Acordei com este poema na mente
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
I rise
Bringing the gifts my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise.
1 comentário:
Bênçãos, mano.
Óptimo poema.
Também lês Langston Hughes?
Paz.
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