Hoje não me toques,
estou em carne viva
Não olhes para mim
Não digas nada.
Hoje não sei falar
Não encontro nenhuma palavra
Nem horizonte.
Tenho o corpo dormente
Tenho a boca em chamas
Hoje o meu peito vai quebrar outra vez
Vomitar outra vez
Evidenciar outra vez
Uma nova pele.
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1 comentários:
Ballade at Thilty-five
This, no song of an ingénue,
This, no ballad of innocence;
This, the rhyme of a lady who
Followed ever her natural bents.
This, a solo of sapience
This, a chantey of sophistry
This, the sum of experiments, --
I loved them until they loved me.
Decked in garments of sable hue,
Daubed with ashes of myriad Lents,
Wearing shower bouquets of rue,
Walk I ever in penitence.
Oft I roam, as my heart repents,
Through God's acre of memory,
Marking stones, in my reverence,
"I loved them until they loved me."
Pictures pass me in long review,--
Marching columns of dead events.
I was tender, and, often, true;
Ever a prey to coincidence.
Always knew I the consequence;
Always saw what the end would be.
We're as Nature has made us -- hence
I loved them until they loved me.
(de Dolothy Palkel)
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