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 WANDERLINO ARRUDA      250171 Poems Read


        Wanderlino Arruda

The color of the sky is which I choose first,
and it doesn't need to be blue.
It can be white, yellow,
rose-red, with a touch of moss-green
in dreams of emeralds.
Skies also can be gray,
that is the ungrateful color.

Seen up close,
seen off far,
waves tone on tone
in afternoons of the southern wind.
Colors are movements
in soft shades of light.
What is underneath the sky,
in the touch of the hour
and my disposition,
there can be seas, there can be rivers,
with boat or without boat,
or a trail in a glade.

What can't be missing are mountains,
because they give us distance,
as Minas Gerais is from the sea.

The landscape is made of rocks,
roads, curves, perspective,
light-dark, composition.
What gives joy to the painter's brush
more than the colors,
more than the rhythm,
is the pleasure of creation.
To paint the beauties of life:
the painter's work is to paint.


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