venerdì, dicembre 25, 2009

O LIVRO DO ANSEIO

I can’t make the hills
The system is shot
I’m living on pills
For which I thank G-d
I followed the course
From chaos to artDesire the horse
Depression the cart I sailed like a swan
I sank like a rock
But time is long gone
Past my laughing stock
My page was too white
My ink was too thin
The day wouldn’t write
What the night penciled in
My animal howls
My angel’s upset
But I’m not allowed
A trace of regret
For someone will use
What I couldn’t be
My heart will be hers
Impersonally
She’ll step on the path
She’ll see what I mean
My will cut in half
And freedom between
For less than a second
Our lives will collide
The endless suspended
The door open wide
Then she will be born
To someone like you
What no one has done
She’ll continue to do
I know she is coming
I know she will look
And that is the longing
And this is the book

A BEATITUDE DO MEU COHEN, DE QUEM ANDO DISTANTE, POR PURA FALTA DE BOM SENSO. SE MEU PER'IODO SE ALARGAR AQUI, PEC(CEDILHA)O AA DOUTORA QUE MO ENVIE PELA MALA, O LIVRO DE ONDE VEIO ESSE PREFACIO. A MINHA PENICILINA.

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