There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pool singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
Sara Teasdale (1920)
o filme, soviético, é baseado num conto de Ray Bradbury, There Will Come Soft Rains. os russos parece que têm um jeito especial para a tristeza. e é verdade que ninguém terá saudades de nós. mesmo que houvesse alguém para ter.
