DARKENED NOTEBOOK, THE LINES

The summer is out of fall.
The night is cold like desert in the West,
but suitable. The wind is just.
And the clouds, all departed; but the boats
are ceiling in the Ocean, two
with no sails. The stars are blessing
the One. And the One
is a billions.

Airplane.

And the city is tranquil,
while I don´t talk.

The Moon...
what I tell...


"

Hey, sleeping of thanks!
And of tanks.

Invisible spider-webs
in the armour.

Everything is peaceful.


"


Cold is a dress,
a robe,
in the northwest.

Crown is the Moon -
descends a pyramid
long to the bottom of clouds
so thin.

Between the Moon and the clouds
it´s Nothing
full of meaning.

"

O, presence of the Maid
How long have you been
so long to travel

Who are the four little angels
clouds
at your side,
so gentle

And the bottom of your cloak it flocks

"

It passes
(better think it passed)

It goes
(better think it came)

Till never
(better think till ever)

"

The scent of the flowers gone.
The muse of the Time,
ressurect.

a "lay"

Everywhen I see your face,
it comes a noise inside my head.
At seeing a passers-close meaning,
I see enjoy of you, and climb
the distances from your home.
It goes so bright,
it comes.

"Inseglet"

A dor, agora

A dor, agora,
nada contra a corrente.

A dor, agora
finda

Semos qualquer desar
de estarmos fartos
- como a cigarra,
levantemos os braços.

Eita; como crestou o diamante,
até tornar-se vidro
E como alicerçou as bases
a fama sem par da lamúria

lamúria

"Heritage"

With the Sun plainly in my shirt,
only the head still in shadow
but abound to be hotten
like the belly, and the chest.
To be cooked.
Godamned heat,
like thorns in the skin.
Blindly.
And somebody asks me,
what for, the keeping of this suffering?
I answer that I don´t know
when my cold room, delightful,
will be ready.
So I stand against these everything,
protecting it from assaults,
until the work´s done.

"The Three Kings Invincible"

> > >
* * *


They are so invincible
that ressurect
in Marcus roof-top

turning, turning, turning,
as the wind blows,
they throw a many gifts,
invisible, through my window:

THE TURNING OF THE INNOCENT

The long time wasted
increased the strength
of flower.

There is no power than the New
- and the New is ready -
and it dances in Possibilities:

distant somewhere, so close
and so Here.

distant country,
near.

WAONDER

Rain heavily going on
here,
grey in the north.

South is the light blue.

In the middle I don´t trust in the rain.
I think it´s superstition.

(But it rains)

And I´m safe.

If I wasn´t I´ll be delighted too.

The rain it passes.
Quiet and harmful, the clouds.

But they don´t touch the south.
The south is free!

And I don´t know if the wheat is cresting there.

But what if to imagine
that´s a place to sit
the spirit.

*

O Céu.
Sei que estou no Céu.
Entre hastes tombadas.
O anjo,
no meio do nada.