Oook, oook here it is translated hahaha (even if I think that some expressions could never be well translated, there it goes. Enjoy. 😘🌹 yes, yes, read it.)
"When is time to go...
When is time to go
everything seems to push you...
You resist
Grab
Breath
Grab a little bit more
And the life pulls you in opposite direction
making the rope tighten and rip the fragile tissues of the skin of the hand
That insists in to hold
What is already not there anymore
But that in memory of weight yet exists
And generally, you hold on
When let go would be always the lightest option
The one that would hurt less
Or stop to hurt...
Aaaaah, how many nights and how many ropes to drop off
Just can't it be drop off of yourself
Or even if that it has marked once more, run there and grab it again
Not the stretched rope of that what makes you hurt
But what was left of yourself even in middle to the many hopes that insist in to continue screaming...
i am thus,
Always had difficulty in to let go
Projects
Lives
Pains
People
And loves.
Always at the bottom of the ear, the criticism
From those that don't understand a heart so full of life and belief in the future, not matter what.
The same voices that later congratulate you for the strength in to remain.
Big mistake this...
To listen.
Because only knows the real meaning of the mark that you bring in the hands, the person that held the rope.
The one that let go...
The one that left.
A somehow paradoxical this heart...
Full of passion for holding and keep all of that what loves and believes,
Into that what also terrified by new strings that the life presents.
Same pains, different lives.
New cuts on the calloused hands,
Caused by the illusion of the existence of strings that as a matter of fact, aren't there, but inside.
Aaaah, Fuck off the ropes!
You can't hold alone a whole future
Besides your own...
what is the future then? Besides the illusion of those that forget to live the now because are frightened too much in repeat a past of saturated hands by tighten ropes??
I wish the world could hear the music of the silence as i hear!
Of the things never said
Of the suffocated loves in the solitary nights
Of the peace felt in the almost "whatever" for almost everything that can be or even not be.
From the heart that screams from far and you hear
And connect
And sigh
And suffer.
Why not?
You know already what hearts full of fear can do: nothing! and that is exactly the problem.
Look here!
Listen to my silence...
Drop that rope!
And instead of deepen the cut of your hand holding the stretched line of the fear... hold then my hand! That also still bleeds.
Let the wounds heal to each other...
There's nothing more beautiful than allow yourself to believe... when everything in you is volcano for leave... the same agony that pushes you, pulls you back.
Aaah bitch hope!
Heart full of incessant fever
And it's not important anymore how many cuts you have or will have in your hands,
They are strong, and you already know that they will heal anyway.
But what about the black hole in the sky of this mind that never silents?
To what everything destroys and rebuilds.
I wish I could see in the middle of all this dark...
Never needed, in fact.
Behold that my mind is capable of create light in middle of any storm, between the weatherproof of any dark night...
The most beautiful stars can only be in fact seen, when there's no more sign of light.
Why is that has to be complicated?
Why is that has to generate texts about ropes
And darks
And pains
And cuts
And loves?
It should be only natural...
Nothing else.
Too much words words for what in truth cannot be said...
You know? After that I finally dropped off the first strings, couldn't imagine that after healed the wounds, its scars would hurt whenever i had to hold or grab any other thing that could... ropes or flowers.
Crazy life
Strange death.
Perhaps the beauty of all the things be exactly in this notion of unpermanency.
But souls like mine, that burns, that hold forever, that loves indeed, cannot simply accept the finitude of all the things... unfortunately.
Is that I have an ardent soul, as always stated. And that insists in move on.
And that even not seeking, always finds bloom in the ways that offer more than finals.
Why it has to be so difficult to believe in what you know in the deepest of your heart?
Why this feeling that is capable of embrace the whole world can't be enough?
Where ended up going the peace of the ruptured ropes?
So?!
It's that is very easy to be a walking source of hope when actually there are no more plans or dreams the crave.
Really hard is to deal with the resumption.
But this one for real.
Not that one of dropping the strings and never more hold nothing, haha, this is easy easy.
But allow yourself to believe that new ties are not strings and really hold again, aaaaaah... there is where is the thing!
I don't deny, I am afraid of ropes, ties, and don't carry bags anymore...
But yes I hold, hands.
Hands do not cut...
Even when they weigh, sometimes.
Too much subjectivity to try express the obvious.
Hands, ropes, fingers and rings...
voices floods of promises
Futures and more futures that would be gorgeous
if weren't only, futures.
I miss the now!
Either it cut or not.
Because as Frida, hurts in whoever be, I am used to pain.
they say that goes away the rings and stays the fingers. Aaaaaah
Friend, even if that would go off also the whole hands, will stay the will and daring of a soul that knows what wants!
