Hoje alguém postou isto no Facebook, há séculos que não ouvia. Conheço umas dez versões diferentes, umas mais sensuais (como a original de Tim Buckley) das mais espirituais, como a da Sinead O'Connor, passando por tantas outras leituras.

É a matéria dos clássicos, digo eu: temas universais, reconhecíveis, a quem cada um empresta a sua visão e pinta com as suas cores próprias.



On the floating, shapeless oceans
I did all my best to smile
til your singing eyes and fingers
drew me loving into your eyes.

And you sang "Sail to me, sail to me;
Let me enfold you."

Here I am, here I am waiting to hold you.
Did I dream you dreamed about me?
Were you here when I was full sail?

Now my foolish boat is leaning, broken love lost on your rocks.
For you sang, "Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow."
Oh my heart, oh my heart shies from the sorrow.
I'm as puzzled as a newborn child.
I'm as riddled as the tide.
Should I stand amid the breakers?
Or shall I lie with death my bride?

Hear me sing: "Swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you."
"Here I am. Here I am, waiting to hold you."