Then give me back the time when I was young,
When all my life before me lay,
A constant stream of words and song
Burst from my lips with every passing day,
When clouds of glory hid the world from view,
And budding youth still found it all so new;
When flowers in thousands seemed to fill
The fields for me to gather then at will.
Though I had nothing, what I had was this:
The urge for truth, delight in make-believe.
The keenest pangs of adolescent bliss,
Extremes of love and hate, of joy and pain --
Give me back my youth again!
CLOWN
Such youthful energy, my friend, you'll find
Is needed in the frantic heat of war,
Or when some pretty girl might feel inclined
To take you in her arms and ask for more;
Or in the race before your weary eyes
You see the finish and the winner's prize,
Or when the whirling dance is at an end
You spend the night carousing with a friend.
But if you've confidence enough to play
A graceful tune and let us hear your voice,
Or let your pleasant fancy stray
Towards a destination of your choice --
That is a task for the maturer man,
And we respect you for it all the more.
They say age makes us childish -- but it can
Make truer children of us than before.
DIRECTOR
You've bandied words enough, now let me see
Some action from you both for once.
We could have spent the time more usefully
While you two were exchanging compliments.
What's all this talk of inspiration in the end?
You can't just sit and hope it might descent.
If you're a poet, as you claim to be,
Get on with it and write some poetry.
You know exactly what we have to do --
So hurry up and make a decent brew.
Don't leave it till tomorrow, stick at it --
Today will pass you by before you know.
You've got to grab your chance, or else it's gone,
It doesn't come round twice, so don't be slow,
And once you've taken it, don't let it go;
That's the only way to get things done.
(...)
pp. 8-9
casas que fazem lembrar as Alentejanas, com chaminés que fazem lembrar as Algarvias
vacas brancas e amarelas, ao contrário das outras ilhas dos Açores,
