Monday, July 10, 2006
The End’s song sung now
(March 1976)
Day will come when you will say, with me,
In choir with the humanity:
Quietness took account of my being...
Happiness beat to my door...
They had ceased, the torments,
They are mine, the days and nights.
My time is pure and clean,
Free of the specters that had populated it.
Unnecessary to speak,
Therefore nobody has to hear,
And absolute silence does not deserve to be
broken...
Cold is my house,
As I always desired it.
The wind no more fustigates my life,
Only survives a carrying breeze of parfumes of ancient times…
Across obstructed channels of sex
Only echoes of a time of
Hunger and high prices,
Necessity and scarcity,
Deposit of hormones in ruins.
In the palate, no more that
Ancient anxiety,
But a wasteland taste... and good!
The taste of the planet.
My heart is a calm heart,
Because an empty heart,
That holds the biggest emptiness:
Love, volatilized;
The sting of hate, down;
The thirst of death, satisfied!
Day will come when you will say, with me,
In choir with the humanity:
Quietness took account of my being...
Happiness beat to my door...
They had ceased, the torments,
They are mine, the days and nights.
My time is pure and clean,
Free of the specters that had populated it.
Unnecessary to speak,
Therefore nobody has to hear,
And absolute silence does not deserve to be
broken...
Cold is my house,
As I always desired it.
The wind no more fustigates my life,
Only survives a carrying breeze of parfumes of ancient times…
Across obstructed channels of sex
Only echoes of a time of
Hunger and high prices,
Necessity and scarcity,
Deposit of hormones in ruins.
In the palate, no more that
Ancient anxiety,
But a wasteland taste... and good!
The taste of the planet.
My heart is a calm heart,
Because an empty heart,
That holds the biggest emptiness:
Love, volatilized;
The sting of hate, down;
The thirst of death, satisfied!
Start Declaration
Idea is to have a place
to discharge all thinks
about everithing,
as well as about nothing, too, surely!
Poetry, no pertinent comments or
great revelations from outer space.
Who could know?
When this will be something?
Perhaps now,
perhaps next year.
It's important that this is here.
From time to time,
things come!
Best wishes to all.
to discharge all thinks
about everithing,
as well as about nothing, too, surely!
Poetry, no pertinent comments or
great revelations from outer space.
Who could know?
When this will be something?
Perhaps now,
perhaps next year.
It's important that this is here.
From time to time,
things come!
Best wishes to all.
