Saudade vestida de flores

   Na beira da estrada há um poste de betão rodeado por flores, Flores não nascem em betão, E nem aos postes oferece-se flores. O que se passa? Uma pergunta que toma-me a mente quando por ali passo. Flores bem arranjadas, Flores de vários tipos e cores, Flores ali depositadas por quem ama, Flores atadas…

Pobre poeta

Pobre poeta, Que lhe restou senão o sonho? O sonho de transformar em palavras, O que só existe em sentimentos. Pobre poeta, Que lhe restou senão falar de si mesmo? Expressar com palavras por vezes arcaicas e de pouco entendimento, O seu sentimento mais profundo e mais privado. Pobre poeta, Não de riquezas ou conhecimento,…

Window

Sitting in my safe world, I had before me a window. An old window with its glass already old by the time and with some grime. With my eyes fixated on this single light source and connection to the outside world, I wonder: – What’s out there? My fleeting thoughts at once tried to respond:…

The moment

In a world devoid of significance, What is the gain of being surrounded by people in a hurry? The year, month, week, day, hour, minute and second are useless to me, What really is significant to me is the moment. The most important moments in life occur without an appointment, The birth and death constitute…

A trace of life

Anywhere life passes it leaves a trace of longing, The trace which others try to follow up, Without never achieving it. Our traces are left behind It is often mixed with the trace of others. No matter the direction, Should I go forward and pursue what is now gone? As the old song states, “life…

The house of my dreams

When I earn a few pennies I’ll construct a house,It will be simple, with a little luxuryFor the luxury as wealth destroys happiness. My household will be white as the Alentejo houses,It won’t be square, I do not wish that those living there could think that life can be restrained in a box.The walls will…