Game of Thrones

Acabada de ver a primeira temporada de Game of Thrones, com um arrepio na espinha devo confessar(sangue frio nunca foi o meu forte), foi este poema dos Moody Blues, que eu costumava ouvir, enquanto adolescente, que me ecoou na cabeça.

 

“When the white eagle of the North is flying overhead,

And the browns, reads and golds of autumn lye in the gutter dead.

Remeber then the summer birds with wings of fire flame,

Come to witness springs new hope, born of leaves decaying.

And as new life will come from death,

Love will come at leisure.

Love of love, love of life and giving without measure,

Gives in return a wonderous yearn for promise almost seen.

Live hand in hand and together we’ll stand,

On the threshold of a dream.”

 

Moody Blues  – Isn’t life strange!

 

 

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