20 de out. de 2012

Vovó

In silence,
Sitting by the old little pond
I pour over some Ryokan verses
As arrows fly nearby
I let myself by drained
By the savvy mosquitoes
While memories of you
Keep rushing in
Our last goodbye was full of grief
And your eyes were tearful.

Carps dance quietly in front of me
As quietly and swiftly as time goes by
As fast and irreversibly as life flows by
Though I shall never see your eyes again
They become very much alive
Every time I check the mirror.

In silence,
Sitting by the old little pond
I can see you everywhere.

Lonely?

Lonely?
Maybe a little bit
Maybe a little bit, when lovers pass by
Or when little kids run in tears
After stepping in sharp stones
Or losing their flying balloons.
Maybe a little bit lonely,
When families and friends get together
Under a beautiful reddening tree
To sing, laugh and drink
As if there is no tomorrow,
While time flies by so fast
And, soon, the Sun sets.

Lonely?
Maybe a little bit
A little bit that completely fades away
At the sight of those open smiles
The bright, joyful, innocent eyes
And the sweet sound of their happinesses.
For loneliness melts at these little pieces
Of the vast, boundless, infinite and sacred Love
That, through its own mysterious ways,
Through its unknown and incomprehensible ways,
Sews every little piece of us,
Each and every single one of us,
Together.

Lonely?
Maybe a little bit,
With all the other beings
Throughout the zillion Universes.

Dancing, dancing

Dancing, dancing
To the arrhythmic compass
Of western percussion and old strings:
An unlikely and unexpectedly good medley

Dancing, dancing
To the sounds of laughs and barking,
To the distant jetflow of the fountain
And the wary cries of the crows

Dancing, dancing
To no rhythm at all:
The unsaid, silent and ever-present
No-rhythmic rhymes of Nature

Dancing, dancing
Beautifully and uniquely dancing
Shyly and clumsily moving
Simply following the stream of life.

Vermelhando

Entre a harpa e o koto,
Folhas vermelhas e balões perdidos,
O sol se põe com gentileza
Enquanto uma brisa fria sopra.
Sob a batida de tambores descompassados
E um rockabilly niponizado,
A vida passa devagar
Como um dia qualquer de Outono.

--


代々木公園 (Parque das Laranjeiras)

13 de out. de 2012

Quem?

"Once when Jesus was praying alone and his disciples were with him, he asked them:

- Who do the crowds say I am?

They replied:

- Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, that one of the prophets of long ago has come back to life.

- But what about you?, Jesus asked them back, 'Who do you say I am?" (Lk 9:18-20) 



"Who do you say I am?"