night bleeds into day

i. intro

Have you ever thought
How night bleeds into day?
When the moon cries away,
When sunlight forces you out
From your resilient shell,
Soul slowly naked
In this nostalgic farewell.

ii. hibiscus

I.
Suspira a tua melodia
Ao longo desta noite estrelada,
Delicadamente arrastada
De modo a completar o meu dia.
 
E se por alguma chance
Nos campos de ondas te encontrar,
Então que essa brisa de mar
Para os teus braços me lance.
 
II.
And when I look into your eyes-
Such deep see of golden fireflies
And promises under night skies-
I can certainly tell
How entranced I was in such spell:
That rollercoaster fall
Of what romance I’d like to call.

iii. ephemerality

Light showers down, melting
With the neon shades on your cheeks
And I wonder
How many moonlights has my soul portrayed
To be blessed by your sun.

Feathers float around, grasping
With the tips of your golden scarf
And I wonder
How many autumn leaves have I decorated
To be blessed by your sun. 

Tears stream out of rainclouds, harmonizing
With agonizing farewell sighs
And I wonder
How many deities have I wronged
To no longer be blessed by your sun.

iv. ode feminina

Lugar para tanta gente
Guardei no meu coração
Que, ao chegar a minha vez,
Espaço para mim era tentação:

Uma gaveta para ela
E outra para o seu amor,
Mulheres intrinsecamente dignas
A quem apenas Poesia atribui valor. 

Histórias de tantas outras
Guardei no meu coração
Que, ao chegar a minha vez,
Espaço para mim é perdição:

Um armário para as avós,
A quem de anjo só falta asa,
Visto que imensos filhos criaram
Com homem que nem pés punha em casa.

Quão diversas vidas
Guardei no meu coração
Que, ao chegar a minha vez,
Espaço para mim parecia ilusão:

Para mulher em corpo errado,
Toda uma prateleira,
Pois em questões de correção
Encontra-se uma guerreira.

Por viver na pele a dificuldade,
Elogiar a diferença tentei;
Falta somente à mãe o obrigado
Pela mulher que um dia serei.

v. walls of troy

Can't you tell?
That my hands go distant places when I talk,
That I stand in front of the mirror
Every morning
(the whole day)
Making sure my eyes and lips fit
The mix of a face sent to me.

Can't you tell
From the way I write?

Forgive me Father,
I have sinned;
Haven't yet found the blessed in me -
The ruined whole won't allow for a golden piece.

No apple at my feet,
No shepherd to pick it for me;
Not that I'd want him to,
Would vomit at the thought
Would rot my teeth green,
Last thing which qualifies my mouth
For Calamity's favourite fruit.

Oh Helen, my lady,
Can't you tell?

The fairest bring war
Can overtake galaxies
But let their strongest defense
Snap at a prophecy of wood.

vi. coronation day

Mistress of the sky stares right down
in utter bliss of the mess we have made;
the limbs, the grace as we gaze
back at her with respect.

It's a festival of colours
and the periscope of her sight
creates a marvel like no other.

Mistress of the sky slides to the earth
with perfection dribbling down her spine;
the limbs, the grace as we gaze
back at her with lust.

It's an altar of dedication
and the slight touch coming from her hands
makes the grounds tremble like no other.

Mistress of the sky resurges for another day
in a delicately danced arch;
the limbs, the grace as we gaze
back at her with admiration.

It's a concert drawn by husky melodies
and the dark hues of her heartbeats
shine like no other.

Mistress of the sky blinks right up
in standing ovation of our work;
the limbs, the grace as we gaze
back at her with love.

It's a poem of adoration
and the metaphors of her never-ending curves
bow humanely like any other

Admirer of the night sky.

vii. ocean tides

The waves crash then settle
and with our love they meddle:
because my body hugged them so tenderly,
they've decided not only do I deserve you
but all of myself, gingerly,
blessed with the kiss of Nature,
feeling each inch being reborn.

The waves crash then settle
and with our destiny they meddle:
because there is no higher power
in this welcoming land
than the purely blessed water
I allow them inside my lungs
and chuckle liquidly as I choke.

The waves crash then settle
so with them I won't meddle:
because the thrill overwhelms
my fragile human corpse,
miraculously allowed in these heavenly realms,
I find respect for a new religion
while Holy Mother stares deep within.

Thanks to Her, I'm born again;
I trust my body into the tides
and whatever their blue crystal hides,
accept the loss of my surroundings
with our otherwordly bindings.

Thanks to Her, I'm born again;
I trust her children with my soul
and welcome their warmth as a whole,
realise I've transcended to my Eden
with no will to come back for you.

 

viii. celestial bodies

art available @ moonlight gallery

Goddess of the above,
Celestial, imperial.
Worshipped by so many of us;
Reached by so little of us.


Oh goddess of the above,
Will you give us your answers?
Name?
A small taste of you?

White mystery splashed over blue victory.

ix. coroa de louros

art available @ moonlight gallery

vem ter comigo à sombra
do loureiro,
vem ter comigo à sombra;

onde os escaravelhos bebem o chá das cinco
e o meu corpo encolhe com um copo de absinto,
alice neste país das maravilhas
de onde o artista foge a milhas.

vem ter comigo à sombra
do loureiro,
vem ter comigo à sombra;

para que o sol não ultrapasse o teu brilho,
menina dourada, cor de milho,
tão nova e tão desgastada de estar em pé
à espera de ser reconhecida pela ralé.

vem ter comigo à sombra 
do loureiro,
vem ter comigo à sombra;

onde somos todos iguais e cansados
do custo do papel, artistas desolados
como cristais, que de dia perdem a cor
e de noite refletem a dor.

vem ter comigo à sombra
do loureiro,
vem ter comigo à sombra
e deixa as palavras partir na penumbra.

x. lost woman's eulogy

raindrops
create a tune in a piano of leaves,
that countryside abandoned city of us
where something cotton soft weeps;

dreams
of something i can barely recall,
that garden of abundant souls
where your devil mask began to fall;

lovers
turn strangers in a repeptitive dance,
that ballroom of exasperated heartbeats
where you took the villain's final stance;

sleep
the final slumber of a wasted life,
the nostalgic coward's way out
where you lived as his suburban wife.

xi. unknown devotion

i collected daisies and prayed to gods
only to apologise for not believing,
incomprehensible faith which defrauds
the blue out of my eyes leaking;

and, in this sole sea of mine,
i selfishly pictured a companion in you,
entity i'll never reach despite the whine
my ink has bled true through tune.

with so many things to do,
i kiss our lyrics goodnight
and yearn for the extra verses due,
left behind the stone cold sight

of your pen's very own irish goodbye.

“Night Bleeds into Day” is a poetry collection about the world, the pain and love existing in it and the hope beyond this galaxy, held in a 11:11 wish. It is composed by works in both English and Portuguese with occasional illustrations by Inês Branco. As of the 1st of December 2024, the collection has been completed. [ All rights reserved to Débora Francisco © downpouring ]