GLOBAL ART

 

 

I tear a stamp inside me

And I annihilate the words that consume my soul...

To scream, what for? You really know I tell about you

When I am all alone and I murmur for the distance

That there is always between us.

A long kiss lost in the silence

Of an eternal night is enough to make my soul calms down.
But even so I am all alone Lost inside myself

Always in the search for an impossible dream,

That delays in coming.

Sometimes, so many times I interrogate myself

In the morning and in the falling of the night

If everything is worthwhile.

If the reason of my existence had any middle or a purposed end,

after all we are so many

That feel and see life like this and the rest is the whole

that we will never understand.

I tear inside me an Inexplicable border,

so that my life starts to make any sens.

Then I repeat so many other things...

And you who think you are a woman, but you are not

You are just a lost poem inside me since

I was born to love you

And suffer as nobody else suffers

As I do it suffer for you.

Art, love and pain

They are the reason of all my suffering।

Who knows one day, even if it's late,

The world recognizes all the things

that are hidden from the men's eyes today.

The color and strange lines are everything

I leave you As notes of a music

That has a form of a nymph or an angel

The mystery of life and the occultism

that there areWhen it seams to be so strange.

Lateness is just a moment inside the infinite...

Late when I even leaving forever, here I stay.


BY MIGUEL WESTERBERG

 

-
Nove horas da manhã
O som do teclado toma forma...
As suas mãos correm e se perdem

Na busca de novas melodias
Lá fora as mesmas coisas...
O movimento constante de sempre.
Em um se estar em parte alguma
Muitas das vezes incerta.

Será que estou só?...
Ou será que a vida se reduz apenas
A este momentâneo apenas?

Na verdade, gostaria de saber
Qual seria o ponto final disto tudo...
Murmurou ela e continuou...
Para onde vamos?
Se é que vamos
Para algum lugar.