Nobody grows old by merely living a number of
years.
People grow old only by deserting their ideals.
Years wrinkle the skin but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.
Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear and despair . . .
these are the quick equivalents of the
long years that bow the head and turn
the growing spirit back to dust.
Whether 70 or 16, there is, in every being’s heart the love of
wonder, the sweet amazement of the stars, and the star-like
things and thoughts, the undaunted challenge of events,
the unfailing childlike appetite for “What Next?”
You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt,
as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear,
as young as your hope, as old as your despair.
So long as your heart receives messages of
beauty, cheer, courage, grandeur and power from
the earth, from man and from the Infinite, so long are you young.
When all the wires are down, and all the
central places of your heart are covered with
the snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism,
then, and only then, are you grown old indeed,
and may God have mercy on your soul.
Years wrinkle the skin but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.
Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear and despair . . .
these are the quick equivalents of the
long years that bow the head and turn
the growing spirit back to dust.
Whether 70 or 16, there is, in every being’s heart the love of
wonder, the sweet amazement of the stars, and the star-like
things and thoughts, the undaunted challenge of events,
the unfailing childlike appetite for “What Next?”
You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt,
as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear,
as young as your hope, as old as your despair.
So long as your heart receives messages of
beauty, cheer, courage, grandeur and power from
the earth, from man and from the Infinite, so long are you young.
When all the wires are down, and all the
central places of your heart are covered with
the snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism,
then, and only then, are you grown old indeed,
and may God have mercy on your soul.
O poema
que acabam de ler foi-me enviado pela "nossa" Virgínia, comentadora
frequente deste blogue e também ela blogger - dona do Cores em Movimento
em http://coresmovimento.blogspot.pt - na versão francesa.
Aqui fica
o original que constitui um bom contraponto ao poema que transcrevi no post
anterior. Entramos, assim, no ano 2015 com poesia!
HSC
7 comentários:
Obrigada, Helena pela consideração. O original até é mais bonito - ou eu não fosse anglicista :) .
Mas em francês, traz-me os meus pais, a sua saleta, o quadrinho escrito em letra gótica numa moldura dourada....há mais de cinquenta anos....
Beijinho
Lovely poem,thanks a lot doctors ladies.
Love is in the air...
Ghost
"So long as your heart...so long are you young".
A
Juventude
Sim, eu conheço, eu amo ainda
esse rumor abrindo, luz molhada,
rosa branca. Não, não é solidão,
nem frio, nem boca aprisionada.
Não é pedra nem espessura.
É juventude. Juventude ou claridade.
É um azul puríssimo, propagado,
isento de peso e crueldade.
Eugénio de Andrade, in "Até Amanhã"
Fernanda
Obrigada Doutora Helena e Doutora Virgínia pela partilha.
Começamos muito bem 2015 com bela poesia e até dá para praticar o meu francês e o Inglês que anda a ficar um bocado trapalhão para não dizer gago.
Senhora,o meu sonho com a estrela Polar.
http://youtu.be/Eco4z98nIQY
E Ferrero Rocher para começar bem o ano.
Ambrósio
Bem haja a "nossa" dra Vírgina!
Um Ano Bom.
Gralhas
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