Cough
The gentle touch entered like an arrow
The body shivered like a heel,
He contemplated his disgrace
And his heroic feelings
From the chest to the eyes
Desire increased,
From the eyes to the chest,
The heart raced
With the measure he measured
He was soon measured,
With the arrow he launched
He saw himself wounded
The vows were then made:
He wielded the sword
Kissed its blade
And sheathed it
For he did not know what it was,
But knew what it could be
He felt too consciously
To know what to say…
Then there was serene shyness
There was sweet silence,
There was youthful vigor
The wine shone in their glasses,
Red in color,
Like the garments of Bacchus:
It moved smoothly
To the movement of hands
The smile shone on their faces
Revealing youth
That in the field of time,
Unaware of nostalgia,
Do nothing for eternity
There was no spectacle,
There was no trap.
There was no bitterness.
There was no poetry.
They loved each other
Once again,
Not for the last time.
They added up
Once more,
Until the end.
They were made by silence
And no longer by what they said,
They did not state, they felt
Felt.
Then as if by magic,
Conceived on the highest mount,
The kiss unfolded on parchment
Confining infinity and immensity,
In it was sanctified and, immobilized,
Listening attentively to that prayer:
Without subject, it was only predicate
Without quantity, it was only quality
His wisdom was to be nothing
His love was to be everything.
He felt as if God,
For a single minute,
Quenched hunger with food
Resolved war with peace
Contained disease with the cure
Embraced anger with equality,
Revived as a healthy and free boy,
Eternal child who knows not the whip,
Without Lord and without pain
Without martyrdom or cross,
This.
And be.
And if?
Glory to the Most High on earth
Glory to the Most High in me!
For a minute men would see each other as men
And in the next minute nothing would return to normal.
Everything would be as it is:
An eternal divine instant.
The kiss ceases like a young drag,
Strong and sensual,
Able to take time with the lungs
And bring it back the next minute,
Even though the damage is done,
She moves away slowly,
With new eyes
And a wide smile
While he,
With weak legs,
And a warm chest,
Cough.
– João Narciso