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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

James Richardson - Fire Warnings

So much on the verge
of flame.
In a hot
wind anything
is tinder: paper, sage

 

feverish with bees,
your auburn
hair, my hand
that glows with a thought.
Sunset

 

or sleepless dawn,
nothing is sure
but what’s already burned—
water that’s ash, steel
that has flowed and cooled,

 

though in the core
of a star, they too
would fuse and rage,
and even volcanic
glass and char,

 

and the cold seas,
and even    
what we once were
might burn again—
or in the heart.

James Richardson - Post-Romantic

Now that it's over
between me and Nature
I like her better.
We've given up
senseless fear,
useless hope.
She's got herself together.

 

Just hanging on, but trim,
surprising, capable,
she shows, toward evening,
some of the old flashes.
If her solitudes,
amazed and kind,
can't be mine,
or her gaze of waters
stirs others,
no harm done.
She's on her own.

 

And don't misunderstand:
it's not yearning,
but the old courtesy
of life for life,
when sometimes, often,
out for nothing,
I stop for a minute
to hear our songs
high up, crossing.