Saddam

Porque a falta de vontade de dormir (seria insônia?) me traz às letras. E porque resta o sentimento de que a comparação entre os tiranos de antigamente e os de hoje não é válida. Mas enfim, seguimos com a poesia.

Epitaph on a Tyrant
(W. H. Auden)

Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

E, mudando de assunto, pergunto: é melhor a dúvida ou o silêncio?