William Butler Yeats por Carla Bruni

Those dancing days are gone

Come, let me sing into your ear;
Those dancing days are gone,
All that silk and satin gear;
Crouch upon a stone,
Wrapping that foul body up
In as foul a rag:
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.

Curse as you may I sing it through;
What matter if the knave
That the most could pleasure you,
The children that he gave,
Are somewhere sleeping like a top
Under a marble flag?
I carry the sun in a golden cup.
The moon in a silver bag.

I thought it out this very day.
Noon upon the clock,
A man may put pretence away
Who leans upon a stick,
May sing, and sing until he drop,
Whether to maid or hag:
I carry the sun in a golden cup,
The moon in a silver bag.

William Butler Yeats

(1865-1939)

Poeta irlandês, Prêmio Nobel de Literatura em 1923.

Biografia e poemas traduzidos:

http://www.culturapara.art.br/opoema/williambutleryeats/williambutleryeats.htm

Download da poesia musicada em:

http://www.sendspace.com/file/zejrg9