Original subtitles

The satellite is the orbit of the world, abyss of dreadful things,

people who steal your sleep, ornaments of errant colors...

Hot neighbor and princess, skinny in her sane madness,

cry of joy, suburbl.

Weeps to terror in terror.

Stuck in very short skirts, faggots, thieves, cripples...

Abyss world, grand world.

Up there, behind the mangrove,

rests the insomnia, the knife and the saw,

the job, the sex and the blood.

Abyss dark world, deep the hole

throbs the burden of your streets, throbs the ruminant cry.

Cry of "no", world and abyss.

Cry of "no"I For my world abyss.

Two, Rat, Rat... Rat... My dear people of Iran-Iraq.

Why so much war? The official mouths may shut, but never the poetry.

And my mouth is pure poetry. Immoral, but poetry.

Snarling, but poetry. Belched, and even though, poetryl.

The Newspaper "Rat Fever" keeps on serving as a vehicle

against the interests of the dominant classes,

being it in whatever instance it may: Of rich against poor,

poor against poor, middle-class against poor,

middle-class against middle-class!

The old shoes were leaned, without the basin, in the backyard,

where the rats would go and fro, with the phenomenal part of the rotten food,

the old shoes, under the filthy leaking of the sink, vomited by the sow,

who live up there, look! Beside you all!

I can't wait the time, to raise my sword, not with the rude fencing belief,

but with the unmerciful rage of the monkeys!

Thank you so much my people, I'm leaving, but I return.

Thank you very much.

Give me it, Potty-Mouth!

Bira is as crazy as a rutty bitch,

and keeps wanting my tip. Hey there, smoke it, damn!

Hey Mouth, don't you know you have to deliver Zizo's stuff?

I've already prepared it, and, I'll take it later.

That one is so crazy, you know... Crazy and intelligent!

He's not stupid like me, oryou...

This one here is even more!

That's why he's kicked on his ass!

But Zizo also likes kicks, you know?

He likes to be kicked, and screw old ladies.

He screws those old ladies till late!

He's a warrior, isn't he? For St. George!

Old ladies are like rocks!

And, is it true he screws his own mother?

A real punk screws his mother in the tank!

Isn't that a proverb?

- Yeah, that's it. - A proverb...

I heard he takes Marieta to the tank and there he screws the old!

He screws the old lady? No, it's too much!

- Are you adding or subtracting? - I'm subtracting...

And..., weren't you varnishing your nails right now?

But now I'm cleaning them. I hated the color.

Hey, Jaguar! What a provoking song!

Look at this beat...

Suddenly, in the soul, this gift we feel.

See how he's ill, see, who's ill, he's multi-appeal,

multi-appeal... And lucky-will.

And what? Lucky-will?

Do it, artist!?

Look who's arriving! Excuse me!

My Poet!

The dream supplier, disseminator of colors!

Potty-Mouth, my brother, sit with us.

Thank you. Hi Angel..., Stella Maris, how are you?

Where have you been? It's been over a week...

- Really? - Yes.

I was working... the rush.

Then, the weed is delivered... the special one!

Praise the condemnable customs!

Patience! Put some sugar in my bowl!

Want to kill me of thirst, bloody tailless devil?! Go on!

Here it is. Are you coming on Sunday, for the barbecue?

Yes, for real!

Take Rosangela, the kids 'cause I'm making a bloody great party!

The limbo of pleasure in absolute Easter, to open up heaven!

Jaguartold he's taking his keyboard to play music for us.

Really?

Yes. I met Wanessa. She was annoyed, she came to grips with Spade.

I don't know who ate the forbidden fruit, if you understand what I mean...

You know howthey are.

Mutual disagreements...

So, say a beautiful word for her, to smooth the moods.

Both! Two daring find fulfillment! Like this.

That's why I say laud and sound, for everyone to hear!

That, I think Wanessa & Spade is a bloody great couple!

So what? Clapping hands, knowing nothing...

She's more lost than a bastard in Father's Day!

Lady Angel... Are you well?

Kiss my mouth, pub's blossom! Go on!

Hello, hello! People of Asylum Street! Get the "Rat Fever"!

It's just being wise, this city gets strong and inebriates me,

and thus, bare yourselves, old and cretin.

