tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146357643684858664.post8974004335334739639..comments2023-09-25T05:35:51.044-03:00Comments on Pó&teias: Ninguém Perde SemprePó & Teiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15206900329576381723noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146357643684858664.post-26434797534652262432012-07-13T00:49:48.790-03:002012-07-13T00:49:48.790-03:00que baita poema!!
foi um prazer e uma lição traduz...que baita poema!!<br />foi um prazer e uma lição traduzir isso aí.<br /><br />ainda que fracassando completamente, os obstinados de espírito são o sal da terra - e herdarão o Reino Impossível da Poesia. amém.rodrigo madeirahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02967111083406665182noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9146357643684858664.post-55570039871562020052012-07-10T17:28:45.821-03:002012-07-10T17:28:45.821-03:00Poema Original:
"nobody loses all the time&...Poema Original:<br /><br /><br />"nobody loses all the time"<br /><br />i had an uncle named<br />Sol who was a born failure and<br />nearly everybody said he should have gone<br />into vaudeville perhaps because my Uncle Sol could<br />sing McCann He Was A Diver on Xmas Eve like Hell Itself which<br />may or may not account for the fact that my Uncle<br /><br />Sol indulged in that possibly most inexcusable<br />of all to use a highfalootin phrase<br />luxuries that is or to<br />wit farming and be<br />it needlessly<br />added<br /><br />my Uncle Sol's farm<br />failed because the chickens<br />ate the vegetables so<br />my Uncle Sol had a<br />chicken farm till the<br />skunks ate the chickens when<br /><br />my Uncle Sol<br />had a skunk farm but<br />the skunks caught cold and<br />died and so<br />my Uncle Sol imitated the<br />skunks in a subtle manner<br /><br />or by drowning himself in the watertank<br />but somebody who'd given my Uncle Sol a Victor<br />Victrola and records while he lived presented to<br />him upon the auspicious occasion of his decease a<br />scrumptious not to mention splendiferous funeral with<br />tall boys in black gloves and flowers and everything and<br /><br />i remember we all cried like the Missouri<br />when my Uncle Sol's coffin lurched because<br />somebody pressed a button<br />(and down went<br />my uncle<br />Sol<br /><br />and started a worm farm)<br /><br /><br />by e.e.cummingsAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com