Our kiss



I know they also told you

about fear

and hate

us being excluded

from their feast

from our fate

from our fading eternity


You learned very well how to hide

and eventually forgot

that longing

for truth

and denied

a lovely place in our smile

where our life is our destiny


Our kiss is the kiss

from that time

when first two were really surprised

finding darkness, sadness

and light

beyond one’s cage of body or mind

caressing chaos with synergy


El Matallana



So you care about something, ah?
I just don’t care
Truth is nothing but a version of power
Our history has been raped
and cautiously re-written
with their dubious central symbols

You are just an eco
a sad reflection
of those ideas never own
so desperate to repeat yourself
so eager to be someone
for someone
who is no one

Your tears don’t move me anymore
Your version of love is full of hate
Beauty for you is now a way
to poorly disguise your ugliness…

I see you from my noisy silence
observing how you observe
so lost in your time of violence
so drowned in your given name

El Matallana

Memória/Memory – Carlos Drummond de Andrade

– Original:




Amar o perdido

deixa confundido

este coração.


Nada pode o olvido

contra o sem sentido

apelo do Não.


As coisas tangíveis

tornam-se insensíveis

à palma da mão.


Mas as coisas findas,

muito mais que lindas,

essas ficarão.


– My non official translation for Johanna von Kietzell:




To love what is lost

leaves this heart



The oblivion can´t do anything

against the meaningless

appeal of No.


Tangible things

turn to be intangible

at the palm of the hand.


But the things that finished,

so much more than beautiful,

those will remain.


Carlos Drummond de Andrade (1902 – 1987)


For more information:






El mundo está lleno

pero vacío

sólo por momentos

las lágrimas de las diosas

y los dioses

riegan la seca vida

con belleza…


Mi corazón es un cuenco

muy pequeño

que se agota





Mi ser rueda

en la estepa

perdido en busca

de tal lluvia


Mi alma es una esponja

algo húmeda

en poema


El Matallana

Fin del mundo

Hay un llanto en el mundo

como si el querido Dios se hubiera muerto,

y la sombra plomo que cae

pesa como sepultura.


Ven, escondámonos más juntos…

La vida yace en todos los corazones

como en ataúdes.


Tú, besémonos profundo –

llama a la puerta un anhelo por el mundo

en el que morir tendremos.


*Traducción no oficial de “Weltende” de Else Lasker-Schüler (1869-1945)