UNITED COLORS OF MALINCONIA – On winter evenings, watching gardens without keys, while life goes on, between the fingers

AT THE WINDOW – AR Holst: The winter freezes, and the bushes are already blacks. Would light the fire, if you come back, as then, in that old story of the two of us. But I stand at the window, silent and thoughtful. The winter freezes, the years have passed.

WEAK LUCERNE – Taqui Mir Mohammad: Sadly the evening darkens; My heart is like a lamp dim the poor.

DEATH LEAVES – C. Govoni: My soul is a garden without a key, and my heart feels full of dead leaves.

FRAGILE BOATS – A. Rimbaud: Puddle, black and cold, where, around dusk fragrant, a child squatting, full of sadness, let go a little boat fragile as a butterfly in May.

IN SILENCE – A. Belyi: I accept my fate in silence, having understood the soul speechless, up roar of the sea, and the exploits forced existence.

STEPS – G. Bassani: Life is no more, now, for you, a vanish of steps.

ROLLING – C. Meireles: On the edge of the breath, rolling my humdrum life, roll the weight of my heart. You do not see that the game is lost, as the words of a song. Pass away, between clouds rapids, with many stars in his hand. I wonder what’s the thread Tree, which rolls on my heart.

BETWEEN FINGERS – R. Rebora: Life, today recalls the distant leaves of autumn trees, it carries the form, between the fingers.