terça-feira, 28 de junho de 2011

I wouldn’t pray for your ghosts in neon

I wouldn’t pray for your ghosts in neon
But your capillary sentences struck me
With hints of ethereal colors
Like crayons dissolved in water.
The long vowels of your lips weep in glory
Stillbearing unborne words of the eve.
If every green stare you gave to me
Killed an uncertainty of winters-to-be
I would clothe my vocabulary warmer,
I would blur the skies with steam of teas.
But what is my faith in your hair
Compared to the drafts which sway it?
What is the strength a branch
Compared to the winds which beleafe it?
If you only knew of my crystal thoughts
Behind the riddles of my reticulated cornea
You would let me share my thirst
With the swans that swim your cataracts.

quarta-feira, 13 de abril de 2011

Knut Hamsun













A fome que devora o artista
Não o mata nem o fortalece,
E o manjar do qual ele carece
Não a desfaz nem a ameniza.
É constante, por fim, infinita,
Não se esvai de pão em pão,
E a caneta que ele tem à mão
Escreve em sonhos quando falta tinta.
E refletem em sua mesa vazia
Uma vela e sua estética sombria
E a esperança de cada amanhecer.
Tu, que da fome tiraste alimento,
Quantas noites e manhãs de sofrimento
Para que pudesses, então, morrer?

domingo, 27 de março de 2011

So it became eternal night

Whether or not
In her cadmium eyes I still saw
Traces of aurora.

quarta-feira, 23 de março de 2011

que a dor não falte
que o trabalho não sirva
que o sexo não baste


por favor,

para que eu viva de arte

sábado, 12 de março de 2011

quando o próximo poema?
quando o próximo passo?

ainda não
ainda não

abra pro tempo
mais um pouco de espaço

sexta-feira, 28 de janeiro de 2011

Arsonist

The wind brought your cigarette
To my doorstep,
The stain of your lipstick in it.
The ashes scattered around
Like the universe in formation
Remind me of the loves you built
And all the hearts you broke.
Should I burn with it too?
Alone in this night so thick
Should I burn for your lipstick?

The winds of this city brought
Your perfume to my nose
My restless nostrils felt its scent.
The vanilla aroma in it
With notes of mandarin
Mingles with the summertime
And the sweat around your neck.
Should I flow with it too?
Vanishing scent the winds consume,
Should I fade with your perfume?

The air of the city brought
Your tear to my cheek
My tongue could taste its salt.
How many nights you spent alone
Having but guilt and shame,
Having but your face in the mirror,
A delicate fruit of rejection.
Should I share a tear too?
If you once cried for me
Should I also cry for you?

Cheek pressed against cheek
We felt reality was so thin,
The salty blood in your veins
With notes of mandarin
Gushed like an endless stream
To paint the night in red.
“Flee from the past now fled”,
Says the watery beer to you,
“Find in him a friend
That may kiss you too”.

And we made that night our own
As it faded from kiss to kiss
Then we held on to our phones
As one holds its final bliss.
Now the breeze behind my neck
And the moon of urban love
Tell me there’s no coming back.
So should I burn for you?
Like the ashes that are scattered
Around my doorstep?

sexta-feira, 7 de janeiro de 2011

Don Juan

1ª versão:

When I have them in my arms,
Bloodstream running at large,
A moment melts into strange colors
And only emptiness follows after.




2ª versão:

When I see them walking on the streets
Like petals in the wind,
I long for their gentleness,
Their ginger-scented white touch.

When I see them looking at the sky
Like flowers in full bloom,
I long for all the blueness
Reflected in their faces.

When I see them laugh and smile
In all their bone-white glory,
I long for the faintest cloud
To stretch under their feet.

When I have them in my arms,
Bloodstream running at large,
A moment melts into strange colors
And only emptiness follows after.





acho que um haiku combina mais com o Don Juan, mas não consegui me conter e acabei escrevendo um poema um pouco maior...