Cartas rasgadas.
(Revolta de um poeta)
Autoria: Marco Casagrande
Sempre que minhas mãos tremem e meus pensamentos fervilham vejo que a hora chegou.
Frases misturam-se em um lunático combate, para no final ver se a rima combinou.
O coração pulsa descompassado, e faz com que o suor role demostrando a emoção.
E o inicio é a parte mais difícil, pois nela é que se prende a atenção.
Só que em certos momentos a tristeza invade, pois a escrita para muitos não tem valor.
Então nestes momentos é que paro e penso, pra que escrever, pra que compor?
Sei que o fútil hoje é valorizado, ingrato dom de um poeta desvalorizado.
Poeta não é pop, poesia não prende a atenção.
Sinto-me um artista desvalorizado, sem alma e coração.
Quem sabe se o poeta escrevesse sobre um reality show ou algo ainda mais banal.
Talvez fizesse sucesso, e teria fama internacional.
Vejo que a cultura é cobrada nas mídias de radio e tv.
Mas são estas mídias poucas que dão devido valores a quem se predispõem a escrever.
Então fica aqui registrado meu protesto de um poeta caseiro que cobra por este valor.
Vou insistindo na poesia, pois tudo que escrevo e componho, não é por dinheiro ou fama, e sim por amor.
(Revolt of a poet.)
Author: Marco Casagrande
Whenever my hands tremble and my thoughts teem see that the time has come.
Phrases come together in a whimsical battle, the end to see if the rhyme combined.
The heart beats irregularly, and makes the sweat roll demonstrating emotion.
And the beginning is the hardest part because it is that holds the attention.
Only at times the sadness invades because the writing has no value for many.
So at this moment is that I stop and think, why write, why write?
I know that today is valued frivolous, ungrateful gift of a poet devalued.
Poet is not pop, poetry does not hold the attention.
I am an artist unappreciated, without heart and soul.
Who knows if the poet to write about a reality show or something even more banal.
Perhaps it was successful, and have international fame.
I see that culture is charged in the media of radio and TV.
But are these media because they give a few figures who are willing to write.
So here is a record my protest poet homemade charge for this value.
I insist on poetry, because everything I write and compose, not for money or fame, but bylove.
Author: Marco Casagrande
Whenever my hands tremble and my thoughts teem see that the time has come.
Phrases come together in a whimsical battle, the end to see if the rhyme combined.
The heart beats irregularly, and makes the sweat roll demonstrating emotion.
And the beginning is the hardest part because it is that holds the attention.
Only at times the sadness invades because the writing has no value for many.
So at this moment is that I stop and think, why write, why write?
I know that today is valued frivolous, ungrateful gift of a poet devalued.
Poet is not pop, poetry does not hold the attention.
I am an artist unappreciated, without heart and soul.
Who knows if the poet to write about a reality show or something even more banal.
Perhaps it was successful, and have international fame.
I see that culture is charged in the media of radio and TV.
But are these media because they give a few figures who are willing to write.
So here is a record my protest poet homemade charge for this value.
I insist on poetry, because everything I write and compose, not for money or fame, but bylove.
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