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Re: a poem [?]

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Could you post it in the original Portuguese too please?

I like it.

Thanks,

Chris

On 6/13/05, José Barbosa <jcmbarbosa52@...> wrote:

>

> Hello to all:

>

> I'm coming a little bit too late now, maybe, but I've been watching

> the outbreak of the discussion about " people poisoning themselves " ,

> and it suddenly brought back to my mind a poem that I wrote myself

> many years ago, although I don't claim to be a real poet. I've

> translated it into English (please overlook the mistakes) and of

> course it has lost some of its original flavour, but I hope it can

> still make some sense to you and add some new insights, if any, to

> the issue in question. I suppose that posting poetry here is off-

> topic, but I thought you could tolerate it now and then and might

> want to have a look at this:

>

> When I was a little boy,

> I'd often hear my mother talk

> About the dangers of the sea:

> " Beware of the sea, my son;

> It can betray you. "

>

> So that was the way she brought me up

> Right by the seaside.

> In other words: in fear of the sea,

> And eventually making me scared of adventures.

>

> As a grown-up, however,

> I began to learn the opposite message:

> Actually it's the sea who's getting betrayed.

>

> And so did fear develop into compassion.

>

> I don't know what to do to save the sea:

> The sea is much too big,

> And I've come about much smaller

> Than the man I aimed at becoming –

> On those fanciful days.

>

> But I know I can risk further.

> I know I can keep working on my heart

> Until maybe I can set the beat

> To match the troubles of the sea.

>

> If not for that,

> How worthy would I be

> For simply becoming whole again

> As if I were posing for a mirror?

>

> That's it.

> Now matter how long it takes,

> Self-healing must also be contagious!

>

> José

>

>

>

>

>

>

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> >

There you are, Chris:

Quando eu era pequeno,

ouvia minha mãe falar

dos perigos do mar:

" Cuidado com o mar, meu filho.

O mar é traiçoeiro. "

Foi assim que cresci

à beira-mar

com medo do mar

que mais tarde veio a ser

medo de aventuras.

Crescido, porém,

comecei a ouvir outras mensagens sobre o mar:

É o mar na verdade

que vem sendo traído.

E assim o medo se transforma em compaixão.

Não sei o que fazer publicamente

pela salvação do mar.

O mar é grande demais,

e eu acabei menor

do que o homem que pretendia ser

naqueles belos dias.

Mas sei que ainda posso me arriscar.

Sei que ainda posso mudar meu coração

até quem sabe criar uma batida

igual à agonia do mar.

Se não for assim,

de que vale curar-me totalmente

como se estivesse diante de um espelho?

É isso:

curar custa,

mas há de ser contagiante.

José

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