sexta-feira, 20 de fevereiro de 2009


Poem by Tamara Ramos
English version by Isabela Madeira
To Mark.

Spare me of your obscure discourse
concealed in the abyss of fear,
Your senseless ideas of life,
Starve for horror and grudge.

Free me from the same old tasteless song,
of which endless refrains crash my steeled ear drums.
Bury your morbid illusion from Paradise,
as if beyond this living Horizon,
something better would rise.

Don't say a thing meanwhile your words are empty,
and your heart corrupted by elected years of pain.
Don't speak poorly of my Country,
of my people,
of my friends.
Do not speak of what you don't know,
Don't speak in vain.

I refuse to hear about limits,
about the past,
about abandonment,
and indifference.

Reinvent your ill verb,
and you will see me happy,
open to life,
and to love again.