I've finally found out
That most of the tears I cried
Were not mine.
They dropped from other eyes,
so clear, salty and bright
-but they were not mine.
Yet I have on my face
All the tracks
They've left behind.
O MEDO O medo é uma voz que grita, Mas só a ouve quem teme. Mas quem a teme, disfarça O coração que se esgarça, A voz sumida, que geme. ...
Marvelous poem, Ana! I loved it!
ResponderExcluirCongratulations!!!! your blog is very beautiful!!!!!!
Kisses