Ando cabisbaixo,
meio tropeçando na vida,
ferindo as feridas que desbotam o meu sorriso.
Me sinto amargurado,
acabrunhado com o cálice que o tempo me
obriga a beber, beber, envelhecer e morrer.
Desacaçoado com as coisas,
embriagado com o que o tempo me faz tomar,
incoerente, já não acredito no o amor, menos
ainda no amar.
Sinto-me desorientado,
desencontrado me reconheço um estranho,
estranhamente guardo um pensamento só,
não pensar.
Assim, um tanto quando descrente das coisas,
desacreditando até no que deveria
acreditar,
cheio de dúvidas paro e olho para trás(...).
Mauro lucio - Chuy, novembro de 2014.
Visite o meu blog: ocantardosventos.blogspot.com
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Situation
I’ve been walking with my head down,
stumbling through life,
reopening the wounds that dim my smile.
I feel bitter,
oppressed by the cup that time
forces me to drink, to drink, to grow old, and to die.
Disillusioned with things,
intoxicated by what time makes me swallow,
confused, I no longer believe in love, much less
in loving.
I feel disoriented,
out of sync—I recognize myself as a stranger;
strangely, I hold onto a single thought:
not to think.
Thus, somewhat disillusioned with things,
doubting even what I should believe in,
full of doubts, I stop and look back (...).
stumbling through life,
reopening the wounds that dim my smile.
I feel bitter,
oppressed by the cup that time
forces me to drink, to drink, to grow old, and to die.
Disillusioned with things,
intoxicated by what time makes me swallow,
confused, I no longer believe in love, much less
in loving.
I feel disoriented,
out of sync—I recognize myself as a stranger;
strangely, I hold onto a single thought:
not to think.
Thus, somewhat disillusioned with things,
doubting even what I should believe in,
full of doubts, I stop and look back (...).
&
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