When You are Old
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
and nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
and loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sarrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
and paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
yeats é um puta filho de uma puta
ResponderExcluirWhen I get older,
ResponderExcluirlosing my hair,
many years from now.
Will you still be sending me a Valentine,
birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
If I've been out
till quarter to three,
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me,
Will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?
You'll be older too
And if you say the word
I could stay with you
I could be handy
mending a fuse,
when your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fireside.
Sunday mornings go for a ride.
Doing the garden,
digging the weeds,
who could ask for more?
Will you still need me,
will you still feed me,
when I'm sixty-four?
Every summer we can rent a cottage in the isle of Wight
if it's not too dear.
We shall scream and save
Grandchildren on your knee
Vera, Chuck and Dave.
Send me a postcard,
drop me a line,
stating point of view.
Indicate precisely what you mean to say.
Yours sincerely wasting away.
Give me your answer,
fill in a form, -
mine for ever more.
Will you still need me,
will you still feed me
when I'm sixty-four.