Fog gone cold

Este poema, escrevi-o durante a minha passagem por Londres. É diferente em tudo do que actualmente escrevo e não deve ser encarado como um soneto de Shakespeare. Trata-se meramente de uma experiência. Mas achei que seria interessante publicá-lo.
I wrote this poem during the time I spent in London. It is absolutely different from anything I may now write and must not be looked upon as some sonet by Shakespeare. It is merely an experiment. But I thought it could be interesting to publish it.

The chilling winds in Avalon
Where greyness reigns from dusk till dawn
Conceal the night where vagabonds lurk
Beneath London's shadows and dreams at work

I dream the dream of Stonehenge's stones
Where magic's dust meets lover's bones
And ask thee now, ye faeries of old
Where true men lay and life gone cold

From mockingbirds I hear no sound
Apart from whines on sacred ground
Turned wasted land by fate, no faith

The time is all ours now to wait
While men-machines dictate the law
For ages new of nakedness raw.

Imagem de www.nyu.edu (tela de Claude Monet).

Poema de Joaquim Camarinha