A batida da minha alma

Sinto a dança do meu coraçâo,
o seu ritmo é me estranho.
Nâo pode ser a minha imaginaçâo,
nem pode ser um sonho.

A triste balada repetitiva que um dia me invadiu mudou.
O violino e as suas longas notas agora sâo felicidade e nigretto.
O dirigente do orchestra do meu coraçâo que era Chopin
ou morreu, ou à miséria longinqua pôs fim.

Agora aprendo as rotinas das danças latinas e os seus passos,
derreto com sangue quente os blocos de gelo accumulados.
Provavelmente nâo acompanho todos os tangos nem os sopranos,
mas uma coisa é certa, encontrei uma harmonia, o meu ritmo.

Les malheurs fougueux

J'en ai marre de t'avoir dans mon cœur, dans ma tête, dans mon corps. Je suis fatiguée de verser des larmes inutilement, de culpabiliser, de me mutiler en gambergeant. Tu me lasses avec ton ignorance qui me torture, avec ton insouciance qui me détruit, mais avant tout avec ton sourire pittoresque qui m’anéantit. Comme une maladie virulente, tu t'es faufilé dans mes veines et tu as causé l'implosion de mon cœur. Tu m'as condamnée à un massacre, un carnage sentimental. Une telle destruction sentimentale peut être fatale.Mais, moi, je ne succomberai pas à cette désillusion du monde. Les séquelles resteront à vie, tu auras toujours une certaine emprise sur moi, tu seras toujours capable de faire danser mon âme,... Peut-être cette réflexion peut sembler une exagération immature, irréaliste, mais la force invraisemblable et inépuisable de l'amour n'est pas fugace, éphémère comme la passion. Bien au contraire elle est éternelle et irréfutable, elle ne s'absente jamais, mais se met en veilleuse en attendant un nouveau déclenchement. En espérant que cette emprise perpétuelle ne soit qu'une erreur dans mon raisonnement , je me lance à la recherche d'un nouveau cercle vicieux auto-destructif pour retrouver dans l'espace d'un sourire, d'un regard, de mots doux, d'un baiser langoureux, mon ataraxie.

Sermon de bonne conduite!

Jeune et belle, oui elle avait toutes ces qualités. Cependant elle avait de très grands défauts, elle n'était pas superficielle, infidèle, facile. Comment pouvait-elle? Quel audace! Quelle impunité! Non seulement elle désobéissait à ses parents, mais elle ne les respectait plus. Ses parents la grondaient, la punissaient, mais elle subsistait. Elle continuait sa lutte, elle continuait à faire sa rebelle. Souvent ses parents lui demandaient comment elle pouvait sortir dans une telle ou telle tenue. Pourquoi ne pouvait-elle pas être comme toutes les filles : se maquiller, bien s'habiller, même si cela signifiait mettre des mini-jupes pour aller à l'école. N'était pas cela la coutume de l'époque? Quelle vertu : attirer tous les regards sur soi! Quelle qualité : de séduire par le physique! Quelle élégance: utiliser l'argent de façon si sensée!  Ils avaient honte, ils l'avaient propulsée au rang de criminelle. Elle n'était rien d'autre, elle était une hors-la-loi qui refusait la civilisation. Un homme? Jamais elle n'en aurait un. Personne ne veut  une fille qui sache faire la conversation et qui refuse l'échange de liquides le premier jour. Une relation monogame n'est plus en vogue. Vive le libertinage!
Rien d'autre ne l'attendit que le bagne. Soyez intelligents et adaptés vous à la société, mais surtout n'oubliez pas: Vive les jeunes d'aujourd'hui!

A obra da minha vida

Eu sou a obra de arte que a minha vida proporciona.

Cada dia, cores juntam-se ao meu quadro incompleto:

Tanto o verde, vermelho, laranja, amarelo ou rosa,

Como o azul, castanho, cinza, preto ou mesmo o negro.

Já corri, saltei, voei, sorri, chorei, odiei e amei,

No entanto tudo ultrapassei e ainda não acabei.

Pintar um quadro perfeito? Já tentei e não gostei.

 Prefiro um acaso agradável de quando olvidei.

Não me importa que amadores me machuquem,

Existe sempre uma solução para tudo recompor.

Por isso nunca se esqueçam “ Carpe diem!”

E a ódio respondam com a pior arma: o amor.

