"Woodshadows floated silently by through the morning peace from the stairhead seaward where he gazed. Inshore and farther out the mirror of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet. White breast of the dim sea. The twining stresses, two by two. A hand plucking the harpstrings, merging their twining chords. Wavewhite wedded words shimmering on the dim tide."
um poema no pensamento de Stephen Dedalus, dizem-me.
(from Ulysses seen)
Who goes with Fergus?
W. B. Yeats, 1865 - 1939
Who will go drive with Fergus now,
And pierce the deep wood’s woven shade,
And dance upon the level shore?
Young man, lift up your russet brow,
And lift your tender eyelids, maid,
And brood on hopes and fear no more.
And no more turn aside and brood
Upon love’s bitter mystery;
For Fergus rules the brazen cars,
And rules the shadows of the wood,
And the white breast of the dim sea
And all dishevelled wandering stars.
"Yeats turns an old Irish prose story about the king, who gives up his throne to search for beauty, into an haunting lovely poem with personal significance."
do que estou a falar: de começar a ler o Ulysses. ler o Ulysses não é ler só o Ulysses.