Dois Anos 

Com um livro, a sair...

Sem site meter, bem escrito, confessional. Despreocupada com o mundo, e com quem a lê, ela e o seu mundo...
Dois anos com shakespeare de início. Segue assim o nº66 como prenda. Que ela não me leve a mal pelo tom triste do amor e da morte em Shakespeare.

Tired with all these for restful death I cry,
As to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimmed in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill,
And simple truth miscalled simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill.
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that to die, I leave my love alone.


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