domingo, 1 de janeiro de 2017

Fazer contas

.

 (isto é muito bonito; o tipo que lhe escreve as palavras. passou a vida a estudar teatro em Atenas; tem jeito para a coisa)

Tradução inglesa:


The people of my life
I sat and counted
the present, the absent
a few passers-by.
Those that came to stay
those that left before they became,
the shared ones, the strangers,
the very personal ones.

And I always find them few
or I find them a lot
and it's the loneliness that's urgent
that is what saddens me.
And I always find them few
or I find them a lot
in a count that opens up
my old wound.

The people of my life
I'd like to keep...
The wild animals, the angels
and the more normal ones.
Those that left a mark
those that darkness took,
the someones, the random ones
the very personal ones.

And I always find them few
or I find them a lot
and it's the loneliness that's urgent
that is what saddens me.
And I always find them few
or I find them a lot
in a count that opens up
my old wound.

People alone that left dust
friendships and loves that took the road
stolen, hidden, secretly borrowed
random, courageous, cowards , scared ones
my people and strangers, brilliant and sad
in relationships, in homes always locked.
Happy, irrelevant, passengers
Bohemian artists, kids with ties.
My enemies and friends, young and old ones
that give in moderation, that waste.
Loves that seemed of value
and others that ran out in a handshake
Poor relatives that serve pre-prepared 
the logic ones and the ones that live with emotion
the logic ones and the ones that live with emotion
the logic ones and the ones that live with emotion...
The ones that live with emotion....
I'm afraid I'm losing count...

Sem comentários:

Enviar um comentário