Even if without the hands
Holding on with only wispers if it has to be!
Entire ives.
From a tale about fears and any pain...
From a love that pulses so much, and that wants so much, and that dreams so much, that already doesn't care anymore if loves alone, safe or full of stars.
How it can be?
How daring... to compare such wilderness with the mark of a shit of an old and torn rope.
Aaaaaah
How can it be, immeasurable state of existence occupying the same space and time that the bigger of all the pains?
Too much human?
I wish I could go away...
To a place in the stars
Comeback to the state of black hole of multiple possibilities and mysteries
Where all of this would remain sacred.
Far from the human vicissitudes and stray fears...
Of the mediocrity of the arrogance.
Where the real world don't transforms nothing in any return, destroying dreams, obliterating hopes.
No, no, there are nothing pessimistic here, by the contrary.
I already learned way before that the secret is that, holding or not to whatever may be, strings, ties or hands, should it take off the focus of the point where you hold and look around, or to the own balance of the life, and get marveled and laugh to all of this.
Then everything stays light and irrelevant.
The dot, stops of existing when we look to the whole line.
And the line in itself neither exists, isn't?
May it be time to go then,
Whatever it has to go.
It's easier to marvel yourself with the inconstancy of the life than fight with the change of each wind.
And i am gale.
Is that the people confuse the continue believing with having illusions in specific situations. oh if they knew...
Baby, is way deeper than this!
The hold on or drop off are mere illusions!
believe in itself has nothing to do with continue holding or not.
It goes beyond.
It's the soft smile on the face of who knows that everything in itself is necessary.
is the continue walking, smiling to the breeze, without concerning if by the front there will be this or that because the 'go straight' itself is what matter.
In the end, the lessons of the callus of barefoot feet are more important than any cut in the hands for having held anything.
To whom are you trying to lie?
Besides yourself?
Real freedom is to know that the tomorrow does not exist and don't waste the opportunity to commit mistakes now!
My bigger happiness is to know that am free for commit my mistakes...
And of the preciousness of my nows.
To hope, is to grab ropes.
To believe, is to hold hands.
love? aaaah, love is love... etheareously... with or without bodies ... being here or going, to love. In the love, there's nothing that can be held. tcharan!
because it transcends concepts, fears, rebuilds, transbordes the cups, floats beyond the carpets.
Be whatever it be, Is.
by a thread
holding the whole world
With the walking of a sight
and it has that go...
and it went.
and will go!"
"When is time to go...
When is time to go
everything seems to push you...
You resist
Grab
Breath
Grab a little bit more
And the life pulls you in opposite direction
making the rope tighten and rip the fragile tissues of the skin of the hand
That insists in to hold
What is already not there anymore
But that in memory of weight yet exists
And generally, you hold on
When let go would be always the lightest option
The one that would hurt less
Or stop to hurt...
Aaaaah, how many nights and how many ropes to drop off
Just can't it be drop off of yourself
Or even if that it has marked once more, run there and grab it again
Not the stretched rope of that what makes you hurt
But what was left of yourself even in middle to the many hopes that insist in to continue screaming...
i am thus,
Always had difficulty in to let go
Projects
Lives
Pains
People
And loves.
Always at the bottom of the ear, the criticism
From those that don't understand a heart so full of life and belief in the future, not matter what.
The same voices that later congratulate you for the strength in to remain.
Big mistake this...
To listen.
Because only knows the real meaning of the mark that you bring in the hands, the person that held the rope.
The one that let go...
The one that left.
A somehow paradoxical this heart...
Full of passion for holding and keep all of that what loves and believes,
Into that what also terrified by new strings that the life presents.
Same pains, different lives.
New cuts on the calloused hands,
Caused by the illusion of the existence of strings that as a matter of fact, aren't there, but inside.
Aaaah, Fuck off the ropes!
You can't hold alone a whole future
Besides your own...
what is the future then? Besides the illusion of those that forget to live the now because are frightened too much in repeat a past of saturated hands by tighten ropes??
I wish the world could hear the music of the silence as i hear!
Of the things never said
Of the suffocated loves in the solitary nights
Of the peace felt in the almost "whatever" for almost everything that can be or even not be.
From the heart that screams from far and you hear
And connect
And sigh
And suffer.
Why not?
You know already what hearts full of fear can do: nothing! and that is exactly the problem.
Look here!
Listen to my silence...
Drop that rope!
And instead of deepen the cut of your hand holding the stretched line of the fear... hold then my hand! That also still bleeds.
Let the wounds heal to each other...
There's nothing more beautiful than allow yourself to believe... when everything in you is volcano for leave... the same agony that pushes you, pulls you back.
Aaah bitch hope!