Large bridge shadows over lives, tables plenty of hunger, in the corners.

Proverbial disgrace of the world! Whore, in front of hertorturer.

Spits his victims, kisses his boss's feet.

At sight, he cherishes the fine letters of this city's alphabet which is reinvented

on the unlivable things! No missing!

And us, living-dead, here, in this unburied daylight, watching the river,

with rogue nobility, running to the sea, out of the track, lofty, and plumb.

Old islands...

- So what? - Me? Nothing.

You're so funny, Zizo.

You know I know nothing about poetry,

and keeps reading them for me, wishing my opinion...

What I thing? I thing it's beautiful. I like things I don't understand.

You'vejust told your opinion, see? You're my thermometer, Spade.

I like when you like what you don't understand.

Let's go to the bar? And Wanessa?

That bitch... Look, I quiverjust thinking.

Her knavery became an addiction. I don't want to talk about that.

I think you're the best couple I ever met.

But to that nest I never return, neither in a straitjacket,

nor even pulled by Satan's hand.

Go back, Spade. You will.

Couple! Just a dead one!

People, Spade, they talk about future, changing...

But they don't care about what's really changing.

They've lost the capacity to fight for changing. They've unlearned.

The imbecility has won the war. The winner bears the truth and what remained

is that, we can see. Nothing!

There is no: Collective spirit, bloody nothing!

Look there, the festival of the narrow,

the caravan of the unaccomplished miracles. The logic of the tiny navel.

Sex without pleasure, soccer without ball!

The bloody mouth without tongue!

Look, Spade!

Little angel, which harm have you done?

- Yes, but it may be a dwarf. - It can be a dwarf.

We can't measure the experience by its length.

It's like qualifying the beverage by its bottle. Isn't it?

I thing so! I return.

- Wanessa! - Come in, Ro.

Sweetheart, what a face!

That's the only one I have.

What happened, darling? Be cool.

Let's sit a little. What happened?

I think he'll never return to me.

But, why did you do that? Didn't you know he'd disapprove?

I didn't! I only make mistakes!

So, stop, relax, stop! Let's smoke one to relax?

OK. Look, it's all in his hands!

- Potty-Mouth sent it to you. - Really?

Mouth said Poet was talking to Spade. Everything is going to be all right.

- Do you really think? - Look, do you like him?

My!

- You're a romantic... so in love... - I am.

- Hey! Stop looking at me, Angel! - Thinking you're the cherry on the pie?

- The cherry or me! - Both. But I really preferyou!

It's so hot here!

I want some freshness, may I, Poet?

You have your own legs and arms, and my will, Angel.

This summer is the hottest ever! It's the warming effect, burning me!

What a roasting heat!

It's delicious! Really nice!

- Really nice? - Come, poet!

- So nice? - Very nice!

- Only Stella Maris deserves your poems?! - Bloody hell!

- OK, you... - Let's compose a poem for you!

- My angel from hells! - Come, my pest!

The worse thing in the world

is the conduction of love when it becomes mockery.

What is the anarchy facing thejail of the sick passion?

Gosh, it's really cold! Piss to warm it.

I am! I am pissing! I am!

It's warm now!

The wrinkled poetry is the real sense of life.

And when I talk poetry, the poetry quakes.

When I talk poetry, the poetry shivers.

When I talk poetry, the poetry blurs.

When I talk poetry, the poetry fouls.

Poetry, Poet. Love. Poetry, poetry, poetry!

Let's agree to save the possibilities.

Aso free agreement, with no need to be respected.

Actually, in this deal the respect vanishes for being unnecessary.

The word will give place for the friendship.

And there will be no the idea of yesterday ortomorrow's anguishing.

And the present's blame will be dissolved in the inconsequent acts.

And will be the same for everyone.

The same for cock, for ass, and for pussy!

I offerthe flame forthat refutable fire!

Hey, go! Go out!

Go Judas! Vanish, Judas!

No, lady! I'm herejust because of Zizo!

Zizo is really sweet, isn't he? Fire?

How could you do that to me, Wanessa?

How? Tell me! I'm always around, I do my job. Tell me, Wanessa!

I don't know. Something happened to me. Then, I did that.

