Tecelã de Sonhos - Poesia D'água

Motherland

as i write to you this letter,
all the candles are litten
making on the walls
sweet shadows

the paper stained with tea
while i pour out my thoughts.
confusion within drops of honey
and love within sweet rhymes
and to keep me company, tonight
- the moon adorning the sky.

i think of the land i belong
of how i miss the bright green meadows
with lonely trees
and the thick forest
surrounding the river's dark water
or the streams side by side
with a little bridge in between.

i never liked my grandmother, nor she liked me
but she was a good companion for fishing
and i loved to hear the stories
of the witch among the cane field
and the tale of a woman who dreamt of a treasure
hidden by pirates
on a rock on top of the big hill.

the hill could be seen by the door of grandma's house
everyday the hill seemed suspicious,
especially because it could be seen
only by day,
at night was as if the big hill moved away;
maybe to eternal heaven
or maybe hidden and veiled by the endless darkness of that summer night.

but it didn't matter anymore
another day came and my grandmother told me another story,
and with the absurdity of it
i forgot about the misterious hill.

it was the story of a cursed man
who found the devil on a matchbox
she thought it would scare me to death
but the only thing i remember thinking
was of how little was that devil,
to fit in on a tiny box
and all i did that long sticky day was laugh.

"how rude to laugh of a man's disgrace"
i kept laughing all summer long
of how silly she was
trying to scared the kid
who played with snakes by day
and would hunt fireflies at night.

i had the best summers there
listening the old woman's tale
of devils witches and phantoms
it was a pity we didn't liked each other
i wish i had known more stories...

until this day i miss that place
i only go there once a year
no more long summers in the wild
no more me in the greenery
no more innocence in the flowers
of all the most precious: no more stories.

all tales have endings
the seasons change
the summer went away and never came back
all stayed in the past; a childhood ending.
perhaps rotting along the joy i left there
perhaps i'm rotting beside the river' lilies
perhaps i am broken for that summer never came back.

all wonders have an end but i wish my hadn't
i miss the snakes up on the hill
i miss myself running on the fields.
do tell me, will you love me if i tell you
i miss even the witch among the cane field?

but know that i ran away from all
all is passed and perhaps for the best.

endings are mostly sad
but maybe the tears i'm shedding are of joy
from remembering the wholeness of the past.

tell me sweet lily, will you dance with me?
on that field along the trees, the cows and old - now abandoned - stables? - while the wind is strong and even stronger is the heat of the summer's sun.

will you marry me on that meadow
if i kneel before you? or will you kneel before me?
while bees are murmuring and the birds are singing, the trees sway and we could stay there
dancing above the old soil.

when that summer never came back,
i found you.
i long for summer when i yearn of you.
adulthood is s tragedy but mine ends with love.

we cry tears of joy
for my love is all yours
as once belonged to the haze
to rivers and streams, to that old isolated place.

my love is yours, lily. truly yours.
my long hued summer lives buried on your soul,
your eyes gleam like a newborn sun;
i am lucky woman: i have you right beside me.
perhaps like i used to have that old summer,

but indeed my love is now yours,
you are not letting me go,
like i did that summer go.