JANUARIO ESTEVES
Suppose
Suppose that between the tall grass
Where ants scour
You like a wading bird
White doves cooing
Let us raise knowledge in the afternoon
That we want, crazy for no reason
Without competing us choose
What ignored tells us the heart
Let's stop the substitute time
On the sly we will make such a game
Than the soul agrees with us
The light of you to the Gods
Enlist naked minds
Among flowering colloquia
So that between your words
Other forces are regained
Finally fallen we cried
Being like this, bounded by contraries
Pursued by what we love
Out of soul, revolutionaries?
String quartett
I put my eyes on life and cried
To the winds my misery
What I was, what I am, what I will be
It's not very serious
I'm dumb and sad
I cross social levels
Whatever happens to me, I move forward.
I regret trivial feelings
Afternoon I finally reach them.
I'm bored with bored eyes
Too much laziness abysmal
It takes me from harassment
Finally,
Painful and revolting magazines
In light I hurt my pride
In the mouth the bitter of pronunciations
Understanding without reason
It's as twisted as I am
Give name to heart
Immolate the root of the wood.
Adagio
Slaving is living
When everything erupts from you
Sunshine that makes us see
Time that does not corrupt
Prayers hallelujah sing
To the creation of your being
In sharpening spells
The treats of seeing you
In a dream journey landed
Boil the warm nights
And it is transfigured there
That the hours are valid.
Sinfonietta
Now it was light for who was burning
Do not be late, but
Leave our say
Who does not fit here
Stuck with himself
The poet with the world goes
It is veiled greasy
From the same filthy body
24 hours and already cocoon
Phoenix, subtle butterfly
From the brief null gesture
The glorious life is born.
Januário Esteves was born in Coruche and was raised near Costa da Caparica, Portugal. He graduated in electromechanical installations, uses the pseudonym Januanto and writes poetry since the age of 16. In 1987 he published poems in the Jornal de Letras, and participated over the years in some collective publications.