Wednesday, January 18, 2012

#529


(image by Jessica)


Era uma casa sem histórias na hora de dormir,
mas cheirava a alecrim
e tinha uma mãe 
que cantava na cozinha
entre os legumes
pensando em formas engenhosas
de nos fazer comê-los.

It was a house with no bedtime stories,
but it smelled like rosemary
and there was a mother 
dressed in love and an apron

singing in the kitchen
among vegetables,

trying to come up with artful plans
to make us eat them.

5 comments:

  1. Li o poema enquanto me transportava para essa casa, e visualizava essa mãe... imagem muito familiar para mim.
    Bjo!

    ReplyDelete
  2. What a beautiful portrait described with a delicate artist's eye for the truth in the details.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Lovely, Kenia! Reminds me of the house I grew up in. Simple and joyful and loving.

    ReplyDelete

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