Um poema (dessa vez, em inglês) que escrevi para um amigo que se mudou para a França. Não se trata de uma quase-obra literária ou algo do gênero. Serve somente como um desabafo para mim, e nada mais. Escrevi no iPod, às uma da manhã ou coisa parecida no dia depois que ele me disse que iria se mudar. Tenho consciência de que alguns dos versos estão completamente fora do ritmo, mas, de qualquer forma, aí vai...
There’s nothing like a friend
That always makes you smile,
That will cure your deepest wounds
Even if only for a while
There’s nothing like a friend
That listens to what you say
And perceives when you are joyful
Or when you’re feeling grey
There’s nothing like a friend
That never leaves you behind –
That type of friend, I tell you,
Is the hardest one to find
There’s nothing like a friend
That sees you like a person, too:
You have feelings like themselves;
There’s a lot that you’ve been through
But people come and go,
And quickly time flies by,
And when you don’t even know
It’s time to say goodbye
But that friend, that special friend
Should never go away;
You wish you could continue
To be with them every day
And when you see it’s impossible
Someone like them will come by
You feel hollow in mind and body,
You feel like sitting down to cry
You remember all the good times
That you have spent together,
You remember how you laughed,
Despite the place or weather
But whatever’s best for them
You must find wonderful too,
Although that can be very hard
As it isn’t always true
You hate to see them leave like that
And walk away, maybe never to return;
In your mind you feel sick,
In your heart there is a burn
And when time comes to part
You just don’t want to let them go
You feel as if you’d want to trap them
Deep inside your soul
