There are days I think: I can’t stand! I'll give up, my God, for everything! Then, I look at stars without moving to my eyes, resting on the sky. A bird alights, calm and silently, soundless, very close to the tree. Suddenly, it dedicates a carol to the world, to freedom lost in gad-fly.
Many times I try, Lord, to feel that everything in the world is pure, As made of anonymous acts, invisible facts. There’re days when the honey Still for me is bitter and the hours pass, off, and almost everything is insecure, As if I could not see and from my mouth just falling gall for need.
There is not a day that I do not try to see in the other Something immaterial that feeds the life of simple poetry, But all there's on my mind confuses me more every day without purity!
Maybe we’re not ready for so many things overused Or to erase so many candles lit in us with a single blowing together. There are days that I think: just we survive of the power in our inner!
Magnifico Nádia!
ResponderExcluirbeijinho
cvb
Amazing:
ResponderExcluirSonnet for exist (by Marsel Botelho)
There are days I think: I can’t stand! I'll give up, my God, for everything!
Then, I look at stars without moving to my eyes, resting on the sky.
A bird alights, calm and silently, soundless, very close to the tree.
Suddenly, it dedicates a carol to the world, to freedom lost in gad-fly.
Many times I try, Lord, to feel that everything in the world is pure,
As made of anonymous acts, invisible facts. There’re days when the honey
Still for me is bitter and the hours pass, off, and almost everything is insecure,
As if I could not see and from my mouth just falling gall for need.
There is not a day that I do not try to see in the other
Something immaterial that feeds the life of simple poetry,
But all there's on my mind confuses me more every day without purity!
Maybe we’re not ready for so many things overused
Or to erase so many candles lit in us with a single blowing together.
There are days that I think: just we survive of the power in our inner!