domingo, 4 de março de 2012


Whoever you are: in the evening step out
of your room, where you know everything;
 yours is the last house before the far-off:
whoever you are.
With your eyes, which in their weariness
barely free themselves from the worn-out threshold,you lift very slowly one black tree
and place it against the sky: slender, alone.And you have made the world. And it is huge
and like a word which grows ripe in silence.
And as your will seizes on its meaning,
tenderly your eyes let it go.

 Rainer Maria Rilke, O Livro das Imagens

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