(image by Stanislav Holý)
É como estar de volta
ao quintal onde cresci
entre bonecas e insetos.
Brinco na grama,
numa tarde quente,
persigo grilos.
Não os apanho.
It's like being
Back in the yard
Where I grew up
Amongst dolls and bugs.
I play on the grass,
In a hot afternoon,
I chase crickets.
I can’t catch them.
This speaks of joy - the kind which remains unformed, uncomplicated and lives in the moment without further expectation.
ReplyDeleteBela poesia.
ReplyDeleteGuarde um lugar para onde voltar....
ReplyDeletekind of longing sad .. yet sweet ..
ReplyDelete