o não das coisas

Metropolis vampires,

here I am,

a new angel on fire

for you!

Apparently pure and innocent

until you feel

my inner essence.

Inverse conversion.

Nothingness

Variação do poema “Nada”.

Mine is the name

of all aborted,

seeds of no deeds.

I’m not in my name,

but in dead adjectives.

Shapeless abyss between the wonder

and the unspeakably lame.

My name is a moment

in the face of the ordinary,

an almost nothing

in the cosmic shame.

To a musician

Variação do poema “Epitáfio a um músico”.

Drops of music

fill the sea of my soul,

heaving its surface.

A god’s heartbeat is the rhythm

of the primal sounds in desire,

the face of nothingness.

Mother Earth,

the womb of our universe,

made me what is not

yet.

Shadows

Variação do poema “Pequenas almas”.

Drilling the ground of the being,

being the sun on my back,

I sowed the shadow.

Shy to light,

a doomful dark rose bloomed

to die when,

even for an instant,

illumination.

Nearby

lies philosophy,

in the quiet quietness of this pain.

Rest words,

these minute souls

mocking the world.

This

Versão do poema “Este”.

I see those who live for the women,

Those others for the men,

And many others

Living life in vain.

I see this myself born when,

To sleep mornings

And be a man

Later, while those who labor, rest

Then.

This myself who’s not tempted,

In the bizarre field of human deeds,

By any doing,

In the mysterious landscape of love,

By any easy feeling,

In the wild view of the universe,

By any safe ground.

In the concrete being of the objects in orgy,

Only the ineffable

Marching,

Carelessly.