O caminho da minha vida já esta todo traçado.

Entre os graffiti e as esculturas me vou perdendo,

Mas o meu destino final será sempre alcançado.

Pois tal como César eu venho, vejo e venço.

 Raquel Araujo

You have to be strong

She's going to die, they said. There was nothing they could do about it. They had already done everything:  radiotherapie, chimiotherapie, operations. Nevertheless nothing helped. She was dying, but no one was conformed to it. This news put them down, but there was still an inkling of hope, they kept holding on. The family continued visiting her as if nothing was schedueled as if she was only going to have holidays and would return. Although he knew this wouldn't go on forever. He realized it before anybody. He cried in his room, so he couldn't be heard. He didn't want to transmit his pessimistic thoughts. His mother and brother were already affected. You only had to talk about cancer and they started to cry. He imagined being prepared for the news...
The phone rang. It was his mother. She was crying out of control. It had happened. Instantly he left school, took the bus and ran to the hospital. He wanted to see his aunt before her last ride. He had to see the corpse that once was full of life. He entered in the elevator; fifth floor. The door opened, he had to go to the far end of the passage. He could hear his mother crying, his cousin yelling, he felt the misery that had invaded his family. HE went to the room where she had spent the rest of her life. At that precise momet, the tears leaked. Her blue eyes were staring at a better future without suffering. Her mouth was open as if she was going to take leaves from the family with her warm voice. As he touched her, he felt the heat. Suddenly the long of shaking her, took the young adult. He knew it wouldn't happen, but why? He colsed her eyes and her mouth and let her undertaking her last ride. She was ready, harmonious and released. It was her time. He was angry not with her, but with himself. He thought he was ready to get through, but he wasn't. His will was to pour out all the water of his body, to yell, to do anything to make her come back, but he couldn't. He analysed her body. This time he touched her stomach. He gave a jump, it was cold. He continued, he let his hands touch the kidneys. This time, it wasn't the coldness which frightnened him, but the hemorragie. The right kidney had doubled and the skin was becoming blue. There was the reason of her death. A cancer never kills.Only then he noticed the smell, the smell of death. He had never thought he would be confronted to such a grief. He didn't nearly imagine how a lost could hurt. It didn't matter what he felt. He had to tobe strong. His mother was crying on the hallway holding the little motherless in her arms. His brother was sitting on the floor jiggling as on trance. For the first time he had to act like an adult and show the way. It was itching him seeing his family in such a state. The only thing he could do was supporting them withouth taking care of his feelings. He was strong, some day he would heal....

For everybody who has lost someone in the battle against cancer, be strong, some day will take revenge.

True fairytale

I saw you today, you were walking along the river.  You weren't alone, not by yourself. A girl, a beautiful girl was walking beside you.She was smiling and seemed happy, but you did not. You had that face. You know, the one you always have when you are concerned about something. Nevertheless she didn't see it, it doesn't mind how you feel. Now she has you, nobody can take you away from her or at least it is what she thinks. My will was to go over, take you in my arms and tell you everything is going to be alright as I always did. But I couldn't, I couldn't forget about what you had done. You betrayed me with her. The one who was walking beside you, the same who was holding your hands, the girl who was ignoring your feelings. You chose her, you prefered her. I walked away and left you behind me. I was going home, holding back my tears and praying for you to disapear. To disapear of my mind, heart, soul, body, it was all I wanted. An arm hold me back, I didn't want to look into your eyes, I didn't turn around. You insisted, you were staring at my face.YOu know the face I always have when somedoy disappoints me and once again you put it on me. You regreted having cheated on me. You were sorry, you wanted to have me back. You had broken my heart and you expected me to come back? I was vulnerable, it could have happened. Our story could be  fairytale, but instead it was a true story. I  grew strong and I will survive as sang Glorya. So do me a favour, don't ever address you to me again, because I don't want to risk to remember those strong feelings that once existed.

Aegror perpetua

Mon coeur est une énorme entaille que le temps voudrait guérir.
Cependant un sang impure , coagulé, ne peut pas me rendre le sourir.
Je ne parlerais pas d´infection , mais d´une maladie mortelle
á laquelle nous succomberons  puisque c´est un mythe; la vie éternelle.

Ni les vaccins, ni les antibiotiques, ni les remèdesne pourront prolonger nos jours,
nous sauver  ou nous servir face à cette maladie antique qui est l´amour!