Lying on my large couch under the moon
I had my arms crossed, waiting for fortune
Between two empty partitions and a bare bulb, poetry
My life was going to pass peacefully and without story
But everything was too real and I preferred to believe
In the shapes drawn in the melted candles
Poetry where there never was any

A bare building block bars my horizon
Those who designed it still not in prison
The child can scribble one more graffiti, poetry
On the poorly made sidewalk that cracks and breaks
Like we make a stop, we see ourselves in the puddles
A piece of beyond descended to our feet
Poetry where there never was any

Life is a competition where no one wins
A path that winds around a mountain
We all end up at the top, when the time comes, poetry
I saw the man pass by, armed as for war
Dying is his project, we will have to get used to it
We will dance later, when calm returns
Poetry where there never was any

From the surviving child under tons of stones
To the snowflakes flown from their glass ball
We think that the sky would have intervened, poetry
From the captive tiger, she opens the bars
The ten square meters for him and his family
Become with each step a vast expanse
Poetry where there never was any

Look she is ten years old and see how beautiful she is
She is beautiful and yet, she does not leave her house
Except with the soul and the body, hidden under fabrics, poetry
Returning home, I crossed fanfares
Rows of drums, bells, guitars
She walked in front, her long hair undone
Poetry where there will never be any

She turned on the radio, the pretty tune
She is sad without him, he is sad without her
And the radars flash on the beaten paths, poetry
Yet the street vibrated, crowded with cars
The sun clung to the angles of the roofs
And each tree took on the poses of statues
Poetry where there never was any

If one day, I crossed by chance a face
The singer that I was in the village dances
We would look at each other like two strangers, poetry
He would surely tell me, you must have seen a lot of people
Yet it could be that in the end I answer
It's the one I was who I miss the most
Poetry where there never was any

I was straining my eyes, under the celestial vault
To know where are marked the hours that remain for me
And look for tomorrow what is planned, poetry
Like truths, I found none
On the large couch lying under the moon
I searched in the melted candles
Poetry where there never was any

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