A noite de olhos de cavalo que tremem na noite
a noite de olhos de água no campo adormecido,
está nos teus olhos de cavalo que treme,
está nos teus olhos de água secreta.
Olhos de água de sombra,
olhos de água de fonte,
olhos de água de sonho.
O silêncio e a solidão,
como dois animais pequenos que a lua guia,
bebem nesses olhos,
bebem nessas águas.
Se abre os olhos,
abre-se a noite de portas de musgo,
abre-se o reino secreto da água
que emana do centro da noite.
E se os fechas,
um rio, uma corrente doce e silenciosa,
inunda-te por dentro, avança, torna-te obscuro:
a noite molha as margens na tua alma.
(O. Paz)
Sunday, 19 April 2015
Monday, 6 April 2015
I am not I
"I am not I.
I am this one
walking beside me whom I do not see,
whom at times I manage to visit,
and whom at other times I forget;
who remains calm and silent while I talk,
and forgives, gently, when I hate,
who walks where I am not,
who will remain standing when I die."
Juan Jamón Jiménez
Monday, 30 March 2015
Saturday, 15 November 2014
Tempted to
write about love, I try not to. You won't understand it, so I will not explain
that to you. My dark side takes me to unknown paths. Darkness is what composes
the melody of my ''self''. Myself, an egocentric petty walking thing. I resist, but
sarcasm takes control over me. I no longer see. Blindness is ignorance and that, as we
all know, is bliss. My last wish: a kiss. Ready to depart. Please bury my
hypocrisy in Monmartre. I must go, é tarde.
Wednesday, 29 October 2014
Walking by, I saw a tiny canal next to a bench. I stopped for while and looked at the water. There was a reflection of someone who seemed to be a fairly normal chap, apart from the way he was staring at me: Did I know him?, I thought to myself. I said nothing as I felt I had nothing to say. I didn't really want to show him I was curious about him. He came across as being a decent man, but there was something in how his eyes observed things that made me even more curious about that person. Had he been through those unique moments that make you so different and, at the same time, indifferent to the world we live in? Those moments...
Friday, 12 September 2014
Sunday, 7 September 2014
Shit, how ordinary life can be. Silently, one sees the need to overcome this state as long as there is some sort of psychedelic element added to it. Waking up every morning is a suicidal act: nothing awaits for you unless... Honestly, telling the truth is no longer groovy as one's soul is spoon fed by fibs, especially after being fed up with the cruel reality.
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