quinta-feira, 9 de maio de 2013

Drowned (in) Ink

From the most precious pearls of the Earth,
There lies my joyful soul.
To the existence of it's dirt,
Only I belong in the deepest hole;
Where I tear of happiness,
And smile with brightness.

It is longer than I thought,
It is not my fear,
As only in my mind I can hear,
But it is not;
And with whom I would love or die,
My lips would be dry,

Thus give me a bit of your
Wine that I won't drink,
But for me an hour
With only thee is enough
To let myself drown in ink.

Ricardo Rodrigues

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