Ele Me Deu Um Beijo Na Boca

He gave me a kiss on the mouth and said to me
Life is hollow like the cap
Of a headless baby
And I laughed a lot

And he: like a drunk fox's burrow
And I said: enough of your talk
Of bottomless puddles
I know that the world
Is a flow without a bed
And only in the hollow of your chest
Does a river flow

But he agreed that life is good
Although it's just the crown
The face, is the emptiness
And he laughed, and laughed, and laughed and laughed
Said: Enough of philosophy!

I would be satisfied if the mayor fixed
The city of Bahia
This feat would affect everyone on earth
And we would see the birth of a warm peace
The children of the Cold War

It would be an anti-accident
Like a rhyme
Deactivating the plot of that prophecy
That Vicente told me
According to astronomy

That in November of the starting year
Seven stars will align in Scorpio
As only on the day of the Hiroshima bomb
And he looked at me
From above and said, to me
Delfim, Margaret Thatcher, Menahem Begin
Politics is the end

And the criticism that doesn't touch on poetry
Time Magazine wants to say that the Rolling Stones
No longer fit in the world of Time Magazine
But I say (He said)
That what no longer fits is Time Magazine
In the world of the Rolling Stones, Forever Rockin' And Rolling

Why forge contempt for the living?
And foster reactive desires?
Apaches, punks, existentialists, hippies, beatniks
Of all times, unite

And I said yes, but yes, but no, not even that
Only a few saints, if so many, in their corners
And alone

But he told me
You're sad
Because your lady abandons you
And you can't resist when she appears
She comes and establishes her chaotic cosmetic
You start to look with a gothic eye
Of a legitimate Christian

But I'm black, my man
And I know that doesn't deny and even activates
The old mulatto rhythm
And the lion roars

The fact is there's an isthmus
Between my God
And your gods
I'm from Djavan's clan
You're a fan of Donato
And we're not interested in the Christian tripe
Of Dylan Zimmerman

He would say more
But the song has to end
And I replied
The God you feel is the God of the saints
The iridescent surface of the hollow ball

My gods are heads of babies without caps
It was a moment without fear and without desire
He gave me a kiss on the mouth
And I returned that kiss