Saudades ...

Oi Gentes,

Hoje me bateu uma saudades dos meus autores preferidos ... aqueles que deixei um pouco de lado por conta da agitação do dia-a-dia, pois então, vai lá um q. amo e sempre me faz chorar!

THEME FOR ENGLISH B

By Langston Hughes

The instructor said,

Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you---
Then, it will be true.

I wonder if it's that simple? 
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem. 
I went to school there, then Durham, then here 
to this college on the hill above Harlem. 
I am the only colored student in my class. 
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem 
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas, 
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y, 
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator 
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:
It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me---we two---you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York too.) Me---who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records---Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me NOT like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white---
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me---
although you're older---and white---
and somewhat more free.
This is my page for English B.
1951