Os Olhos de T. J. Eckleburg num Antebraço

Este ano tenho uma estagiária muito corajosa que tatuou no dorso do antebraço os azuis e gigantescos olhos do Doctor T. J. Eckleburg, aqueles de íris enormes que tudo observam não de um rosto, mas de grandes lentes amarelas. Na pequena descrição, "gigantescos", "enormes", "grandes" e terão de ser assim para que nada lhes escape.

A token of dauntlessness, I would say, could I add words to Fitzgerald's masterpiece.

But above the gray land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg. 

The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic – their irises are one yard high. They look out of no face, but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a nonexistent nose. Evidently some wild wag of an oculist set them there to fatten his practice in the borough of Queens, and then sank down himself into eternal blindness, or forgot them and moved away. But his eyes, dimmed a little by many paintless days, under sun and rain, brood on over the solemn dumping ground.