O LUTADOR

Isto, minhas senhoras e meus senhores, é poesia. A canção popular raras vezes terá sido tão perfeita.

I am just a poor boy.
Though my story's seldom told,
I have squandered my resistance
for a pocketful of mumbles,
such are promises.
All lies and jest,
still a man hears what he wants to hear,
and disregards the rest.

When I left my home
and my family,
I was no more than a boy
in the company of strangers
in the quiet of the railway station
running scared,
laying low,
seeking out the poorer quarters
where the ragged people go,
looking for the places
only they would know.

Asking only workman's wages
I come looking for a job,
but I get no offers,
just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue.
I do declare,
there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there.

Now the years are rolling by me
they are rocking evenly
I am older than I once was
younger than I'll be
but that's not unusual
no it isn't strange
after changes upon changes
we are more or less the same
after changes we are more or less the same.

Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
and wishing I was gone,
going home
where the New York City winters
aren't bleeding me,
leading me,
to go home.

In the clearing stands a boxer,
and a fighter by his trade,
and he carries the reminders
of ev'ry glove that laid him down
or cut him till he cried out
in his anger and his shame,
"I am leaving, I am leaving".
But the fighter still remains.

-- Paul Simon para Simon & Garfunkel, "The Boxer", 1968