Song

I sing grief with joy
Nothing about me anymore
The Charm of Melancholy
To boil how much it ravages
To the soul the frenzied chance
Place what columbine
Laughter that gives grab
Search for lamp
Or another vegetable idea
Of those who perspire us
And the obsolete practice
Pusillanimous gives us the wrath
And what happens?
Love hopelessly
The being, a being, who dies
Love hopelessly.

Deilirium

So that life is not just heartbreak
And don’t give in to capricious arbitrariness
It is vital to raise the spirit to the limit of the symbol
Bringing from this strength the hidden deities
And the cruel stupor that brings the disease
Advance without fear the song of praise
For the charm of the dream of modesty
Settle doubts that clamor with clamor
Everywhere share the experience
That translates the transfigured life dream
In the most intimate and painful experience
In chaos do not fall or be vilified
Bringing customs and signs very close
Disguises of others not wanting
Sweet and warm memories of my parents
Juxtaposing correctly in crescendo.

Chat

Hello how are you doing
In the rigor of the night awake

  • I bring hidden things from the chest
    Secrets that shut me up
    And what do you like about libido
    Tempted by lustful voices
  • Ah, there I am unwary, uninhibited
    I surrender to impulsive prayers
    And when alone, what do you date
    From within the light of thinking
  • Then I run to look for the hours
    That light me in a fire
    And what reaps in amazement
    Of the fading memory
  • I will seal my tears
    That vanishes in the gloom.

21st Hour

Shine the mind in diaspora
The constant quibbling
That opens Pandora’s box
And makes her belligerent

In heavenly domains
Travel by creating planispheres
Between stars and portals
Leave the seed of mysteries

Myriad kaleidoscopes
Throb in the substrate
By the Pleiades
Seeking the Desiderate

In paranormal hallucinations
Of body and soul
Supernormal Experiences
Horizons without a soul?

Phosphor

Now it was light for who was burning
Do not be late, but
Leave our say
Who does not fit here
Stuck with himself
The poet with the world goes
It is veiled greasy
From the same filthy body
24 hours and already cocoon
Phoenix, subtle butterfly
From the brief null gesture
The glorious life is born.

Januário Esteves was born in Coruche (1960) and was raised near Costa da Caparica, Portugal. He graduated in electromechanical installations, uses the pseudonym Januanto and writes poetry since the age of 16. In 1987 he published poems in the Jornal de Letras, and participated over the years in some collective publications.

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