"THE HAND THAT WEAVES"

Words
Turn water
The flower writes underground

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From the sky
Which was born yesterday
Camellias
Trembled

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Through me
Rivers flow
And desires
And disasters
In a body that evaporates
In an astonishment colored by moon

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Nostalgia or verse
The delicate hand
Plucks the harp
Melancholy in the mirror
Unveiling
The texture
There is a sketch in this painting
And no one approaches
Silence
A glass overflowing
Muteness

by Leonora ROSADO, in A MÃO QUE TECE, Nu Limbo Edi;\oes, 2025

*English translated by Armando TABORDA, 2025*