sexta-feira, 5 de fevereiro de 2010

I cannot say it

But my heart does not know what happened.
So he sends me these beautiful thoughts,
he tells me to remember you at all times,
he tells me to think of you at the beach,
at the mardi gras, during the solitude of the nights.
And it is not my fault, because he does not know what happened.
I try to tell him, but he does not listen.
Perhaps you should tell him. I can not.

Censura

Se escrevo essa poesia agora é porque ainda ninguém me parou ela só está neste pedaço de papel porque ninguém o encontrou e picotou. Se...