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■ A 8th Bienal do Douro sem limites
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2002-09-23 | [Este texto deve ser lido em english] | Submetido por Ethereal
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were, I have not seen As others saw, I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow, I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone, And what I lov'd, I lov'd alone. Then in my childhood, in the dawn Of the most stormy life was drawn From every depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain, From the sun that round me roll'd In its autumn tint of gold, From the twilight in the sky, As it pass'd me flying by, From the thunder and the storm And the cloud that took the form When the rest of heaven was blue Of a demon in my view.
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