segunda-feira, 28 de novembro de 2011

Like when the rainy fog

Brave Hypsenor the stump of whose hand
Lies somewhere on the battlefield
He was the son of Dolopion the river-priest
Now he belongs to a great red emptiness

Like when the rainy fog pulls down its hood on the mountains
Misery for the herdsmen better than night for the thief
You can see no further than you can throw a stone

Alice Oswald, Memorial, Faber & Faber, 2011

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