Alma Novaes
There's a war of love inside me
At the head of the Castle
the men laugh and drink,
Quenching the thirst of meetings
playful, and sensitive
in the fire, the pig turns,
Getting stabbed and gravy
Fire will soon break out in the skies
So is the music.
And the women-girls
who went to Copinga to choose
a new dress, they will seduce
by its predicates,
In the Persian Gulf
Men strafe and
Wide-eyed,
They don't sleep,
drinking thirstily
of the meager and
shallow water of the rain, and
The stomach growls
at the sight of the blood
The family, at home, weeps.
Here, by the fire, the Almerinda
in a 4-pin pot
Cook a veal rice
and crown molding
caught by the two of them,
on the hill
that surrounds
the side of the cemetery.
The womb, mine still bruised
of cuts and stitches,
Of scarred shoots of love,
And you, my love,
carry it in your lap
the son you gave me,
singing the moon and
veiling the sweet mystery.
Time, my love, your smile
and in your lap he and I,
Supported by your embrace
for your shelter this evening.
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