Heart full of incessant fever
And it's not important anymore how many cuts you have or will have in your hands,
They are strong, and you already know that they will heal anyway.
But what about the black hole in the sky of this mind that never silents?
To what everything destroys and rebuilds.
I wish I could see in the middle of all this dark...
Never needed, in fact.
Behold that my mind is capable of create light in middle of any storm, between the weatherproof of any dark night...
The most beautiful stars can only be in fact seen, when there's no more sign of light.
Why is that has to be complicated?
Why is that has to generate texts about ropes
And darks
And pains
And cuts
And loves?
It should be only natural...
Nothing else.
Too much words words for what in truth cannot be said...
You know? After that I finally dropped off the first strings, couldn't imagine that after healed the wounds, its scars would hurt whenever i had to hold or grab any other thing that could... ropes or flowers.
Crazy life
Strange death.
Perhaps the beauty of all the things be exactly in this notion of unpermanency.
But souls like mine, that burns, that hold forever, that loves indeed, cannot simply accept the finitude of all the things... unfortunately.
Is that I have an ardent soul, as always stated. And that insists in move on.
And that even not seeking, always finds bloom in the ways that offer more than finals.
Why it has to be so difficult to believe in what you know in the deepest of your heart?
Why this feeling that is capable of embrace the whole world can't be enough?
Where ended up going the peace of the ruptured ropes?
So?!
It's that is very easy to be a walking source of hope when actually there are no more plans or dreams the crave.
Really hard is to deal with the resumption.
But this one for real.
Not that one of dropping the strings and never more hold nothing, haha, this is easy easy.
But allow yourself to believe that new ties are not strings and really hold again, aaaaaah... there is where is the thing!
I don't deny, I am afraid of ropes, ties, and don't carry bags anymore...
But yes I hold, hands.
Hands do not cut...
Even when they weigh, sometimes.
Too much subjectivity to try express the obvious.
Hands, ropes, fingers and rings...
voices floods of promises
Futures and more futures that would be gorgeous
if weren't only, futures.
I miss the now!
Either it cut or not.
Because as Frida, hurts in whoever be, I am used to pain.
they say that goes away the rings and stays the fingers. Aaaaaah
Friend, even if that would go off also the whole hands, will stay the will and daring of a soul that knows what wants!
Even if without the hands
Holding on with only wispers if it has to be!
Entire ives.
From a tale about fears and any pain...
From a love that pulses so much, and that wants so much, and that dreams so much, that already doesn't care anymore if loves alone, safe or full of stars.
How it can be?
How daring... to compare such wilderness with the mark of a shit of an old and torn rope.
Aaaaaah
How can it be, immeasurable state of existence occupying the same space and time that the bigger of all the pains?
Too much human?
I wish I could go away...
To a place in the stars
Comeback to the state of black hole of multiple possibilities and mysteries
Where all of this would remain sacred.
Far from the human vicissitudes and stray fears...
Of the mediocrity of the arrogance.
Where the real world don't transforms nothing in any return, destroying dreams, obliterating hopes.
No, no, there are nothing pessimistic here, by the contrary.
I already learned way before that the secret is that, holding or not to whatever may be, strings, ties or hands, should it take off the focus of the point where you hold and look around, or to the own balance of the life, and get marveled and laugh to all of this.
Then everything stays light and irrelevant.
The dot, stops of existing when we look to the whole line.
And the line in itself neither exists, isn't?
May it be time to go then,
Whatever it has to go.
It's easier to marvel yourself with the inconstancy of the life than fight with the change of each wind.
And i am gale.
Is that the people confuse the continue believing with having illusions in specific situations. oh if they knew...
Baby, is way deeper than this!
The hold on or drop off are mere illusions!
believe in itself has nothing to do with continue holding or not.
It goes beyond.
It's the soft smile on the face of who knows that everything in itself is necessary.
is the continue walking, smiling to the breeze, without concerning if by the front there will be this or that because the 'go straight' itself is what matter.
In the end, the lessons of the callus of barefoot feet are more important than any cut in the hands for having held anything.
To whom are you trying to lie?
Besides yourself?
Real freedom is to know that the tomorrow does not exist and don't waste the opportunity to commit mistakes now!
My bigger happiness is to know that am free for commit my mistakes...
And of the preciousness of my nows.
To hope, is to grab ropes.
To believe, is to hold hands.
love? aaaah, love is love... etheareously... with or without bodies ... being here or going, to love. In the love, there's nothing that can be held. tcharan!
because it transcends concepts, fears, rebuilds, transbordes the cups, floats beyond the carpets.
Be whatever it be, Is.
by a thread
holding the whole world
With the walking of a sight
and it has that go...
and it went.
and will go!"
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