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Há momentos emque nos sentimos amarrados. Há alturas em que nem toda a força do Mundo nos consgue empurras para a frente. Há vidas onde por muito que consigamos nadar contra a maré as forças acabam e sem elas desistimos de procurar a praia das areias brancas. Por quanto tempo conseguiremos querer amar sem que o possamos fazer? Por quanto tempo conseguiremos querer sem querer? Estamos cansados, não teremos por isso direito ao descanso, a sermos embalados pelos braços que apenas ao longe se vão agitando? (Oldmirror)

You who never arrived in my arms,
Beloved, who were lost from the start,
I don't even know what songs would please you.
I have given up trying to recognize you
in the surging wave of the next moment.
All the immense images in me -- the far-off,
deeply-felt landscape, cities, towers, and bridges,
and unsuspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands
that were once pulsing with the life of the gods
-- all rise within me to mean you, who forever elude me.
You, Beloved, who are all the gardens
I have ever gazed at, longing.
An open window in a country house-- ,
and you almost stepped out, pensive, to meet me.
Streets that I chanced upon,
-- you had just walked down them and vanished.And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors were still dizzy with your presence and,
startled, gave back my too-sudden image.
Who knows? Perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us yesterday,
separate, in the evening...
- Rainer Maria Rilke