Talvez nostálgico, mas sem perder as esperanças, recordo os sons de minha juventude. Eles continuam a me empurrar para sonhos possíveis.
Morning Has Broken
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rain’s new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God’s recreation of the new day
Balaio Caótico 
Ainda persisto e insisto como um seguidor do “velho” Cat Stevens e, com regularidade, Ele ocupa os sons de minha sala de trabalho.
CurtirCurtir