4.3.10

 

The End of the Dream
Black Elk Speaks


And so it was all over.
I did not know then how much was ended. When I look back now from this high hill of my old age, I can still see the butchered women and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch as plain as when I saw them with eyes still young. And I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud, and was buried in the blizzard. A people's dream died there. It was a beautiful dream.
And I, to whom so great a vision was given in my youth - you see me now a pitiful old man who has done nothing, for the nation's hoop is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer, and the sacred tree is dead.

Comments:
sim, meu caro sérgio. os sonhos muitas vezes acabam e a tristeza os substitui.

mas quando nos cansamos, por causa dos sonhos desfeitos e por causa da tristeza que sobrevêm ao desaparecimento de belos sonhos, adormecemos outra vez... e sonhamos novos sonhos.

é assim o destino dos homens e mulheres: sonhar, despertar e contemplar sonhos se desfazendo e dormir novamente, para sonhar outra vez.

a menos que não se durma no sleeping bag, como disse um poeta besta, porque, nesse caso, nem sequer se sonha.

braço
cals
 
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