How Can You Mend A Broken Heart...

Joss Stone - Al Green - How Can You Mend A BrokenHeart

Parabola

Parábola

The  feet of the laborer bruise the grapes
The hands of the poet mend the words
The agrarian feet tread grapes for the taste
while urban hands shape the tongue's 
utterance to receive the acrid rush.

From the toil of rustic feet comes the sweetest libation
From the writer's grind comes the bitterest creation
Hues of blood tinges tongue and feet
Surges of passion of an unlike kind are revealed
The vintner is fleshly bound to the berries he presses
as for the poet, he is left  with the solemn rite
of sipping the vintage and embracing Silenus,
The wine is meant to serve and being served
It washes the laborer feet, but subdues the genius.

Wine is conceived by a violent deed
but Poetry is forged by a surrendered spirit
which needs a rich Bordeaux to pour
sedation in its own fragility
And yet it all comes from those provincial feet
to nurture a erudite soul, trampled soul.

To the beggars dreamers of this world

Under Concave Eyes

He looked empty
but still had some pulse 
No passion, no reason
He just gave a smile, still obtuse
and surrendered to the lion
but the beast did not come.

Peace comes only to those who have met war
Prevails for a while, but not for too long
At times, peace comes from what is no more
like a weapon that simultaneously injures
victim and aggressor.
Don't  stare, don't judge
Do not lecture him about luck
Don't take his pride
but take him out of your prayers
and from your premonitions.

He'll soon be back to his chateau
in the county of berk shire
to greet the gargoyles, embrace the saints,
to charm his courtesans and esquires
to deliberate with his ministers of impoverishment
about possibilities of affluence at hand
and to recite poetry with his pauper sires.
He has peace and pride.
At last, ruling  the border of lucidity and fiction
He goes through any imaginary lines,
to any longitude and latitude he goes 
to carry on every possibility of life
for he has everything and everything is within him.

Sob Olhos Côncavos

Ele parecia vazio
mas ainda tinha algum pulso
Sem paixão, sem razão 

Só deu um sorriso obtuso

e rendeu-se ao leão
mas a besta não veio.

A paz vem para aqueles que conhecem a guerra
Prevalece por um tempo e deixa de haver
Às vezes, a paz vem do que  já não há mais
como uma arma que fere
ao mesmo tempo vítima e agressor.
Não olhe, não o julgue
Não lhe fale de sorte
Não lhe tire o orgulho
mas lhe tire de vossas orações

e de vossas premonições.

Ele logo estará de volta ao seu castelo
na província dos sonhadores
para cumprimentar os gárgulas, abraçar os santos,
para encantar cortesãs e cavalheiros
e deliberar com seus ministros do subdesenvolvimento
sobre os novos horizontes financeiros
e recitar poesia com seus lordes sem-dinheiro.
 

Mas ele tem  paz e orgulho,
até onde governe a fronteira da lucidez e da ficção 

ele atinge quaisquer linhas imaginárias, 

em qualquer longitude e latitude geográfica
para realizar  todas as possibilidades
pois ele tem tudo e tudo está dentro dele.

Mambembe song

I love this song by Chico Buarque! This is the kind of tune I can listen all day long :)

 The female singer is awesome, she has a very unique, natural and soothing voice , very  different from current voice styles. I can't stand the computer synthesized vocal type.

I don't know if people here really know Chico Buarque but I have met a guy on work who was crazy about him. He's got to listen this one.

Foretalk

     I am not a big fan of social network but I am going to give it a try. I'm actually already prevaricating as if it was some highly exigent task. Anyways, I might just post some old stuffs for my brother and sister and some silly verses here and there. No, I don't expect a lot of audience just  the constant virtual  monitoring of my  nosy relatives. Além disso, vou falar um pouco de Português pra não enferrujar.