Poesia (27.7)

olência 

o cheiro do silêncio

que emana das cascas

traz ao nariz

a vontade de estar apenas.

maleabilidades à parte,

segue-se espreitando

no aguardo de mais notícias.

faleceu ali;

porta fechada.

funga o outro lado

da metade que lhe falta

sabendo das cores

com as quais sempre pintou

suas camisas:

veste as águas todas;

insiste em chover aos moldes antigos,

permeia-se sobre si

e dorme

enquanto o amanhã não chega.

Poesia (27.6)

the bed in which my restless heart used to sleep

earlier into the night
may your tears ask no permission
and fall free from temper.
darkness may have landed on your hand once,
but gently pour it away,
and the rain no longer shall fall
from your eyes.
leave the wooden heart you once inhabited
aside.
leave it knowing that burnt wood
can no longer serve you as a place to rest you soft body;
step away, child.
may the coming of age bring you,
and your heart along,
the maintenance needed
so the material that supports you truly
is as lasting as your kindness.

Poesia (27.5)

balk

there was water on the bridge that day.
when leaving the bridge the water was seen.
that has been found over and over
and it will soften your heart again.
do not allow the bridge to be your country.
your land is supposed to be home.
establish firmly your feet on the water,
let the leaves become hair to your soul,
dive into your kind heart
and once again
do not make of the bridge
nothing but what it is supposed to be:
a fleeting moment,
a crossing path
towards
yourself.