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They Were Thorns, They Were Prose

Manuela Moura Guedes

Foram Cardos, Foram Prosas

Há luz sem lume aceso
Mas sem amar o calor
Há flor de um fogo preso
Há luz do meu claro amor

Há madressilvas aos pés
E águas lavam o rosto
Dedos que tens em resvés
Ó meu amante deposto

Não foram poemas nem rosas
Que colheste no meu colo
Foram cardos, foram prosas
Arrancadas do meu solo

Porque tu ainda me queres
O amor que ainda fazemos
Dá-me um sinal se puderes
Sejamos amantes supremos

Será sempre a subir
Ao cimo de ti
Só para te sentir

Será no alto de mim
Que um corpo só
Exalta o seu fim

They Were Thorns, They Were Prose

There's light without a lit flame
But without loving the warmth
There's a flower of a trapped fire
There's the light of my clear love

There are honeysuckles at our feet
And waters wash the face
Fingers you have in reverse
Oh my deposed lover

It wasn't poems or roses
That you gathered in my lap
They were thorns, they were prose
Torn from my soil

Because you still want me
The love we still make
Give me a sign if you can
Let's be supreme lovers

It will always be rising
To the top of you
Just to feel you

It will be at the top of me
That only one body
Exalts its end

Escrita por: Miguel Esteves Cardoso / Ricardo Camacho