Canhoto

A verdade é que sinto mal

não sinto direito.
Canhoto errado
desde o primeiro momento.

Me sinto errado
porque não sinto o momento
canhoto, não sinto
desde o primeiro direito.

Sinto que sinto mal
não me sinto, primeiro.
Não sei o que sinto,
não entendo direito.

A verdade
nasce
sozinha.

Não sei de onde vem.

Something

Something

1. Smile

I.

Poor are the humans

‘cause they don’t choose what they will be.

They are trans-passed by passions,

by distractions,

by involuntary seeds

of attraction.

The happenings arise in the fields of the lack of power

and make ourselves out of control.

The motivation transforms us from within,

and to the soul love becomes tyranny.

When a smile is a smile is a smile...

II.

It would be easier if it was close

to the peace of Gandhi

or to the groove of Rolling Stones.

But Shakespeare reigns over love

and there is in the world nothing more

than love, fight, losing or winning.

When the gray clouds leave

and the Spring comes

with a breath of faith

things come back to their own place.

But there is goodbye in between.

There is hope and there is pain.

There is no lie in a smile

which through memory in the heart stays.

2. Eyes

No one can see

the sadness inside the tears

the painful state of nostalgia

with the things leaving aside

after the leave.

The animal inside

can’t ever know what it means

but only it could see

a whole soul inside those eyes -

and who knows if looking at him?

The things are written in a way she can understand

his strange feelings and its retrospection.

But he keeps alone on those things that are only to him:

saudades. What more it could be?

3. Heart

Without perceive, the heart the wind deceive

while the mind is thinking too much

it doesn’t see what is true

and what it comes.

But heart knows and makes it through,

to put life into a new cycle.

And doesn’t matter the source or the name:

if from the world or from the Bible.

Snakes and apples throw life as in a shove

where every heartbeat

is about love.

4. Soul

To fall in love is a mystery.

To not own oneself is a misery.

But what make us feel ourselves

other than to be lost in the song of Sirens?

The world outside is a cover

and a lover is what make us

beings.