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quarta-feira, 2 de março de 2011

Rasa Shringara

  


Dance with me - my delightful queen
your boughs of bard
are nests 
for homeless birds
and your tender whisper
keeps luring
 more than a thousand
words.

Dance with me - my secret epiphany
all chinese folios
are signing in the trees
the way to her
the way 
to Jeanne of Orleans


the homeless
will keep following you
while you
holding a golden tiara
in you hair
and purple diamonds
in your breasts
in your land of gardenias
you'll rise again


dancing
on the edge
of my fantasies
all dressed in sari
you hold the key
to an hidden memory
restless doves
gathering
like an ancient tale
as we hear
Lord Krishna's flute
recalling 
winged knights 
carving promises in ebony






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