Recompense injury with justice, and recompense kindness with kindness.

Confucius

A Red Red Rose


O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it ware ten thousand mile.

Robert Burns

Si Tu Me Olvidas

Quiero que sepas una cosa.
Tu sabes como es esto: si miro la luna
de cristal, la rama roja del lento otoño
en mi ventana, si te toco junto al fuego
la implacable ceniza o el arrugado cuerpo
de la leña. Todo me lleva a ti, como si
todo lo que existe, aromas, luz, metales,
fueran de pequeños barcos que navegan
hacia las islas tuyas que me aguardan.

Ahora bien, si poco a poco dejas de
quererme, dejare de quererte poco a poco.
Si de pronto me olvidas no me busques que
ya te habre olvidado. Si consideras largo
y loco el viento de banderas que pasa por
mi vida y te decides a dejarme a la orilla
del corazon en que tengo raices, piensa que
en ese dia, a esa hora levantare los brazos
y saldran mis raices a buscar otra tierra.

Pero si cada dia cada hora sientes que
a mi estas destinada con dulzura implacable.
Si cada dia sube una flor a tus labios
a buscarme, ay amore mio, ay mia, en ti todo
ese fuego se repite, en mi nada se apaga ni
se olvida, mi amore se nutre de tua amor,
amada, y mientras vivas estara en tus
brazos sin salir de los mios.

Pablo Neruda

On Going Unnoticed

Robert Frost As vain to raise a voice as a sigh In the tumult of free leaves on high. What are you in the shadow of trees Engaged up there with the light and breeze? Less than the coral-root you know That is content with the daylight low, And has no leaves at all of its own; Whose spotted flowers hang meanly down. You grasp the bark by a rugged pleat, And look up small from the forest's feet. The only leaf it drops goes wide, Your name not written on either side. You linger your little hour and are gone, And still the wood sweep leafily on, Not even missing the coral-root flower You took as a trophy of the hour.

Quem comete uma injustiça é sempre mais infeliz que o injustiçado.

Platão