She received a special Christmas gift. He seems to be exactly what she was waiting for. But she is scared of this feeling. It’s not easy to like another person again. With him everything become easier and lovely. Pero ella tiene miedo…
_ You are a fucking pretty girl, a really nice one.
_ Listen, don’t forget it: never, ever, let anybody says less than this about you.
_ Now, tell me some words. I need words.
_ You are a handsome british guy.
_ You dance very well and it attracted me since the beggining.
_ I’m a free woman, but you are married. This fucking pretty girl won’t do this.
_ Don’t say it looking at me this way, fucking free pretty girl.
And then he kissed me.
You say you adore her.
And so many other unpublishable things
Without any shame
But you do not say what she most wanted to hear.
Maybe it’s even better this way
All this mismatch.
Not an ocean away was able to change
You still give her butterflies.
She is living awesome stories, unforgettable. But you are still here, in her heart. It won’t be forever, she knows. She feels it. But now you are still here, in her heart.
Mente o tempo:
a idade que tenho
só se mede por infinitos.
Pois eu não vivo por extenso.
Apenas fui a Vida
em relampejo do incenso.
Quando me acendi
foi nas abreviaturas do imenso.
A man filled with the gladness of living
Put his keys on the table,
Put flowers in a copper bowl there.
He put his eggs and milk on the table.
He put there the light that came in through the window,
Sounds of a bicycle, sound of a spinning wheel.
The softness of bread and weather he put there.
On the table the man put
Things that happened in his mind.
What he wanted to do in life,
He put that there.
Those he loved, those he didn’t love,
The man put them on the table too.
Three times three make nine:
The man put nine on the table.
He was next to the window next to the sky;
He reached out and placed on the table endlessness.
So many days he had wanted to drink a beer!
He put on the table the pouring of that beer.
He placed there his sleep and his wakefulness;
His hunger and his fullness he placed there.
Now that’s what I call a table!
It didn’t complain at all about the load.
It wobbled once or twice, then stood firm.
The man kept piling things on.
(From the Turkish of Edip Cansever)