Alma Novaes

 

Obsequies to illusion

And you were 

an exponent in love

that thrives and migrates 

to other horizons,

from your fleeing eyes,

of my longing for the hill;

You couldn't understand me 

And the laments are stone

My body, a statue of course

and representative of the life 

that stole our house 

from me in that mountain

An unlucky luck, 

A whitewashed frustration

of permanent centuries 

of chastisement, 

in the imprisoned glottis, 

of screaming,

I've made so many plans 

and drawn sketchy frescoes

I've been to all the seasons

During my waiting,

So many water tanks 

and cereal stables

so many lost battles,

so many unequal wars,

So many images mixed together 

In the vain hopes conquered

and alive, in an open wound,

Storms and calms,

in the great book of life.

In the window of your eyes

I kept the bolt and the strength

captivate my heart

In your body I made a home,

Hesitant and fragile

I was the sweet and meek doe, 

I've been your lost angel

In the brief pages of your soul, 

in the brief coldness 

of your evaluation, 

in the mouth of a 

world in disarray.

And ideals surrendered to ice 

From your sword, a promise, 

back in another life,

in the absence of your zeal,

in the great pain 

already expressed, 

Today I forget the pain

I stultify again,

I just fall into my memory,

more and more detailed,

the window of your eyes,

of your beloved body, 

From my eyes, hidden

begging mine 

that of having to abandone 

your iris, my now extinct shelter.