terça-feira, 22 de setembro de 2015


Blessed the hands
who dried my tears.

Blessed that soft touch
that calms my sadness.

Blessed that angels voice
almost music, almost whisper.

Blessed the kiss,
the gentle touch of the lips,
the sweet caress
that made my blood sing,
the breath whispering,
the senseless words.

Blessed the day
our eyes crossed.
Blessed that magic fragment of time
our hearts stopped
and our skin burned of desire and mute pleasure.

Blessed that day and all the days since then,
and bless also
all the nights,
yet to come.

©Graça Costa

                                                     Yuriy Ibragimov