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10/09/1893 - 02/25/1945

- poet, writer, literary critic, musicologist, folklorist, Brazilian essayist.
- one of the pioneers of modern Brazilian poetry with the publication of his book Paulicéia Desvairada in 1922.

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We love distant things.
We love them so much,
That we tend to become distant too.

I used to be so close and so loud...
But now, I'm loving you quietly:
Without sending letters;
Without dialing your number;
Without passing in front of your house.
I'm loving you like I love poetry:
like it doesn't hurt.

But it's not about you anymore.
It's about how much it burned,
How much it consumed each cell;
Every night and every dream.
It's about overcoming:
A fresh start;
A chance to be happy all over again.
To be real again, to love yourself.
It's about the healed wounds
And about having the courage to assume that you carry them.
To know that they show all the way you have been through before you got here.

It's about loving yourself.
But besides all,
Everything is about being who we are.
About accepting the constant changes.
It's about reborning in yourself
And learning everyday that
I can go beyond
[even if I'm without you]

Luciana Baroudi

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Sitting in front of the desk in São Paulo
In my house on Lopes Chaves street
Suddenly I felt a cold inside
I was shaking, very touched
With the foolish book staring at me.

Don't you see that I remembered that there in the North, my God!
far away from me
In the active darkness of the night that fell
A thin pale man with hair dripping in his eyes,
After making a skin with the rubber of the day,
A few minutes he has laid down, he's asleep.

This man is brazilian like me.

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Abancado à escrivaninha em São Paulo
Na minha casa da rua Lopes Chaves
De supetão senti um friúme por dentro.
Fiquei trêmulo, muito comovido
Com o livro palerma olhando pra mim.

Não vê que me lembrei que lá no Norte, meu Deus!
muito longe de mim
Na escuridão ativa da noite que caiu
Um homem pálido magro de cabelo escorrendo nos olhos,
Depois de fazer uma pele com a borracha do dia,
Faz pouco se deitou, está dormindo.

Esse homem é brasileiro que nem eu.

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"O que nos faz fortes é enfrentar nossas próprias fraquezas"

"Por gostar das coisas certas, quase sempre fiz tudo errado"

"Se você faz tudo sempre igual é seguro que não se perca, mas é possível que nunca se ache"

"Frio em São Paulo, mas o que incomoda mesmo é o inverno das pessoas"

"Por conta da timidez aprendi a beijar com os olhos"

"Um sol lindo lá fora, outro dentro do peito. Sei não, acho que hoje vou demorar para anoitecer"

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it's a composition, though not in verse, is characterized by great beauty of language or expression.

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"Blues para Emmett" - Toquinho e Vinicius de Moraes

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"Blues para Emmett" - Toquinho e Vinicius de Moraes

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Emmett's killers
Arrived without noticing
Chewing broken glass
With your lime faces
Emmett's killers
Entered without noticing
With your leather halide
And your dagger eyes

Emmett's killers
When they saw him on knees
Downloading him on
The fire of your guns
While justified
The women does a stew
To wait her husband
That at his command went behind revenge

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We are solid
We are so strong
But we melt by single touches.

I always do,
Like strawberry ice cream on a summer day
Like ice in the tea you drink every afternoon
And as my heart every time I see you.

However,
At first I didn't know
But when you kissed my cheek
I found out.
I just knew,
That I could at any moment,
Under any circumstance,
Become homesick for people too.

It's like the first cigarette you try
When you don't know what you're doing
And before you know it
You are addicted.

Addicted to your way of saying hello on the phone;
Your smile while you're watching the sunset;
The way you wait for the song to end, and just then, get out of the car.
The way you take care of my heart,
And the way I can not say I love you anymore,
Because this feeling has already become small
Compared to what I feel for you.

But sometimes I go to bed,
With anxiety knocking on the door
Delaying my sleep while I turn the pages of my book:
Quicker than you could ever imagine,
Just trying not to think of you.
Just wishing you could be by my side,
Filling the bed that it's huge without you there,
Interlacing your hands in my hair,
Invading my heart with your colors.

And just then I remember,
That when I wake up it will be Friday
And you know what's special about Fridays?
It's the day I get to see you.

So I close my book,
And I stop blaming you for violating the privacy that is my mind,
After all, I write because you exist.
And before I sink into dreams,
I tell the stars how proud they should be,
Knowing that their atoms created someone like you.

Luciana Baroudi

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it's short; the last verse changes everything; they tend to be about nature and day by day; a simple thing.

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What makes us strong
Is fearing our
Own weakness

Because of liking the
Right stuff
Almost always did
Everything wrong

If we do almost everything in
The same way, it’s assured
That you won’t lose yourself
But there’s a possibility
That you never find
Yourself

Cold in São Paulo, but
What really bothers
Is people’s inside winter

Because of shyness
I learned how to kiss with my eyes

A beautiful sun outside,
Another outside from my breast
Don’t know
I guess I’ll take long to dusk

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It touches us
- we can't feel the wind
Not even the rain