Ediney Santana

Ediney Santana Poems

Ediney Santana Biography

Ediney Santana is a poet from Bahia, Brazil. He is currently living in Brasilia, DF. He wrote books of poems and novels. It's the first time that has his poems are translated to English. Ediney Santana is among the best writers of his generation and now readers of the English language can have the first contact with his writings and his humanist worldview.)

The Best Poem Of Ediney Santana

Lonely Shadow

Zero






Start from scratch,
Start new
cut the roots, but never
Forget who I am!
Forget the glories, defeats. The past will not
Feed me
it doesn't matter
How many books I've read How many poems I've wrote, or the good feelings.
Start over!
No hurt feelings or anguish, Clean the streets,
Sweep houses, serve,
Be a Christian in the eternal cross Of my invisibility.


Light and books





My mother, who couldn't read or write
offered me books as salvation. She didn't want me to go blind like my parents
‘cause being unable to read or write is
blindness.
My mother saved me from the darkness of illiteracy.
For many years
I've been my mother's eyes Today, she can see on her own,
She offered me light and I gave her light.

Aged children




Dry restlessness, wind, aged children, ghosts fathers, mothers forever pregnant,
love is a word from deep hell, hate is
as free as pain.
Dawn rises on corpses,
Children are sold
in the white market, selective indignation, slave children,
they will be forever children.

Illusion






What I want from life is the delicacy of flowers attracted by the sun.
A friendly hug
Of shining mornings, To be the one who multiplies
green life in the desert.
I want the
aroma of the beloved heart. Courage to fight, love for peace.
The serenity of the simple things,
the forever encounter with good hearts,
Sword freedom in my hands.
To rest on the beloved lap in the calm afternoon.
Lord of my steps, I just wanna
be in someone's life and love deeply
Old Europe





Among cold and gray trees old Europe,
Dirty drops of blood come from the salty water looking for shelter.
Children's tears, aged screams teenagers dreams and old fears. The old Europe that once crossed the oceans in search of wealth, now build walls.
Desolate beaches where hungry spirits ask for help!
Where will the grave stand? the sea, the beach,
Or within the speeches of men
and women that have long forgotten the meaning of love.


My women



Black soul, black lives black women of my life, black uterus, black blood, white sorrow,
black joy,
White night, black sun, black tears, black solitude. White death,
black resurrection.
Black women
blood that feeds my life, Bless me!

Mother Earth


The world's poor are like the wind.
The world's poor are small fish in the sea. The world's poor when they die
There are no tears. The world's poor live, love, feel pain, happiness.
The poor are also people. but no one looks at us with eyes of compassion.
In this world
even love and life has a price.

Once there was a boy



Once there was a boy Who couldn't
stop writing. His room was full of of
paper filled with words in
blue pen.
The boy wrote on his body, walls, house,
His mother complained, but he continued to write.
The boy went on writing, writing, writing.
Time passed and all
that he had was
a giant collection of words.
One day, the boy
who couldn't stop writing died,
and then something
extraordinary happened All of his words were there
to mourn him and see him go, There were millions of words, saying goodbye in all languages
from everywhere all around the world.


Brasília




Ice crystals make a nest in the hearts liberty is a straight line in
immensity of blue infinity. lots of infinite space
are the arteries of this city,
Within these huge emptiness I feel at peace.
To be
happy in Brasilia, you need no friends Just be
a friend to yourself.
Brasilia teaches us the pleasure of solitude.
Brasilia is the delicate soul of the people who have not yet
acknowledge themselves as one nation.




Nature and nationalities



What are you if born in Brazil, United States, Sudan,
what's underneath a white skin, White or black?
What are you if born in Syria, Paraguay or Haiti?
Central America or China, North or South Korea,
What are you if born in Uganda, Portugal, Germany or France.
Looking down from the universe How many countries can we see?
Why does it matter where you were born? How can that determine whether you'll be loved or hated.
What are you if you are born on Planet Earth?
Does nature distinguish us in nationalities?


In my country



In my country there are monsters which are not from
science fiction movies.
In my country
the monsters are in the National Congress.
The monsters of my
country kill thousands of people every year,
They only care for money.
They feed on money,
the monsters of my country know that the people are only violent against themselves,
they are
seduced by these monsters. The monsters of my country are created by the people.
The monsters of my country's only weapon to destroy, kill and steal is called corruption.

Mother Zelina


Sacred Heart Mother, have mercy
on me.
Mother of divine hope, have mercy
on me.
Mother charitably, have mercy on me. Mother of Divine Love have mercy on me.
Dear mother,
take care of my heart, so that the
distress doesn't sadden my soul! Mother of light, be my mother.



Flying


Dragons and princesses, mermaids,
pirates, islands and treasures secret castles.
Magicians and speaking flowers dark days,
clear nights. Spaceships flying sharks, stellar songs,
parallel universe, hourless clock, time to love,
The one who ran away to find himself
has the power to
to love beyond himself.

South America


I was born in South America,
I live Latin passions
my country is divine alliance, decayed faith.
Rusty songs on the ropes of a guitar.
I was born in
Mundo Novo, a small town lost in its loneliness and sorrow.
I am an aged soul, southern american,
The world is the stage for who I am.


I heard Belchior


I was lost someday in a April morning. Bus passed,
the noises of their engines
I don't know why woke me.
Longing for the unknown, tears.
when autumn arrived, there was nothing else left.
I heard Belchior, the miracle didn't happen.
A dog
took his owner to walk.
God exists,
I exist, I am invisible.
In my eyes
there are always unfinished Sundays, all love is unkind.

My Dogs


Today is Sunday, I go for a walk with my dogs.
I feel happy
when I'm with my friends.
Perséfones is kind, she's got
black, sad eyes.
Francisco is hyperactive, he's got crazy eyes.
I walk down street 8, the sky is so beautiful.
I´m with my friends, I feel at peace.
It's simple to be happy, you just need friends.
Friends who needs nothing for friendship.
I'm happy with my two friends.

Syria



Today the birds of death threw bombs on us.
Yesterday we breathed poison.
There won't be old age in our days, we won't have any children.
Global indifference
is the name of our death. Next to me lies the future,
his face is one of thousands of other future dead.
A bloody girl runs,
two naked monsters run after her, they have rifles, they have no heart.
Knives kiss necks,
Our miseries are traded on the world stock market.
Someone laughs when death hugs us.
A green and delicate hope sits on a blood-stained blade.


Bipolar




At dawn I am delicate as Ballet dancers on ice.
I don't know what I feel: sun, rain, love, loneliness, war, peace gentle, rough.
Blender grinding feelings, essentially good,
but chance is the master of emotions.
When night falls, I miss who I was in the morning. She says she loves me, My day turns yellow.

My heart



In my heart There´s twilight Peerless with time.
Everything goes away But the twilight.
In my winter heart The stars are
my friends, they cover my body with salt,
and when the rain comes it carries me through.
Twilight is all that´s left of me.



Dictators



The bad side of living in a disguised dictatorship is that only dictators can
fully exercise
the democratic right to react.

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