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Showing posts from February, 2014

When the illusion died

When the illusion died There was the void The emptiness The nothingness of days When the illusion died There was the noisy silence of the mind The out of tune insane symphony of the heart The sleepless nights   Grief Pain Sorrow Isolation When the illusion died No past No future No color No movement Buried under words Left to perish in abandonment Never to resurrect Forever gone Amen

The Linguistics of Me

If you wish to know me You must read between the lines Find me in the punctuation Mostly in the comas, less in the periods And exclamation marks   If you wish to know me You must question the nouns Follow the adjectives Ponder the provisionality of prepositions Bear with the intensity of adverbs   If you wish to know me You'll move in different tongues Walk long distances Cross frontiers Push their borders And occasionally Feel lost in translation.

Linguístico Eu

Se quiser saber de mim Tem que ler nas entrelinhas Encontrar-me na pontuação Mais nas vírgulas que em pontos finais Ou marcas de exclamação   Se quiser saber de mim Deve questionar substantivos Acompanhar adjetivos Ponderar a provisionalidade das preposições Suportar a intensidade dos advérbios   Se quiser saber de mim Seguirá por outras línguas Andará longas distâncias Cruzará fronteiras Empurrará barreiras E ocasionalmente Se perderá na tradução.

Some days

There are some days when, to feel alive, you need to skydive, run a marathon, swim across the English Channel, climb a mountain. Some days, to feel alive, it is not possible to just wake up, drink coffee, read, think. You must go to Japan, India, Indonesia, by yourself. You must lose yourself in their streets, listen to their foreign language. You must not understand. You must feel small, insignificant, inside a giant temple. You must not know if you're ever going back.  Some days, the clarity of the sun, the smallness of every day stuff do not bring life do not make you feel alive. It is just not enough. Some days, no smile, no word, no color can erase the stain left by the pain, the loss, the separation. No distraction suffices, no project makes sense.  There is no effort, on these days, worth making.  You take care of the projects, nonetheless. You make an effort anyway. Energies are invested, obligations are fulfilled, tender gestures are performed , strength is drawn from some