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91. PROTAGORAS OF ABDERA
91. PROTAGORAS OF ABDERA
PROTAGORAS OF ABDERA It would be three In that bathroom Of parquets with a sweet ballerina, Counting so many Moments, won, Between repeated Faces. Love a face so much Release it into the air Look at it to understand a win ...
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Measure it, palpate it until When the hand moves away Not finding her to leave her
Measure god the same Reach out to touch Float with her, Accepting to be blind Even shout in case it's far away And not hear a word.
The real thing is her. Return, Measure the streets And find it.
On the stage Every step; Every move; Delicate ecstatic; One after another without losing the thread. On the way out I went with others, Between confidences, It was a trap.
To measure other paths Because I am the measure And there is no measure, Let it be shortened and clouded, For him. Renegade Dreaming of the old brothels of the calendar transposing the breeze that rocks the atom of thirst and his tireless nap from the dew. With eyes stuck, from jump to jump, against five snakes. In the end Into the fire From a quarry Playing To the aces.
