Desideratum, by Gil Gonçalves

(to

Patricia Martinelli)

You are sad

inconsolable

uncomfortable

I don't find more

the silences

of their enigmas

looks

You are of future

sulky

You are to navigate

far away from the sea

in the dryness of the time

and of finding

look

Certainly it desires

medicine for all of the moments

and annual stations

without windstorms

Yours to live it is replete

of seasonal dreams

Everything seems composed and anxious for windstorms, such human storms aggressive, of inhuman. And the love so manufactured, so unusual, so materialized, as the climates, altered. As the inconstant persecution of the thieves in the wounded streets, because no longer more bread exists. All finally walked for the space. And in the nights the human wild animal get off their darkness dens and they come unfastened, they in the illuminated streets for us to rescue what spoiled them. No longer there are cities, now they are bank agencies and mortuaries.

But the youth's whiteness stays unalterable in the delivery, in the charms of the slavery and of the destinies of the love. It is always wait us steep staircases and closed doors in the mystery of the besides the locks. So much invented noise, unusual just so that our hearts faint in the without time of the friendship, such disposable thing. And the human shouting that in the altitude of the amplitude crosses the highest mountains. To do noise is also business.

And so many millions of people that walk seeking don't know the something. It is over there if they are in the exhaustion of the they live for us to consume tons of sedatives. And the children uninterruptedly regret her because their mothers became exhausted indefensible, in the inertia, without they console them.

Our thought is frequently besieged by the message that it is necessary to get something to eat, and we continue the great explosion of the big bang accordingly. We were born of an explosion, then our character aggressive, warlike.

I continue in the incessant search for among countless religions, which it is the one that it serves us, that can feel some usefulness. But I don't feel some difference between them and any dictatorship, but however I am fascinated in the encounter with divine God. Both have the same sinkings and contritions, and the abyss where they intend to behave there is already a lot was dug by the human asperity.

He lets to surround you for the green, he loves the plants intensely, and he offers them your best friendship. He worships the rivers, the seas, the mountains, the eagles, the hawks, and the other families. He lets to caress you for the dew of the evening and of the dawn. He leaves that the rain is slippery for your body; it seats you as rainy cascade to travel the medium furrows of the leaves in apotheosis. If you want to reach the fullness of the freedom, it extends your soul to the splendour of the liberation of your nature and of the Nature.

It is this just the love that still remains you. That your fight is never a lost battle.