Frapê




 Corda nova

trilho de espresso sul

risca a fala

Balança o corpo

azedo senso

rapa barbaridade

grita na curva

decora pensamentos

tagarela desfeitos

beija conceitos

uiva embora

abraça palanque

cospe a goela

suja a farda

na estação

desce a mala

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I saw my feet in the air

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Entertainment Industry of Rain

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I planted the dry seed

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  He was a good comrade She was sweet My mother is still the only terrain where I never would sprout she was magnificent did not need a dry seed in your country when I came I brought the presence I left her world of soft love for a mess where anything does not up I live there that is here In this spot I wrote these words, did not with words but with what could be It was my father with whom I learned to be what could be. In his imagination I was the germination. He would believe that it was here where the world could be good I fold my senses with what felt by father He was worse does not exist a garden or gardener light from alive eyes a beautiful joy a little here art is forbidden sadness desolation interdiction My mother had reason about because I showed me to her They never could know I could be what could not be I planted myself a far this place I
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