Este poema (duma musica de Baz Luhrmann) já anda por aqui no elastik, no tópico das letras de musicas, mas a verdade é que é tão bonito e tão verdadeiro que vale sempre a pena recordar. Aqui vai o Sunscrean:
"If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.
The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists,
whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my
own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will
not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've
faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself
and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay
before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as
you imagine.
Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as
effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble
gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never
crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on
some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people
who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead,
sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only
with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you
succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life.
The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting
40-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when
they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children,
maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the
funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do,
don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your
choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of
what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever
own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for
good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and
the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you
should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and
lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people
who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in
Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will
philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that
when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble
and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust
fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when
either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look
85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who
supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of
fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly
parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen."
