quinta-feira, 11 de julho de 2013

Sad Boredom

I don't quite understand the way I feel,
am I saddened or deeply bored?

I look into myself and I see strange images,
they determine my wacky imagination,
they let me visualize the endless travelings of my mind.

The songs in my head begin with a melancholic sound,
and you can feel what's coming:
a group of killers without compassion,
nights of sleepless people,
the forests are filled with dreams,
the smoke rises and my heart remains untouched.

I'm running through a field of dreams,
I'm getting high to the purpose of ending boredom,
I think to many of my selves and realize the end:
reality is the end,
the end of real happiness,
the end of art,
the end of the world as the ancients knew it.

And as I know it,
as I understand it's copulation with freedom;
the world has to be free,
the people are unaware of it's wonders,
they have to know.

But I repeat to myself:
am I saddened or deeply bored?
My eyes will tell,
and someone will understand.

Ricardo Rodrigues

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