Life! A dead end.



Walking through the dirty alleys of the city streets,
Where evil has its place.
The lie and the truth no one can tell.
Androgynous beings sell love.
The kind of love that can not be explained.

Nightclub, bar drinks and cafes, meeting of loners,
Meetings of perversos.
Where men are not men, nor women are women,
Exchange of absurd values.
Shouted mute, only listen to who is deaf,
Understand with your eyes who you want, who you want.

A painting, a graffiti in ink.
Work by an artist from Beijing, Maybe from Seoul or Ho Chi Min.
Picture of a child in the arms of another child. Mother!
A baby with oriental features,
Being offered to others, it's too much!

An alert image, which perhaps the city,
Want to fix uncertain life;
Of the rapes, prostitutions, debaucheries of the night,
Nights of thieves, pimps and prostitutes.
The march of uncertainties and their struggles.
The lonely nights of empty lives.
They exchange the night life and let themselves die for the day.

From my apartment in the middle of the city I see the world
And its irregularities.
I breathe in the smoke from cars and inhaled drugs.
I see lost lives in the gutter,
Looking through the windowpane I also see my life stagnant.
Standing over the dirty alleys of the city.
I see there are lives that are worthless.

                                                                   

                                                                                                       Francisco Gouveia

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