A writer is not an actor. His work pretends to be a portrait of the most profound feelings of all the characters that live inside the tales he imagines. It is not an objective to see a face that really shows something that is strange to the hart of the person who is an actor. To write is to go hand in hand with the reader; not in a path of "real" landscapes, made of sand and stones, trees and grass, but of smiles, praies and weeping or tears, praies and busts of laughter's, with happy sounds together with them. The landscape of the writer is painted with words and letter, open and closed vowels, consonants and brain signals. Everything is like a group of small drops of electricity that combined create an illusion almost as real as reality. All this can happen during the night: the writer doesn't have a brush or a palette. His most important instrument are his glasses, not to look to the piece of paper in front of him but to see (and think about) the world and the social movement that happens... everyday. Nevertheless, he is an ordinary man. If he wasn't he wouldn't be able to understand the reasons that explain the movements of woman and men in a complex society. You must believe that the human society is more complex than a society of monkeys! And you may smile thinking about this comparison but the truth is that they are our friends and we all together are a family: the cell of my novel, the piece of flesh the writer sees with the help of his microscope. It is marvelous to understand the machinery of the human reality, especially when we are a part of it.
I would like, so much, to have your fragrance.
Tender, calid and gently coloured flower...
Contrasts with the top of the mountain where you live:
it is between rocks and dry sand your home.
A Flor Azul Marinho
Pequena, como uma estrela da noite.
Luminosa, tal qual um noturno ponto de luz.
Junto de ti talvez alguém pernoite.
Mas, em mim, é o dia em ti que me seduz!
Generosa, como a luminosidade da manhã.
Frágil, como a pequenez infantil.
Peço-te, dá-me um melhor amanhã.
E espelha nele o teu sentir Primaveril!
FIM
Para quaisquer contactos:
For any contact:
Obrigado
Thanks
Merci
Na noite fria, o gélido infinito firmamento
Disposto sobre mim, naquele longo Verão
Pleno d’aquela luz difusa que fazia o momento:
Aglomerado de estrelas libertas no coração.
Então, devagar, sai sub-repticiamente de casa a senti-las,
Embrenhando-me a gosto naquela salpicada escuridão
Imaginando plenamente o azul em fogo a consumi-las
E eu ser seu amante, com elas, em terna e eterna comunhão.
Até que vi um rasgo imenso de luz no céu,
Palmilhando-o poderoso, qual salpico Divino.
E desejei, à estrela cadente, algo de bom naquele breu,
Sentindo a sua poeira quente a apagar-se em mim:
Perfurar-me, pertencer-me e eu pertencer-lhe cosmicamente.
Num estelar e resignado desfecho de morte, sermos UM por fim…
Eu um cabelo d’ela e ela a Rainha da imensa Via Láctea:
Tão só, a linha extra de um poema livre!
My royal blue is only your colorful wood house
Worm place, where I can find your ivory arms
Someday, I am certain, you will be my spouse
But today we are golden lovers in arm’s
The many small clay tiles in the roof are poppy red
The wall, of exotic wood: India yellow
The views of that evenly place: perfectly mellow
More if my lips touch yours. Blood: vermilium red.
Our deep lake near the house has waters sap green
Reflecting the phthalo blue and indigo of sky
Also the trees' colors with those fruits we are keen
Everything perfect when I see your eyes
If I don’t, then, my face is mineral white
And caput mortuum abandon our skies
22-12-2012
Dear Friends,
If you want I can make you a Windows Phone app, with your own poetry for a little amount of money.
Please contact me at: ruiprcar@gmail.com
Regards
Boa tarde a todos,
informo, a quem não saiba, que o meu livro em Lisboa se encontra à venda em:
"O Alfarrabista" (Baixa - Rua da Madalena), "Museu do Fado" (Alfama) e "El Corte Inglés" (Praça de Espanha).
Chama-se "Tales for the Ones in Love"
Obrigado e cumprimentos,
Dear Friends,
in Portugal, my book is for sale in Lisbon and Arganil.
Best regards,
Dear Friends you can make a download of a free app at Windows Phone Microsoft Marketpalce, if you have a Windows Phone.
"Poetry 1", "Poetry 2" and/or "Poetry 3" are my poetry apps.
Regards
Good afternoon friends,
One example that seems evident when we think about the preceding text, it seems to me, the case of horror movies. In reality, reality itself can contain many of the elements of a horror film, for example, the death of family members, illness, violent assaults and even, these days the lack of jobs and forced emigration. This output of the "comfort zone" that some people refer ... the same people that don't know what they're talking about. That said, it seems peaceful to admit that someone who likes horror movies have a quiet life as the surface of a lake in late Summer .. that envy. See you soon and have a quiet life, without horror movies (or horror literature)
