Cavalo Morto
Cavalo Morto is a place that exists in a poem by Ledo Ivo.
A poem by Ledo Ivo is a firefly who seeks a lost coin. Every penny lost is a swallow perched on the back light of a lightning rod. In a lightning rod is a prehistoric bee buzz around a watermelon. In Cavalo Morto drowsy watermelons are women who have heart amid the sound of a bunch of keys.
Cavalo Morto is a place that exists in a poem by Ledo Ivo.
Ledo Ivo is an old man who lives in Brazil and gets in the face anthologies crazy. In Cavalo Morto madmen have wings to fly and save back in its box matches words burned as if they were touched by the glow of another world. Another world is the bottom of a glass, a place where the right is a horseshoe and is a single evening coat lined with cloth.
Cavalo Morto is a place that exists in a poem by Ledo Ivo.
A place that exists in a poem by Ledo Ivo is a river that rises early to go to make the water of tears, rain little lies wounded by a spike acacia. In Cavalo Morto aircraft vapor laced with ribbons of sky as if the clouds were a Christmas gift and the happy and unhappy directly to racetracks up the ladder eternal ring gulls.
Cavalo Morto is a place that exists in a poem by Ledo Ivo.
A poem by Ledo Ivo is the lover of a sundial on tiptoe, leaving the hostel in the morning. The next morning they were going to say those were never found, who still loved each other and leave the arm with the breeze of the evening to celebrate the birthday of the trees and write scores with the ringer bicycles.
Cavalo Morto is a place that exists in a poem by Ledo Ivo.
Ledo Ivo is a school full of finches and a helmsman who sings in the saucer of milk. Ledo Ivo is a nurse who sells the waves and light bulbs with a kiss of ships. In Cavalo Morto all perfect things belong to another, as part of the nut of the nautical star raider heads postman sleepwalking and roses crowned Sunday in the light of domestic workers.
Cavalo Morto is a place that exists in a poem by Ledo Ivo.
Cavalo Morto in the death of a horse called Ledo Ivo to raise it when he dies an evangelist Ledo Ivo calls to raise it when he dies Ledo Ivo call the butterflies to tailor it resurrected. It from me, beautiful memories are fleeting like squirrels, each ending love is a graveyard of hugs and Cavalo Morto is a place that does not exist.
PD: Without a doubt, a great read that made his poem and, finally, one mind to another level, another dimension.
0 comments:
Post a Comment