Paris

peônias negras
serenas
quase secas
pombos se aquecem
num resto
de sol
uma planta
luta para
romper a fenda
formigas dragam
uma abelha
ainda viva
o inverno
furta a flor
a cor da fruta
(gestos & acenos
de sombras
não consolam)
a tarde passa
arrasta e deixa
um rastro prata
(Rodrigo Garcia Lopes, "Peônias negras serenas")
Comments
Sunday 03/07/05, 15:11
Lovely. Why didn't I see these shots?
Sunday 03/07/05, 22:38
Thanks, Harry. Maybe you did not see it because you translated the poem and were wondering: what the hell was this poet trying to say??