​There are many ways to say serious things, but only poetry is honest


Manoel de Barros

Edited and translated by Lira



​I found you. It was… Ah, why would that matter? August, September or May.

As long as the moon was shining, why would it matter? As long as the sun was down

In your eyes, my dreams were scattered


I found you. Later, after… Everything fades;

Your eyes disappear in gold and dust


Alphonsus de Guimaraens

(Edited and translated)

Early August

Ghost people come and go — married men

Crawl back to their bitter wives

And teen runaways head home


People have walked away without excuses 

For the lack of fabricated intimacy

And concern for your daily tragedies

But if you stop to think,

These days haven’t been so lonely


Tiny sweat drops, microscopic sand on my face and pale freckled chest —

The sun shines through our veil of melancholy

Yet I wouldn’t call this unhappiness


I’ve put my hope in a distant tomorrow




Clear eyes in the mirror,

Heavy with the weight of yesterday

And the doubts of our tomorrows,

Gaze into thoughts that come and go —

Cross space and time, through light and darkness,

And fade away to another sphere