Tag Archives: poesia

Man of the street

I have never seen anything like this before.

He was lying on peaces of carbon, half dressed

He passed his hand on himself, caressing his chest

Like you do when you wake up

But it  felt like the street belonged to him.

Dirty smelly man, who lives on the street

and doesn´t seem to care

Because he got a whole lot of street.

And we get tiny apartaments.

Advertisements

Encantamento

Nem teus passos.

Nem teu peso.

Ou o hálito

como novelo. Ou

a pele feito correnteza.

E um roçar de braços.

Com a prumada do peito.

E já o rosto inteiro.

Não. Nenhuma palavra.

[Ronald Polito]


%d bloggers like this: