oh! a vida é um abismo! mas fecundo! 
Mas imenso! tem luz - e luz que cegue. 
Inda a águia de Patmos - e tem sombras 
E tem negrumes, como o antigo Caos: 
Tem harmonias, que parecem sonhos 
De algum anjo dormido; e tem horrores 
Que os nem sonha o delírio! 

É imensa a vida, 
Homens! não disputeis um raio escasso 
Que vem daquele sol; a ténue nota, 
Que vos chega daquelas harmonias; 
a penumbra, que escapa àquelas sombras; 
O tremor, que vos vem desses horrores. 
Sol e sombras, horror e harmonias 
De quem é isto, se não é do homem?! 

Não disputeis, curvado o corpo todo, 
As migalhas da mesa do banquete: 
Erguei-vos! e tomai lugar á mesa... 
Que há lugar no banquete para todos: 
Que a vida não é átomo tenuíssimo, 
Que um feliz apanhou, no ar, voando, 
E guardou para si, e os outros, pobres, 
Deserdados, invejam - é o ar todo, 
Que respiramos; e esse, inda mais livre, 
Que nos respira a alma - a terra firma. 
Onde pomos os pés, e o céu profundo 
Aonde o olhar erguemos - é o imenso, 
Que se infiltra do átomo ao colosso; 
Que se ocultou aqui, e além se mostra; 
Que traz a luz dourada, e leva a treva; 
Que dá raiva às paixões, e unge os seios 
Com o bálsamo do amor; que ao vício, ao crime, 
Agita, impele, anima, e que à virtude 
Lá dá consolações - que beija as frontes 
De povo e rei, de nobre e de mendigo; 
E embala a flor, e eleva as grandes vagas; 
Que tem lugar no seio, para todos; 
Que está no rir, e está também nas lágrimas, 
E está na bacanal como na prece!... 


Antero de Quental
"Odes modernas - Vida"












































































TITO COLAÇO
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