Poema recitado através de Inteligência Artificial (Vidnoz).

Green are the fields

The colour of lemon

So are the eyes

Of my heart

Field, that stretches

With beautiful greenery

Sheep, that in it

Have your pasture

You feed on herbs

That the Summer brings

And I on memories

In my heart

What you eat

Are not herbs

They are graces from the eyes

Of my heart

You feed on herbs

That the Summer brings

And I on memories

In my heart

Cattle that graze

With contentment

Your sustenance

You will not understand

What you eat

Are not herbs

They are graces from the eyes

Of my heart.

You change your being, you change your trust;
Everyone is made up of change,
Always taking on new qualities.

We continuously see new things,
Different in everything from hope;
Of the bad are the sorrows in remembrance,
And the good, if any, nostalgia.

Time covers the ground with a green mantle,
That was once covered with cold snow,
And finally, it converts the sweet song into tears.

And, apart from this changing each day,
Another change makes me astonished:
That life does not change as it used to.

You change your being, you change your trust;
Everyone is made up of change,
Always taking on new qualities.

We continuously see new things,
Different in everything from hope;
Of the bad are the sorrows in remembrance,
And the good, if any, nostalgia.

Time covers the ground with a green mantle,
That was once covered with cold snow,
And finally, it converts the sweet song into tears.

And, apart from this changing each day,
Another change makes me astonished:
That life does not change as it used to.

Green are the fields

The colour of lemon

So are the eyes

Of my heart

Field, that stretches

With beautiful greenery

Sheep, that in it

Have your pasture

You feed on herbs

That the Summer brings

And I on memories

In my heart

What you eat

Are not herbs

They are graces from the eyes

Of my heart

You feed on herbs

That the Summer brings

And I on memories

In my heart

Cattle that graze

With contentment

Your sustenance

You will not understand

What you eat

Are not herbs

They are graces from the eyes

Of my heart.

blurred from the ones that fall from the sky and roll from the mountain; the once bloomed fields are now arid; surly and cold the valley has become.

Summer is gone, with it the warmth has vanished; some things are replaced by others;

the womanly Fados have now abandoned the laws or insanities of this world.

Time has it is fine order; its rules,

the world has not; but lately so confused, it seems that has been forgotten by God.

Actions, sentiments, character and tradition

Bring the impression that there is nothing more in life than what meets the eye.

may build every soul confident and resilient;

However, Fortune, Chance,Time and Fate are the ones to reign over this chaotic world.

Around a thousand things revolve the thought,

and does not know to which cause it should report to; yet knows what is larger than life and death,

what is beyond human understanding.

Wise men will provide sophisticated reasons, yet experiences are meant to be felt,

and for that it is better to have experienced plenty.

Yet there are things in disbelief that stay, and believed ones that never occurred, yet the best of all this is to trust in Christ.

a wound that aches yet isn’t felt,

an always discontent contentment,

a pain that rages without hurting,

a longing for nothing but to long,

a loneliness in the midst of people,

a never feeling pleased when pleased,

a passion that gains when lost in thought.

It’s being enslaved of your own free will;

it’s counting your defeat a victory;

it’s staying loyal to your killer.

But if it’s so self-contradictory,

how can Love, when Love chooses,

bring human hearts into sympathy?

a wound that aches yet isn’t felt,

an always discontent contentment,

a pain that rages without hurting,

a longing for nothing but to long,

a loneliness in the midst of people,

a never feeling pleased when pleased,

a passion that gains when lost in thought.

It’s being enslaved of your own free will;

it’s counting your defeat a victory;

it’s staying loyal to your killer.

But if it’s so self-contradictory,

how can Love, when Love chooses,

bring human hearts into sympathy?

We continuously see new things,
Different in everything from hope;
Of the bad are the sorrows in remembrance,
And the good, if any, nostalgia.

Time covers the ground with a green mantle,
That was once covered with cold snow,
And finally, it converts the sweet song into tears.

And, apart from this changing each day,
Another change makes me astonished:
That life does not change as it used to.

may build every soul confident and resilient;

However, Fortune, Chance,Time and Fate are the ones to reign over this chaotic world.

Around a thousand things revolve the thought,

and does not know to which cause it should report to; yet knows what is larger than life and death,

what is beyond human understanding.

Wise men will provide sophisticated reasons, yet experiences are meant to be felt,

and for that it is better to have experienced plenty.

Yet there are things in disbelief that stay, and believed ones that never occurred, yet the best of all this is to trust in Christ.

a wound that aches yet isn’t felt,

an always discontent contentment,

a pain that rages without hurting,

a longing for nothing but to long,

a loneliness in the midst of people,

a never feeling pleased when pleased,

a passion that gains when lost in thought.

It’s being enslaved of your own free will;

it’s counting your defeat a victory;

it’s staying loyal to your killer.

But if it’s so self-contradictory,

how can Love, when Love chooses,

bring human hearts into sympathy?

a wound that aches yet isn’t felt,

an always discontent contentment,

a pain that rages without hurting,

it’s counting your defeat a victory;

it’s staying loyal to your killer.

But if it’s so self-contradictory,

how can Love, when Love chooses,

bring human hearts into sympathy?

a loneliness in the midst of people,

a never feeling pleased when pleased,

a passion that gains when lost in thought.

a wound that aches yet isn’t felt,

an always discontent contentment,

a pain that rages without hurting,

a longing for nothing but to long,

a loneliness in the midst of people,

a never feeling pleased when pleased,

a passion that gains when lost in thought.

It’s being enslaved of your own free will;

it’s counting your defeat a victory;

it’s staying loyal to your killer.

But if it’s so self-contradictory,

how can Love, when Love chooses,

bring human hearts into sympathy?

a wound that aches yet isn’t felt,

an always discontent contentment,

a pain that rages without hurting,

a longing for nothing but to long,

a loneliness in the midst of people,

a never feeling pleased when pleased,

a passion that gains when lost in thought.

It’s being enslaved of your own free will;

it’s counting your defeat a victory;

it’s staying loyal to your killer.

But if it’s so self-contradictory,

how can Love, when Love chooses,

bring human hearts into sympathy?