The poet's heart

How can you, dear heart?

So decided on the paper

Write about love and sensations

And see yourself lonely in the crowd.

It is performed in poetry,

This one beat of all beats

Of all my living emotions

So primitive, in unprepared love

To the world around.

The poet is a pretender

I feature myself when versing

Every line that speaks to you

Enclosed in a poet soul

Who does not know how to love.

Fool, so fool! Who sees us as

Authors from life itself

Plunging into the pool of lost people.

Oh! When we pretend only

Someone who aspires to be something else.

Writing is an act, living is a fact.

I always liked it better the action and

Adventure that inhabit the mind

Ah! I wonder how

I can get away of this reality

That I know nothing about.

Ana Laura Marins