Alma Novaes

 

Emotional redundancy

Without ever hiding you from me and

Allowing me the inner voice

I describe my gift,

I punctuate the past of the past,

And I find you in self,In that look, 

love of heaven,

Only on the slymy saved portrait and,

when you shake your head,

rejecting the name that is mine,

That you repeat inside of you

what debates with you, 

endorsed love,

when in you and for others

You deny me a thousand times,

my fado materializes,

And it's always inside that I feel you

I don't count the distance that

plays against us, nor the setbacks,

And in the window of your eyes,

Leaning between your perspective

and the marigolds,

of a you want and you don't want, 

From a you can and you can't,

That you want me adrift, 

They see you lie, and you play with us 

in the dangerous game of life, 

hiding feelings, what you really feel

to omit, yes, to deny the existence 

that bursts in your chest, 

that artery of lovethat your self is set on fire,

That it's not just now, 

And just like before, intransigence, 

foreign war and urgency, 

you hold on, you hang on to stubbornness,

And the night covers your plans

And pushes your fantasies and youpostpone 

and postpone transparency

From still loving me, hide-it

Between the stones of the basalt wall, 

hide it in the bosom of the highest hill, 

to a corner of dreamlike earth, 

struggling to breathe, deny and defend

and you omit to lie to others and to yourself, 

because perhaps you would like not to feel, 

you reject emotion and choose an empirical basis,

Would you like, by denying me,

That it wouldn't be lying

that it should be called something else, 

and, postponing it, more clumsy becomes

When, in the mirror of the soul, 

you look at yourself, you analyze yourself, 

you spy on yourself, you get closer, 

you force yourself to the trap of lies,

to the abolition of what is true and real 

that love guards and hides, after all, 

love is, of all conclusions, 

the one in which you excuse yourself from flowing,

at the limit, personal confrontation 

and only him, my love, 

when you grow up when you hide, when you guard, 

When you shake and deny,

This love, my love,

It's the crux of the issue you want to erase from you,

from the sight of others, from the battles of others,

of me, of this one who guards you and sees you in the

Conjuncture of the Invisible 

And i know you from the inside, 

like a river, like a branch, like a source

generous, like a restrained heat,

In this brief time 

Where do I write the now!

Now, two clients, the pendants, 

the silent and dark night and the lives of others, 

in the others that pass, that lingers!

Hangs the moon in the pitch black of night

that people pass by, lightly, only I don't pass, 

only my tenderness for you remains, 

it endures in the eternity of all tomorrows. 

And when you wake up, again

My name is Clarity in the Room,

Glimmer of light, truth 

And you go back to cover your head

'Til my name is gone,

let it be forgotten,

around you, at work, 

On the return of the dew, 

in the rush to heal the wound. 

As long as you resist, persist

My name is written,On the walls of your body

grows in the windows of the eyes,

go in and sweep up the trash 

you've been keeping in your cupboards, 

it is not of bows or preparations, 

it breaks up your rooms 

and sit down in your room,

ask yourself about yourself,

Ask yourself about the compositions, 

of the stumbling blocks and the pains, 

of emotions and retardation

And on your shoulder, doubt arises,

if you hid well, if you dismantled the affections

so that no one notices

that there is not a single point left 

to denounce that I have remained in you 

reciprocally, and that it is not noticed

That you continue to populate me, 

afflicted with dreams and struggles

May it eventually lead to death itself, 

but not now that the fire is lit, 

especially while you declare dead what is alive