Lençóis (feat. Tatiana Nascimento)

My beloved
When she looks at the stars
Through the myriad of her gentle eyes
Awakens so much brightness so much beauty
That doesn't get lost in certainties
Only have dance, joy, water, and love

I don't feel alone in the vastness of the sky
And I don't feel alone in the vastness of the sky
And I don't feel alone in the vastness of the sky
And I don't feel alone in the vastness of the sky

My beloved
Because I know she thinks of me
And my chest becomes peace
And the body, and the body a volcano

I don't feel alone in the vastness of the sky
And I don't feel alone in the vastness of the sky
And I don't feel alone in the vastness of the sky
I don't feel alone in the vastness of the sky

[Tatiana Nascimento: Poem 'Almost']
Can you give me a piece of your love?
Just a piece
I don't want you whole
I don't want you entirely
Not too much
Just that rough piece
Chipped, broken, fucked, ground
Fallen on the floor, scraped knee, sore
Not the worst piece, nor the least important
Because that would be asking for the best inside out
But I don't want anything best
Also because I don't have anything very good to give
So give me if you want a piece of your heart
A space, a gap, a crack, a void
A shard
A shard of some time it was broken
But you don't even remember properly how, when
By whom?
That's the one I want
Give me that little piece
That chip, that somewhat worn ruin
But not too old
That we can say archaeology
Nor too new
To the point of not being trinket
That shard that you would never think someone would want
For any random thing, or that would be worth a poem
I want that scrap
To join with any scrap of my patched heart
Under a silly sunny day, just put one next to the other, like that, still under the midday sun
To make even more banal the zenith of the daily mediocrity of the Sun in the middle of the sky under the day
And then sit and observe how everything, everything indeed, shines under the Sun, even a rough shard
Of crowned glass somewhat scratched
Like the tide of the chips of my heart
The dictionary will call this little, silly, small, common, banal, simple foolish thing love
The satellites, the drones, the NASA up there
Will see this thing shine
Fragments of what we are seeking grout
And even the retinas that look will almost blind from this dim shine too
But so bright that this Sun will be, these shards, this encounter
The dirty sidewalk where the shards lie the little plant growing in the cracked concrete the routine the taste of salt from the sweat dripping down the forehead the day almost will cease to be the same for a
Moment
Or almost
And sharing a deep second like this
Is almost giving oneself entirely to someone nowadays
The way things are so broken, right