the morning after (was: Manha de carnaval)

[billy]

hi serge. not sure the vid adds anything it wouldn't add to any other poem. so it sort of wastes time getting to the text. same with the french and portugues . much better to write them in English and use the asterisk on the lines of french a porto in the footnote. i'm fine with googling a word i don't know, in fact i enjoy broadening my vocabulary but if i wanted to broaden my language base i'd have took up language courses. on that score, i expect the poet to do all the work for me (unless it's a really common phrase that english people are well versed in. i enjoyed the closing of the poem. it has a nice serenity about it, all in all the writing is good.

I lay down these notes now
for everyone to read.

Papers about a mission lost

http://youtu.be/nJJcW9YTlG4


I grew up with my head hidden
under bushes close to the road.
You can tell, I was scared.

It did not get better later.
Same shame and same panic.
I was good at making me trouble.
Pour rien. For nothing,
Just for being.

If you’re unwanted
by your mom, You feel guilt.

I am sorry that I am. i like the dual levels of this line, sorry that you are as in entity and sorry that you're unwanted.

You can tell I was scared of i could go for this if you were going to use it as a refrain throughout the poem but the one repeat makes it feel unwarranted.
life always.

I worked my way around people.
Staid at home.
masturbating my dreams great image, not that i want to see it
of luck to come.
It did eventually
but I was too old then
to grasp it really.

Festival da alegria;
I work my way up
to dance on Brazilian beeches. nice snapshot.

I am free now
but its late.
Si tard maintenant.

I am sorry that I am. again here, i have the same problem as the repeating scared line.
Michel Tournier’s Canada
est mon Brésil.
I feel at home best alone.
I care not about clichés.

I am here. I live

still


É a coisa mais linda que eu ja vi passar.*
Most beautiful thing I ever saw passing by.

Will she love me?
She did and I lost her again.

These days I mainly cover up time,
sometimes sadly assuming she must be alive.
But these are daydreams.

I read books to her, soft-voiced,
she fell asleep then.

I kissed her tenderly
and now she is gone
and I went to her graveyard
once only.

The pain's still too big
to be fixed.

I can't. i enjoyed the closing of the poem.

-----------------
* Garota de Ipanema