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#divina
Durante os dias mais frios do poderoso inverno Pense numa primavera doce e sonhe com um verão ameno Durante as horas mais duras da noite de inverno Pense em flores e sonhe com uma luz solar mavioso. A estação chega, fica um tempo e depois foge A vida passa por um acontecimento circular como a abelha Como os raios da lua a dançar à volta da Mãe Terra Para a encantar, abrace-a e beije-a até à morte. No meio do inverno profundo, pense numa primavera divina E sonhos de dias de verão brilhantes e sensuais Nunca se sinta desesperado e pessimista em relação a nada. Há sempre dias melhores e noites gloriosas pela frente Mantenha-se positivo e resiliente enquanto a sua cabeça estiver presente Pense bem e sonhe com raios de sol mais quentes. P.S. Tradução de: Thinking of Divine Spring in Portuguese. Copyright © Janeiro 2025, Hébert Logerie, Todos os direitos reservados Hébert Logerie é autor de vários livros de poesia.
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Jan 15, 2025
Jan 15, 2025 at 5:42 PM UTC
60Etncelles60
Pensando Numa Primavera Divina
Durante os dias mais frios do poderoso inverno Pense numa primavera doce e sonhe com um verão ameno Durante as horas mais duras da noite de inverno Pense em flores e sonhe com uma luz solar mavioso. A estação chega, fica um tempo e depois foge A vida passa por um acontecimento circular como a abelha Como os raios da lua a dançar à volta da Mãe Terra Para a encantar, abrace-a e beije-a até à morte. No meio do inverno profundo, pense numa primavera divina E sonhos de dias de verão brilhantes e sensuais Nunca se sinta desesperado e pessimista em relação a nada. Há sempre dias melhores e noites gloriosas pela frente Mantenha-se positivo e resiliente enquanto a sua cabeça estiver presente Pense bem e sonhe com raios de sol mais quentes. P.S. Tradução de: Thinking of Divine Spring in Portuguese. Copyright © Janeiro 2025, Hébert Logerie, Todos os direitos reservados Hébert Logerie é autor de vários livros de poesia.
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17
Last night I was tracing my face. I felt my hollow eye sockets, my skull with all its details—my bones. I could feel all my bones. Just the mere thought of fully realizing that I am a walking skeleton and this flesh is nothing but a costume, waiting to be eaten by worms until it unravels what's beneath. But neither of them is who I actually am. My mind is a restless, vast universe shaped by concepts, thoughts, lives, different versions of existence, wide ranges of experiences, uncountable levels of perceptions. Fluid and formless. Yet, to be reduced into something static? When I look at my vague image in the mirror, I get stunned by the fact that this is what people get to perceive; this is the vessel that contains the deep oceans of my inner viscerality. I feel betrayed. Maybe because who I am physically does not reflect my inner depth. It rather resembles my father's face,or is it his mother's? Or her mother's? Perhaps it's not what I believe it to be. I didn't own it, nor did I choose it. I've always felt this gap between my consciousness and my external state—the one that belongs to tangibility, the one they can easily define and label—while I feel boundless. My body and mind are two separated entities that don't belong to each other. And that incoherence! I can feel it tremendously.
0
Jan 8
Jan 8, 2026 at 11:06 AM UTC
VieNoir
Scrapes of Mind ( Midnight Sessions)
Last night I was tracing my face. I felt my hollow eye sockets, my skull with all its details—my bones. I could feel all my bones. Just the mere thought of fully realizing that I am a walking skeleton and this flesh is nothing but a costume, waiting to be eaten by worms until it unravels what's beneath. But neither of them is who I actually am. My mind is a restless, vast universe shaped by concepts, thoughts, lives, different versions of existence, wide ranges of experiences, uncountable levels of perceptions. Fluid and formless. Yet, to be reduced into something static? When I look at my vague image in the mirror, I get stunned by the fact that this is what people get to perceive; this is the vessel that contains the deep oceans of my inner viscerality. I feel betrayed. Maybe because who I am physically does not reflect my inner depth. It rather resembles my father's face,or is it his mother's? Or her mother's? Perhaps it's not what I believe it to be. I didn't own it, nor did I choose it. I've always felt this gap between my consciousness and my external state—the one that belongs to tangibility, the one they can easily define and label—while I feel boundless. My body and mind are two separated entities that don't belong to each other. And that incoherence! I can feel it tremendously.
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4