terça-feira, 30 de maio de 2017


"Deixo tudo a pairar
se tiver de acontecer,
está perto

Salga-se o céu com mar,
sem medo,
Para ir onde se quer,
não é cedo..."

sábado, 27 de maio de 2017


Sinto a falta,
de tanta coisa...

hoje em dia,
há tanta coisa que não havia.

E mesmo assim,
sinto a falta...

domingo, 21 de maio de 2017


Nunca pensei dizer isto, mas obrigado ao festival da Eurovisão! Por me dar a conhecer, indirectamente, este projecto e um heterónimo de Fernando Pessoa que desconhecia.

I love the things that children love
        Yet with a comprehension deep
That lifts my pining soul above
        Those in which life as yet doth sleep.

All things that simple are and bright,
        Unnoticed unto keen‑worn wit,
With a child's natural delight
        That makes me proudly weep at it.

I love the sun with personal glee,
        The air as if I could embrace
Its wideness with my soul and be
        A drunkard by expense of gaze.

I love the heavens with a joy
        That makes me wonder at my soul,
It is a pleasure nought can cloy,
        A thrilling I cannot control.

So stretched out here let me lie
        Before the sun that soaks me up,
And let me gloriously die
        Drinking too deep of living's cup;

Be swallowed of the sun and spread
        Over the infinite expanse,
Dissolved, like a drop of dew dead
        Lost in a super‑normal trance;

Lost in impersonal consciousness
        And mingling in all life become
A selfless part of Force and Stress
        And have a universal home;

And in a strange way undefined
Lose in the one and living Whole
The limit that I call my mind,
The bounded thing I call my soul.

sábado, 20 de maio de 2017


"I am a series of small victories and large defeats and I am as amazed as any other that I have gotten from there to here."

Charles Bukowski


Before Schaduwland

quinta-feira, 11 de maio de 2017


"Smoke of dreams
They pull you in
To the crazy cities cool light
And the silhouettes that fall from dreams
They are laughing forever..."



"Maybe I listen more than you think
I can tell that somebody sold you
We said we've never let anyone in
We said we'd only die of lonely secrets


I cannot explain it
Any other, any other way..."


A calmaria antes da tempestade.