Este é o poema de Dylan Thomas de que iremos partir, e sobre o qual podem encontrar mais informações aqui: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Do_not_go_gentle_into_that_good_night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Veremos também um poema de Landeg White (http://landegwhite.com/), poema contemporâneo que toma como mote o título de Dylan Thomas:
DO NOT GO GENTLE
is a young man’s poem:
it was his own death he raged against
‘going’ too soon after. But rage
is a siren rhyme,
and no one cares about an old man’s anger.
The trick’s to keep things light, as
this three score years and ten business
lets you watch those who upstaged you
be upstaged in their turn. Knowing,
meanwhile, far more than the kids who are,
you’re no longer in charge of things,
so are called upon to be wise,
a word I never took seriously
till I found it means a man whose jokes,
exhumed from a lifetime’s plagiarism,
the young repeat as their own.
Going gentle’s indeed what I advise,
leaving behind some decent recipes
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