Poem by Valda Fogaça
the divine tragedy
When I read the history of humanity
I have the strange feeling that we are
” vultures over the human life
To eat and then return to your den “,
“but not everything is rotten meat”.
The Arts in its wide sense, science,
Philosophy are smells of life and comedy,
And frustrated bitter ambitions.
Religions are parables that aliena the five
Continents; it’s hypnosis, the causes
Of collective blindness.
In a free state is a portrait of all
Travelers aboard the ship, away from their lands
Christmas, on the way to the uncertain future, in case paradise;
And who dares to write about this future?
Even they won’t give them false truths.
Moses wrote “the laws of God”, the story of
Your people on signs and papyri, those who came after
Of him wrote on papyri and scrolls.
“the holy inquisition”, the jihads were written in papers,
However, I write in the clouds demystifying myths and fables.
While the dream of these scribes sour, especially,
For Modern mine become crystals
Future generations? My pen is a knife
Cutting Apple brain, fog and obfuscation
I hope i will spend some time
With this pen and my stories I will
Sharing them with my grandchildren children.
Brasilia 13/8/2018 valda