Deve ser um dos mais famosos poemas sobre o amor de mãe. Robert Munsch é o autor. Canadiano. Não está traduzido em Portugal. O poema é comove(avassala)dor.
Love You Forever, by Robert Munsch
A mother held her new baby and very slowly rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she held him, she sang:
I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.
The baby grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was two years old, and he ran all around the house. He pulled all the books off the shelves. He pulled all the food out of the refrigerator and he took his mother's watch and flushed it down the toilet. Sometimes his mother would say, "this kid is driving me CRAZY!"
But at night time, when that two-year-old was quiet, she opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor, looked up over the side of his bed; and if he was really asleep she picked him up and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. While she rocked him she sang:
I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.
The little boy grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was nine years old. And he never wanted to come in for dinner, he never wanted to take a bath, and when grandma visited he always said bad words. Sometimes his mother wanted to sell him to the zoo!
But at night time, when he was asleep, the mother quietly opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor and looked up over the side of the bed. If he was really asleep, she picked up that nine-year-old boy and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she rocked him she sang:
I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.
The boy grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was a teenager. He had strange friends and he wore strange clothes and he listened to strange music. Sometimes the mother felt like she was in a zoo!
But at night time, when that teenager was asleep, the mother opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor and looked up over the side of the bed. If he was really asleep she picked up that great big boy and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. While she rocked him she sang:
I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.
That teenager grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was a grown-up man. He left home and got a house across town. But sometimes on dark nights the mother got into her car and drove across town. If all the lights in her son's house were out, she opened his bedroom window, crawled across the floor, and looked up over the side of his bed. If that great big man was really asleep she picked him up and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she rocked him she sang:
I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.
Well, that mother, she got older. She got older and older and older. One day she called up her son and said, "You'd better come see me because I'm very old and sick." So her son came to see her. When he came in the door she tried to sing the song. She sang:
I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always...
But she couldn't finish because she was too old and sick. The son went to his mother. He picked her up and rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And he sang this song:
I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my Mommy you'll be.
When the son came home that night, he stood for a long time at the top of the stairs. Then he went into the room where his very new baby daughter was sleeping. He picked her up in his arms and very slowly rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while he rocked her he sang:
I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.
16 comentários:
eu n conhecia, nem o autor nem o poema...mas qd vi isto lembrei-me lg de ti e da posta do outro dia.
tb já deves ter visto outra "do género" mas n tão "romântica" lool:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_K-5P_zFM8k
bj meu
ps 1: qqr dia anda meia blogosfera a tentar saber qm eu sou à conta das etiquetas [tuas e da zá] :P
ps 2: tnks ;)
lindo...
Muito bonito.
E pronto, lá estou a chorar. Ó caraças da miuda.
Tão lindo.
Oh pa, estou a chorar...
q coisa mais linda...
Isto não se faz! Logo hoje, que eu tenho a lamechice ao rubro, dona flor!
Tão bonito...
Avassalador, sem dúvida. Eu acredito neste poema verdadeiramente. Acho que não podia ser mãe nem filha se não acreditasse. Há dias em conversa de jantar de amigos falavamos sobre os filhos e os pais que não se relacionam e principalemnte sobre os velhotes que são abandonados nos hospitais e nos lares. Alguns amigos estão descrentes e chegam a temer que um dia isto lhes possa acontecer. Eu não consigo imaginar isso. ão consigo acreditar que um filho bem amado não ame os seus pais. Sei que é naif. Sei que muita coisa se atravessa no caminho, nosso e deles, ainda assim acredito. Para já a única coisa que faço é amá-los!
maravilhoso. não conhecia.
obrigada pela partilha :)
E deixou-me de olhos carregados...
LINDO!!!
Bjs
Flores, I'm overwhelmed !
Gostei imenso...
Cristina
Obrigadinhos, pá, por me fazeres chorar no office!!!!
;o)
Lindo... lindo... lindo...
... mas sabes quanto tempo levei a ler, sabes? sabes? sabes?
Pá já me deixas-te toda entupida outra vez :p
jocas
somos umas lamechas, é o q é. Meninas, eu avisei. comovedor/avassalador. :)
A bela da lágrima teima em cair.
Gosto do que leio aqui. Vou "seguir-te".
Felicidades
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