Poderia ter escrito a tremer de respirares tão longe

Poderia ter escrito com o sangue

Também poderia ter escrito as visões

Se os olhos divididos em partes não sobrassem

No vazio da ceguez

E luz.

Poderia ter escrito o que sei

Do futuro e de ti

E de ter visto no deserto

O silêncio, o fogo, o dilúvio.

De dormir cheio de sede e poderia

Escrever

O interior do repouso

E ser faúlha onde a morte vive

E a vida rompe.

E poderia ter escrito o meu nome no teu nome

Porque me alimento da tua boca

E na palavra me sustento em ti

(inédito)

Daniel Faria, in Poesia, Assírio & Alvim (edição de Vera Vouga)

PROFECIA

Abriu-se a porta e o tempo saiu vestido de branco -
- todas as noites uma estrela caminhará,
alguma há-de acertar com a rota já esquecida.

Mas os homens, se isto virem, julgarão que o mundo acaba.

Jorge de Sena, in Post-Scriptum II, Imprensa Nacional/Casa da Moeda, 1985

Read this book in 2 months or the words will disappear, aqui

It's four in the morning, the end of December 
I'm writing you now just to see if you're better 
New York is cold, but I like where I'm living 
There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening. 
I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert 
You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record. 

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair 
She said that you gave it to her 
That night that you planned to go clear 
Did you ever go clear? 

Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older 
Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder 
You'd been to the station to meet every train 
And you came home without Lili Marlene 

And you treated my woman to a flake of your life 
And when she came back she was nobody's wife. 

Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth 
One more thin gypsy thief 
Well I see Jane's awake -- 

She sends her regards. 

And what can I tell you my brother, my killer 
What can I possibly say? 
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you 
I'm glad you stood in my way. 

If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me 
Your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free. 

Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes 
I thought it was there for good so I never tried. 

And Jane came by with a lock of your hair 
She said that you gave it to her 
That night that you planned to go clear -- 

Sincerely, L. Cohen 

"Tenho de repor os meus sonhos"

Mouriscas, 2012