A propósito,
Foram-se aquelas horas mortas,...
O tal tempo de desespero,
Sem cor e sem peso,
Que antes de deitarmos fora costuma sentar-se connosco à mesa,...
A querer saber da verdade mentirosa,
Que é a imagem de marca das nossas vidas,...
Ficaram a inocência,
A prisão das vozes entre os gestos encardidos e sem idade,
Que são os únicos que resistem,
E a música dos passos curtos,...
A mesma que bate com insistência nas janelas de toda a casa,
Sempre que é fim de dia sem que nos apercebamos
Paul Auster
Triste poema. Te mando un beso
ResponderEliminarUn beso tanbien
EliminarUm poema tão real , Miguel
ResponderEliminarEstamos a um palmo da não resistência ...
Muito bom- a ler e reler. Abraço
Muito obrigado 🙂
EliminarVery nice poem.
ResponderEliminarI will keep his little optimistic side!!
Yes, its a great choice 🙂
EliminarSuch a beautifully introspective piece, full of reflection and depth. The imagery of time and the persistence of voices and music resonates powerfully, especially the way the end of the day sneaks up on us. It captures that fleeting, almost forgotten feeling of moments passing by unnoticed yet leaving their mark.
ResponderEliminarYou are invited to check out my new post: https://www.melodyjacob.com/2025/01/denim-on-denim-styling-cinched-waist-denim-vest.html
Uau, such a deep analysis
Eliminar:-)
Sometimes, we just need to keep dancing in spite of it all. I don't know why this makes me think of the actress that recently past who was married so long to Oliviera. She might not of been the star of Gone with the Wind, but they had three children together and it sounded as if they had some good times together. Thanks for the imagery and more.
ResponderEliminarthanks so much:-)
EliminarYou have a way of giving us a slice of life everyday. All the best to a creative weekend.
ResponderEliminarthanks:-)
Eliminar