“ I spent one hour thinking of a verse
my pen does not want to write.
yet, it is here inside
restless, alive.
it is here inside
and does not wish to get out.
but the poetry of this very moment
overflows my whole life.
my pen does not want to write.
yet, it is here inside
restless, alive.
it is here inside
and does not wish to get out.
but the poetry of this very moment
overflows my whole life.
— carlos drummond de andrade, poetry (via kruczynski)
(via leopoldgursky)
