(image by Tugrul Karacan)
Do alto da árvore
vejo mais longe;
eu não posso voar,
o quintal é o meu mundo;
levo vinte e três segundos
para ir de um lado ao outro.
Mas eu estou crescendo,
não vou chorar.
I stand at the top of the tree
watching distances;
I cannot fly,
the yard is my world
It takes me twenty-three seconds
to go from one side to the other.
But I am growing up,
I won't cry.
(To Gui, on the occasion of his 16th birthday)
Yeah, it gives you a punch in the gut when you find out that you can't fly. it's devastating. Well written.
ReplyDeleteI love this, and I especially love the picture - would love to live in that little house in a tree!
ReplyDeleteUtterly charming...contains the magic of childhood and the wistfulness of adulthood.
ReplyDeleteStriking.
"Mas eu estou crescendo,
ReplyDeletenão vou chorar."
Belíssimo* Forte*
Bjo!!
A wistful hope, this is lovely.
ReplyDeleteGrowing is good.
ReplyDeleteIt is like though confined, one can learn so much from a distance? That is the message I am reading from your nice write :)
ReplyDeletehttp://lynnaima.wordpress.com/2011/04/16/youre-my-reason/
Quite charming poem. True. Disconcerting to know you cannot fly ... or, not yet.
ReplyDeleteLovely - very lovely - bog theme.
Happy Potluck!
growing up and won't cry,
ReplyDeletelove that.
Thanks for sharing.
A++
Very nice. Great imagery too.
ReplyDeleteI'm still trying to fly,
ReplyDeleteAnd I won't give up,
I don't know why. Slow learning curve, maybe. Should have figured that out long ago.
It takes me twenty-three seconds
ReplyDeleteto go from one side to the other.
Not a bad rate at all! Such a lovely poem Kenia.. :)
Sunday Hugs xx
A hopeful piece... yet limitted by its boundaries.
ReplyDeleteTambeḿ estou crescendo, e tentando não chorar.
ReplyDeleteAdorei a imagem *-*
wonderful! and i'm wondering, when is it easier to fly -- when one is young or old?
ReplyDeleteas we grow, we live and love a little more.
ReplyDeleteLuna
I really like this - there's a slight oddness at play that's really endearing and sweet
ReplyDeleteReally precious piece that accompanies the image just so.
ReplyDeleteBelíssima forma de crescer!
ReplyDeleteSinto que há muitos espaços que ficaram pequenos para minha imaginação, o corpo parece já não pertencer.
ReplyDeleteI like your bilingual blog and find this poem to be beautiful. Thank you!
ReplyDeletemmmm.. so sweet how you capture the determination of a child wanting to catch up in growth but being impeded by age which no one can control.. here's my potluck.. http://fiveloaf.wordpress.com/2010/02/22/springtide/
ReplyDeleteE por onde andaria o rabo da lagartixa?
ReplyDeleteLindo e pueril.
AMO tanto suas palavras querida, me inspiram desde o começo inclusive para fazer o meu blog. Você é um amor de pessoa...e suas palavras sempre chegam no meu coração. Tem homenagem pra vc no Words are Lost. beijos =D
ReplyDelete