London Calling

Sonnet XLIV - do tal de William

If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
Injurious distance should not stop my way;
For then despite of space I would be brought,
From limits far remote where thou dost stay.
No matter then although my foot did stand
Upon the farthest earth removed from thee;
For nimble thought can jump both sea and land
As soon as think the place where he would be.
But ah! thought kills me that I am not thought,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
But that so much of earth and water wrought
I must attend time's leisure with my moan,
Receiving nought by elements so slow
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.

Se por acaso pensarem em mim neste domingo às 23:41hs -horário do Bananão, lembrem-se que estarei partindo. Lembrem-se que irei para longe, onde o tédio impera. Que delícia de tédio! Leiam também o penúltimo post que contém Diderot. Se já leram, leiam novamente. E esse tal de William acima é do balacobaco. Pela manhã tasco mais um Sunday Morning de breve adeus. Fiquem com o Clash:

The Clash - London Calling