Because we don’t want to hear about
the things that join us together
the things we all share
The unavoidable, precious commonalities
The natural, the ugly, the precious and the monstrous
(Yes, what makes us human)

Because we don’t want to recognize our multiple natures
that we are home for evil and good
that we can lead or go astray
kill and love
destroy and nurture
and all there is in between

When and if we get aware
of our simple precious humanity
that makes us the ultimate family
we will forgive all
we won’t blame the Other
we will sooth each other
and help each other to understand
to really KNOW
We will learn to see the common and not the difference
We will accept we are not better than anybody else
We will realize our names rhyme with everybody else’s

Saiba: todo mundo foi neném
Einstein, Freud e Platão também
Hitler, Bush e Saddam Hussein
Quem tem grana e quem não tem

Saiba: todo mundo teve infância
Maomé já foi criança
Arquimedes, Buda, Galileu
e também você e eu

Saiba: todo mundo teve medo
Mesmo que seja segredo
Nietzsche e Simone de Beauvoir
Fernandinho Beira-Mar

Saiba: todo mundo vai morrer
Presidente, general ou rei
Anglo-saxão ou muçulmano
Todo e qualquer ser humano

Saiba: todo mundo teve pai
Quem já foi e quem ainda vai
Lao-Tsé, Moisés, Ramsés, Pelé
Gandhi, Mike Tyson, Salomé

Saiba: todo mundo teve mãe
Índios, africanos e alemães
Nero, Che Guevara, Pinochet
e também eu e você



Look at my hands
Just look at them

In my hands
all the wisdom there is
all the beauty

No compromise there
my faithful hands
are mine

If a choose not to raise them
not to know the asnwers
they'll stay still on my desk
pretending ignorance

Should you need answers
don't look elsewhere
look at them

Look at my hands



steps can sing
words can vow silence
eyes can touch

stillness can be frantic
humour can be fire
your heartbeat can go crazy

time can stop still
a scent can ignite
a dream can sooth

a man can cry
a lover will find
a wanderer can rest

a road can twist
a silence can move

            A spark can fly

UM AMOR (MAria João, Mário Laginha)

Eu lhe ouvi entrar
vi no seu olhar
que estava querendo me atormentar

E reagi sem ver
coração tocando o céu da boca
minha alma louca
Ai minha voz saindo
andando sem roupa
nua de palavras

Queimando de intenção
digo afogueada
algo sem retorno e sem razão
Foi como se pegasse fogo em fria agua
como se empurrasse a escuridão,
como se iluminasse
meu amor ficasse pertinho
jurando servidão.



Olha a lua partida ao meio
de tão baixinha que está
quase leva as copas das árvores
e o cabelo dos homens altos.

Se eu fosse muito guloso
comia esta lua em forma de queijo.

Olha a nuvem, a nuvem branca
quer tapar o nosso queijo
nuvem gorda e sem vergonha
invejosa da luz da lua.

Tu já viu que esta noite não tem vento?

Olha a lua partida ao meio
se eu pudesse sentava nela
e ficava espiando a terra
e me via olhando ela!



I’m the one guiding the feather
Yet (alas!)
 this feather has retained
some autonomy
from its owner’s ecstatic and pompous majesty…
You can’t avoid that sometimes,
and I tell you in advance:
that can even be a desirable thing

Now open  your eyes
If you so wish
You know how a peacock feather
can be mesmerizing to watch
Or then close your eyelids to save yourself
for other things to come

That should be for you to decide

see Making Plans (I) e Making Plans (II)


Ears tend to think they know it all
(but no they don’t)
Fingers can be enlightened listeners as well,
for they share
         the secret brotherhood
                     the ancestral wisdom
                                    the touching knowledge

Believe me:
Like white virgins, 
your ears would blush
if they knew 
just a tiny fraction of
your fingers’ 


You know peacocks are not regular fliers
No, they’re not.
Nonetheless, through the years
they developed somehow
the selective art of flying to trees

(I like digressing because
I can sense you are listening,
and digressions might be
      after all

See Making Plans (I)



Close your eyes
but keep reading
I’m not asking the impossible,
you understand,
for I meant  your inner eyes

Now picture a feather
not a swan’s, not a goose’s
Their feathers may be good for pillows,
or so I‘ve heard,
but for you I want
nothing but the peacock’s


Venturing farther away
no fear of going astray

For your aim is nothing
but  the future
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