Raimundo Correia

(13 May 1859 — 13 September 1911 / São Luís)

As Pombas...


Vai-se a primeira pomba despertada ...


Vai-se outra mais ... mais outra ... enfim dezenas


De pombas vão-se dos pombais, apenas


Raia sanguínea e fresca a madrugada ...

E à tarde, quando a rígida nortada


Sopra, aos pombais de novo elas, serenas,

Ruflando as asas, sacudindo as penas,

Voltam todas em bando e em revoada...

Também dos corações onde abotoam,

Os sonhos, um por um, céleres voam,

Como voam as pombas dos pombais;

No azul da adolescência as asas soltam,

Fogem... Mas aos pombais as pombas voltam,

E eles aos corações não voltam mais...

Submitted: Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Edited: Tuesday, June 12, 2012

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