"E agora?", perguntou a princesinha. Mas só o silêncio respondeu.
Mas algo a resgatou de seu mergulho rumo ao desespero. Um leve rufar, como um bater de asas. Asas pequeninas. Asas que... brilhavam?
There's a cross above the baby's bed,
A Saviour in her dreams.
But she was not delivered then,
And the baby became me.
There's a light inside the darkened room,
A footstep on the stair.
A door that I forever close,
To leave those memories there.
So when the shadows link them,
Into an evening sun.
Well first there's summer, then I'll let you in.
September when it comes.
I plan to crawl outside these walls,
Close my eyes and see.
And fall into the heart and arms,
Of those who wait for me.
I cannot move a mountain now;
I can no longer run.
I cannot be who I was then:
In a way, I never was.
I watch the clouds go sailing;
I watch the clock and sun.
Oh, I watch myself, depending on,
September when it comes.
So when the shadows link them,
And burn away the past
They will fly me, like an angel,
To a place where I can rest.
When this begins, I'll let you know,
September when it comes.
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more
Once I rose above the noise and confusion
Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion
I was soaring ever higher
But I flew too high
Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming
I can hear them say
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more
Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man, well
It surely means that I don't know
On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed around I'm like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune
But I hear the voices say
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more, no!
Carry on, you will always remember
Carry on, nothing equals the splendor
Now your life's no longer empty
Surely heaven waits for you
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry
Don't you cry no more
No more
Mário Quintana
Lá bem no alto do décimo segundo andar do Ano
Vive uma louca chamada Esperança
E ela pensa que quando todas as sirenas
Todas as buzinas
Todos os reco-recos tocarem
Atira-se
E
— ó delicioso vôo!
Ela será encontrada miraculosamente incólume na calçada,
Outra vez criança...
E em torno dela indagará o povo:
— Como é teu nome, meninazinha de olhos verdes?
E ela lhes dirá
(É preciso dizer-lhes tudo de novo!)
Ela lhes dirá bem devagarinho, para que não esqueçam:
— O meu nome é ES-PE-RAN-ÇA...