Graduation Week

Durante a semana que hoje termina, decorreram as cerimónias da "Queima das Fitas" harvardiana. Os alunos do último ano, passaram a semana em celebrações várias: um jogo dos Rex Sox, uma visita a um parque temático, desporto e concertos. Aos que já me conhecem sabem que me emocionam estas cerimónias, os ciclos que terminam, os anos que se deixam para trás. E mesmo, não me dizendo respeito, fui participando naquilo que era possível e dava comigo a enxugar uma lagrimita de cada vez que amigos se abraçavam ou famílias tiravam fotos. Em particular gostei do concerto que a Banda de Harvard deu anteontem. Nela se tocaram as principais canções da Universidade e os antigos alunos juntaram-se aos novos para entoar estes canticos. Ver todos aqueles velhotes da classe de 1949 (cujo reencontro também decorreu esta semana) juntarem-se aos nosso graduados foi mesmo emocionante (desculpem lá a lamechice...).

Para terem ideia, este é o hino de Harvard:

Fair Harvard

Fair Harvard! we join in thy Jubilee throng,
And with blessings surrender thee o'er
By these festival rites, from the age that is past,
To the age that is waiting before.
O relic and type of our ancestors' worth
That hast long kept their memory warm,
First flow'r of their wilderness! Star of their night!
Calm rising thro' change and thro' storm.
To thy bow'rs we were led in the bloom of our youth,
From the home of our infantile years,
When our fathers had warn'd, and our mothers had pray'd,
And our sisters had blest thro' their tears.
Thou then wert our parent, the nurse of our soul;
We were molded to manhood by thee,
Till freighted with treasure thoughts, friendships and hopes,
Thou didst launch us on Destiny's sea.
When as pilgrims we come to revisit thy halls,
To what kindlings the season gives birth!
Thy shades are more soothing, thy sunlight more dear,
Than descend on less privileged earth.
For the good and the great, in their beautiful prime,
Thro' thy precincts have musingly trod,
As they girded their spirits or deepen'd the streams
That make glad the fair city of God.
Farewell! be thy destinies onward and bright!
To thy children the lesson still give,
With freedom to think, and with patience to bear,
And for right ever bravely to live.,
Let not moss-covered error moor thee at its side,
As the world on truth's current glides by
Be the herald of light, and the bearer of love,
Till the stock of the Puritans die.