JTParreira Posted May 13, 2009 Share Posted May 13, 2009 Paris in that night had the light distributed for the drops of rain Sartre and Beauvoir were not there In Café de Flore, three or four spoons of sugar drowned the bitter taste of the coffee, they drank it first my eyes as a ritual, my lips later In my language I would write a previsible poem Other times, Paris was a bluish air bit. J.T.Parreira Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted May 13, 2009 Share Posted May 13, 2009 This one has some original images and expressions. I especially like the first couplet and the last line: Paris in that night had the light distributed for the drops of rain ... Other times, Paris was a bluish air bit .... I remember this one from the old board. Thanks for sharing it again here. Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aleksandra Posted May 13, 2009 Share Posted May 13, 2009 Yes lovely poem and good because you post in two languages. This one have some special sense. Thank you for sharing Joao. Aleksandra Quote The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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