Entre a chuva e o
nevoeiro, o cinzento e o nublado com que a natureza nos brinda hoje. Existem os
humores. Maus humores porque não há sol. Com tudo podem, de tudo dizem e tudo
calam, como a justificar a culpa do tempo.
A culpa não é minha por
estar taciturno.
A culpa não é minha por
te responder de esguelha.
A culpa não é minha por
não ter entusiasmo de viver.
E lá culpamos o tempo
pingão e pegajoso, com o frio a entrar pelas partes desfraldadas. Parece mesmo
que vamos ficar de mau humor mais uns meses, até que o sol apareça. E depois
começa. Começa a brilhar quase parado em direcção ao mesmo sítio, a temperatura
sobe tanto que por vezes nos sufoca. Mas então! Depois começa. Está demasiado
calor... Não aguento este calor... Sinto-me mal...
Mas então em que é que
ficamos? Que chatos!
Por mim digo. Adoro estes
dias de chuva pequenina, com o vento a cortar a respiração. Faz-me lembrar a
minha infância. Quando usar guarda-chuva ou o carapuço era um suplício e se
ninguém estivesse ou olhasse desenvencilhava-me desses adereços.
Que giro era saltar numa
poça, apanhar uns pingos na cara e senti-la a escorrer na pele.
De onde estou vejo o
Cristo-Rei, parado, opaco com o cinzento do nevoeiro, de vez em quando o
barulho de uma gota pesada no vidro. Mas nem pensar em ir saltar nas poças e
nos charcos que ficam com os carros a passar ou apanhar chuva no cabelo.
Que pena!
Between the rain and fog, gray and overcast with what nature offers us today. There are moods . Bad moods because there is no sun. Everything can said and everything can be silent to justify the guilt of the weather.
This is not my fault for being taciturn.The fault is not mine to answer you slant.This is not my fault for not having enthusiasm for living .
And there we blame the trickle and sticky weather, the cold enter through unfurled clothes. It really seems like we get a few more months sulking, until the sun comes up. And then begins. Begins to glow almost stopped towards the same place, the temperature rises so much that sometimes chokes us. But then! Then begins. It's too hot ... I can not stand this heat ... I feel bad ...
But then where does that leave us? What bored people!
Why? I say. I love these days of little rain, with the wind breathtaking. It reminds me of my childhood. When using umbrella or hoody was a torture and if nobody was looking or be the I unravel of these props.
It was turning into a puddle jump, catch a few drops on the face and feel it dripping on the skin.
From where I see the Cristo-Rei, standing, with opaque gray fog, occasionally the sound of a heavy drop in the glass. But not even think about going to jump in puddles and ponds that are the cars to pass or catch rain in her hair.
What a pity!
Between the rain and fog, gray and overcast with what nature offers us today. There are moods . Bad moods because there is no sun. Everything can said and everything can be silent to justify the guilt of the weather.
This is not my fault for being taciturn.The fault is not mine to answer you slant.This is not my fault for not having enthusiasm for living .
And there we blame the trickle and sticky weather, the cold enter through unfurled clothes. It really seems like we get a few more months sulking, until the sun comes up. And then begins. Begins to glow almost stopped towards the same place, the temperature rises so much that sometimes chokes us. But then! Then begins. It's too hot ... I can not stand this heat ... I feel bad ...
But then where does that leave us? What bored people!
Why? I say. I love these days of little rain, with the wind breathtaking. It reminds me of my childhood. When using umbrella or hoody was a torture and if nobody was looking or be the I unravel of these props.
It was turning into a puddle jump, catch a few drops on the face and feel it dripping on the skin.
From where I see the Cristo-Rei, standing, with opaque gray fog, occasionally the sound of a heavy drop in the glass. But not even think about going to jump in puddles and ponds that are the cars to pass or catch rain in her hair.
What a pity!
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