Canada Journey

if there are any heavens my mother will(all by herself)have
one. It will not be a pansy heaven nor
a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-valley but
it will be a heaven of blackred roses

my father will be(deep like a rose
tall like a rose)

standing near my

(swaying over her
silent)
with eyes which are really petals and see

nothing with the face of a poet really which
is a flower and not a face with
hands
which whisper
This is my beloved my

(suddenly in sunlighthe
will bow,

& the whole garden will bow)


Poem by e. e. cummings

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A estacao da neve chega ao fim e com ela as ferias, o ski, as tardes relaxadas de leitura em frente 'a lareira e a boa comida. Nesta ultima semana ha que aproveitar, por que depois... Depois sera a corrida desenfreada ate aos exames.

Beijos