Riqueza

“Ordinary riches can be stolen, real riches cannot. In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you.”

Oscar Wilde

MATSUMURAE

O Sol já adormeceu

The Simple Story

The little thoughts came rushing in
While I watched for a sign from him
When all the while was clear as day
That I should go and he should stay

I took his love like it was mine
I squeezed the truth until it lied
It took some time for cracks to show
Should I stay or should he go?

The simple story that you told me
Is a little different than what you showed me
The simple story, unfurling slowly
Is if you lay down with a dream
You'll wake up lonely

The fog will cast a certain shade
So what you see is how what's made
it's mark will show you what to do
When hope pretends it's made you new

Love lied
Love lied
But I'm the reason
Love died

The simple story (love lied)
that you told me (love lied)
Is a little different from what you showed me (love died)

The sky wraps 'round the mountaintops

The watch unwinds until it stops
Some things will always be the way they are

And that is how they'll stay

The simple story (love lied)
That you told me (love lied)
Is a little different than what you showed me (love died)
The simple story, (love lied)
Unfurling slowly (love lied)
Is if you lay down with a dream
You'll wake up lonely (love died)

L'amour

Lentement

Tu t'en vas à la dérive
Sur la rivière du souvenir
Et moi, courant sur la rive,
Je te crie de revenir,

Mais, lentement, tu t'éloignes
Et dans ma course éperdue,
Peu à peu, je te regagne
Un peu de terrain perdu.

De temps en temps, tu t'enfonces
Dans le liquide mouvant
Ou bien, frôlant quelques ronces,
Tu hésites et tu m'attends.

En te cachant la figure
Dans ta robe retroussée,
De peur que ne te défigurent
Et la honte et les regrets.

Tu n'es plus qu'une pauvre épave,
Chienne crevée au fil de l'eau
Mais je reste ton esclave
Et plonge dans le ruisseau.

Quand le souvenir s'arrête
Et l'océan de l'oubli,
Brisant nos coeurs et nos têtes,
A jamais, nous réunit

A inspiração está escondida na ponta de um lápis por afiar

Abril

As cores de abril,
Os ares de anil,
O mundo se abriu em flor.
E pássaros mil,
Nas flores de abril,
Voando e fazendo amor.

O canto gentil
De quem bem te viu
Num pranto desolador.
Não chora, me ouviu,
Que as cores de abril
Não querem saber de dor.

Olha quanta beleza,
Tudo é pura visão
E a natureza transforma a vida em canção.
Sou eu o poeta quem diz:
Vai e canta, meu irmão,
Ser feliz é viver morto de paixão.