one day, when tenderness has become the single rule of the morning,/ I will wake in your arms. perhaps your skin will be overly gorgeous./ and the light will include the impossible understanding of love.

the poem doesn’t have stanzas, it has a body, the poem doesn’t have lines,/ it has blood, the poem is not written with letters, it’s written/ with grains of sand and kisses, petals and moments,...

Beyond the clouds, above people, beneath the skin, inside people, we’re waiting for you. We see you now, as you read. We’ll see you when you stop thinking about these words. Above and inside your...

Memory is like a curse. We fall into eternity, and memory is a weight that keeps pulling us to where we can never go back to.

É possível avançar por ruas durante toda a vida, perder as forças nas pernas, cair de joelhos e morrer, transformar-se lentamente, com a chuva, com os anos, no empedrado da calçada, diluir-se entre as pedras,...

I think: perhaps the sky is a huge sea of fresh water and we, instead of walking under it, walk on top of it; perhaps we see everything upside down and the earth is a...

Suffering is tossed by handfuls over the multitudes, with most of it falling on some people and little or none of it on others.

fico admirado quando alguém, por acaso e quase sempresem motivo, me diz que não sabe o que é o amor.eu sei exactamente o que é o amor. o amor é saberque existe uma parte de...

Nostalgia por saber que muito provavelmente nunca mais regressaria ali. Esta constatação confrontava-me com os limites da minha própria existência, com aquilo que não terei tempo de fazer ou voltar a fazer ao longo do...