![](http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/5709/2947/400/742441/tomaacabeideascolher.jpg)
© [m.m. botelho] | manuscrito | novembro de 2006
Toma.
Acabei de as colher, há instantes
no jardim.
São para ti.
Abandona-as, se quiseres.
Pousa-as num qualquer banco
de uma qualquer rua,
como se de um livro velho
de poesia
se tratasse e lembra-te
de te esqueceres delas.
Deixa-as pousadas sobre as tábuas de madeira,
numa manhã de sexta-feira
sobre o orvalho de inverno.
Pode ser que o diabo as queira
para as queimar comigo na braseira,
ou para enfeitar o inferno.
Ou que alguma criança as apanhe
e as leve para casa,
ou algum bêbado as guarde,
enroladas
numa folha de jornal.
São da tua cor preferida.
Não deixei nenhum pormenor
ao acaso.
© [m.m. botelho], no local e no Tempo errados para te pensar, agora que em todos os sítios me é vedado pensar-te, ao som de 9 crimes, de Damien Rice, do álbum 9 [2006].
Leave me out with the waste / This is not what I do / It's the wrong kind of place / To be thinking of you / It's the wrong time / For somebody new / It's a small crime / And I've got no excuse
Is that alright with you? / Give my gun away when it's loaded / that alright with you? / If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it / Is that alright with you? / Give my gun away when it's loaded / Is that alright with you?
Leave me out with the waste / This is not what I do / It's the wrong kind of place /
To be cheating on you / It's the wrong time / but she's pulling me through / It's a small crime / And I've got no excuse
Is that alright with you? / Give my gun away when it's loaded / Is that alright with you? / If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it / Is that alright with you? / Give my gun away when it's loaded / Is that alright / Is that alright with you?
Is that alright? / Is that alright? / Is that alright with you? / Is that alright? / Is that alright? / Is that alright with you?
No...
Acabei de as colher, há instantes
no jardim.
São para ti.
Abandona-as, se quiseres.
Pousa-as num qualquer banco
de uma qualquer rua,
como se de um livro velho
de poesia
se tratasse e lembra-te
de te esqueceres delas.
Deixa-as pousadas sobre as tábuas de madeira,
numa manhã de sexta-feira
sobre o orvalho de inverno.
Pode ser que o diabo as queira
para as queimar comigo na braseira,
ou para enfeitar o inferno.
Ou que alguma criança as apanhe
e as leve para casa,
ou algum bêbado as guarde,
enroladas
numa folha de jornal.
São da tua cor preferida.
Não deixei nenhum pormenor
ao acaso.
© [m.m. botelho], no local e no Tempo errados para te pensar, agora que em todos os sítios me é vedado pensar-te, ao som de 9 crimes, de Damien Rice, do álbum 9 [2006].
Leave me out with the waste / This is not what I do / It's the wrong kind of place / To be thinking of you / It's the wrong time / For somebody new / It's a small crime / And I've got no excuse
Is that alright with you? / Give my gun away when it's loaded / that alright with you? / If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it / Is that alright with you? / Give my gun away when it's loaded / Is that alright with you?
Leave me out with the waste / This is not what I do / It's the wrong kind of place /
To be cheating on you / It's the wrong time / but she's pulling me through / It's a small crime / And I've got no excuse
Is that alright with you? / Give my gun away when it's loaded / Is that alright with you? / If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it / Is that alright with you? / Give my gun away when it's loaded / Is that alright / Is that alright with you?
Is that alright? / Is that alright? / Is that alright with you? / Is that alright? / Is that alright? / Is that alright with you?
No...