“Deixo-vos com um belo poema que ilustra a minha arte”

Bom quando a gente é citado, por quem pede justiça.

A Poesia possui a força de libertar multidões.

O poder maior de libertar as almas.

Letter sent to the headquarters of Interpol in Lyon, France:

“To my dear and faithful friend, David Brandon, director of the International Police:

It was with great pleasure that I noticed that the efforts of yje Interpol have been reinforced since your mandate was renewed, dear David. I also noticed that the inspector Jean-Paul Smith is leading the investigation. They say that in recent months appeared so much new information about me that my file exceeds, already, a thousand pages. It was with great delight that I heard you make such a statement to the televisions of all the world, despite knowing that the number mentioned above is just an innocent hyperbole of yours. But nevertheless, it brings me to tears thinking about all the affection that you show through your dedication to my case. However, what the pivots of information continue to claim, as well as the crime analysts from around the world, is that the Interpol continues to be unable to draw a psychological profile for me. In the absence of this psychological profile, and already aware of my modest abilities of flight, it is said that the Interpol finds itself in serious trouble following my trail. How sad is your fate, so lovingly trying to find me in vain. But as  Sathya Sai Baba said, ‘I am in you, you are in me, there is no distance of distinction’.

For this reason I tell you. In a week, Bombay, the old town. Some interesting things will show up. I leave you with a beautiful poem that illustrates my art:

‘Now I understand
the terror of the spikes
setting in your feet
of wandarer
the terror of the spkies
piercing the flesh.
Now I understand
the humiliation, the pain
of the thorns wounding
your head
that seven days ago
they wanted to crown.
Now I understand
Your immense anguish:
eyes gazing dreams
that your torn hands
sought to sow. ‘- Andrade Talis

Your faithful friend,

Samwell Warwick.
(At least today.)

February 12, 1984, Fort William, Scotland. ”

O fim

Recife, cruel cidade,

águia ardente, leão.

Ingrata para os da terra,

boa para os que não são.

Amiga dos que a maltratam,

inimiga dos que não,

este é teu retrato feito

com tintas do teu verão

e desmaiadas lembranças

do tempo em que também eras

noiva da revolução” – Carlos Pena Filho


 Recado à Província

Até quando vocês vão ignorar a minha Poesia?




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