(image by deep_south88)
Essas linhas
não se traduzem.
Doze leituras diferentes
do mesmo coração
ainda falham em explicar
os espaços quietos e solitários
nas horas ruidosas que nos separam.
Crooked Poetry Crooked Poetry Crooked Poetry
não há linhas tortas que expliquem a imensidão que habita num coração, né?
ReplyDeletelindo poema, Kenia!
beijo pra ti
Felizmente ainda há coisas inexplicáveis e imensuráveis. Poucas talvez, nesses tempos em que tudo é dosagem de serotonina, endorfina, adrenalina... cajuína, existirmos a que será que se destina?...
ReplyDeleteBeijo, Kenia.
Não há especialistas para saúde da alma.
ReplyDeleteThe most important things are beyond measure. A beautiful piece in my ears.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem. When I read it, I feel the yearning to be with one greatly loved.
ReplyDeleteOh, I knew I would love this...and I read greedily to get to those words into my heart. You are the master of the powerful image and strong emotion in very few lines.
ReplyDeleteloved it! beautifully crafted.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully done, and it speaks volumes in those few perfect lines.
ReplyDeletei tip over and fall into your strong end.
ReplyDelete:)
this feels like the pinpoint end of a long conversation with oneself. brilliantly directed. (i can *almost* read it in the portugese... where it has a more intense feel.)
ReplyDelete.. thundering hours...
beautiful
That is absolutely beautiful! :-)
ReplyDeleteHi! I am a lurker out here. Been months your words have tantalized me with their magic. Had to drop in and let you know. Are you published? if not.. you got to! you write amazingly well.
ReplyDeleteAm a confirmed fan of yours :)