But look, I'm quite repented.

Regret solves nothing, Wanessa!

And don't crawl! I don't like crawling women!

I don't like lizards! I don't like snakes!

I'm not violent, and won't kick you on yourface! Never!

But something remains in my stomach...

Something very bad! Avomit.

Look, if you aren't able to stop doing it... Patience...

Now, I'm not Josh from the Bible, to stand a leprotic woman!

Very funny!

Funny what? What is funny, you, disgraceful thing?

- You, Spade, you. - Why?

I tell you all the truth. And what do I get from it? A kick!

- It's different. - It's not.

- It is. - From what?

- It's different! - From what?

- You do know it's different! - Different...

Different from what, Spade? We both have a cock.

The only difference is that I have boobies and you don't.

I depilate my body to be hot, and you don't.

So, tell me, what's the difference? What difference do we get?

And still so, what a difference would it make?

I don't want to talk about it anymore! I'm upset!

Not upset! I'm furious, really furious! Really angry!

Anger! That's what I just ask you... Just that!

Look, stay out there, and I stay here.

Each bird in his nest, you know?

Where did you find that, Spade?

Each bird in his nest!!! For God's sake!

God does not exist!

- Mouth, it's too much... - What a bloody hangover!

Hop, little rabbit, hop, hop, hop. Hop, little rabbit, don't stop.

Hop, little rabbit, don't stop...

- Hey, there'll be barbecue at Zizo's. - Really?

- Remember? - Yes, but, wait! Stay, for a while...

Let's go! There'll be food, dude! There's none here!

Let's take a shower. Shower, shower!

It's so cold!

Don't come in turning your back!

Come in, Bira, come in.

It's the champagne!

My Zizo has been always like this. Never upset me.

But, always...

He's very intelligent.

He always loved writing. He used to write on everything.

His dream was to be a poet. And isn't he a poet today?

His father used to contend the idea.

Actually, he met Spade in his father's funeral.

Amessy funeral! Papers, money...

Only the dead profit with death.

Marieta, Spade is so confident that I'm afraid he won't come back to me.

Why?

I don't know. We've talked, but he's so stubborn.

My dear, don't be sad. Because if he won't, he'll be the loser.

Tell me, where he is going to find a baby like you?

No! But if he prefers geegaboos!

- Darling... - Continue, go on...

So, after crossing there, the Caxang� Ave. At 6 PM,

a dude showed up, and pow!

He dropped dead on the asphalt! And his soul was about to reach heaven.

Going up, up, by a tunnel of clouds, and so. Going up...

Then he looked around, and saw a bacchanal.

Man with man, woman with woman. Everybody messing around.

Then, he said: Dude, this so-called heaven will be cool!

But when he arrived in heaven it was quite boring, nothing happened.

He saw St. Peterthere and said:

Wizard, come on. Come closer, man.

And he said to St. Peter: ...know something?

When I was coming up, I saw a hot bacchanal, and I want to know

who's the first to lick my cheese!

St. Peter said: Lick the cheese, no way! What you saw was hell!

That's not heaven!

He said: So, staying in the boring heaven, I prefer hell anyway.

St. Peter said: So go!

And then, the tunnel of clouds, and he fell, and no bacchanal.

So, in a while, ready, he saw.

A leaking cock here, a pussy there...

Man with man, woman with woman, white with black, everyone mixed.

Then he came closer, already shy, and said: Wizard, excuse me, is it hell?

No, crazy thing! It's Recife! Hell is over there!

It's ahead, after the Olindas, over there!

This is Recife! Nothing to add or subtract.

Take it and get it, get it and take it. Recife, hell!

- What? - How's it, girl?

You're not my girlfriend! We live together.

Attention please. Come here, attention, come, Spade.

Attention, you all, the Godless ones, present here.

From the sharing words, to the tongues' and languages' joy.

It's Poetry time. May be, or not?

No, no... We want cacha�a... booze, and dancing!

And who said poetry does not combine?

And who said poetry does not intoxicate?

And you lady, Stella Maris, keep your jokes for the other side of the wall,

foryour husband!

Now! OK my friend, let's go now!

Wait! Relax! Relax, friend Bear! Relax.

I want to know about the film. If Pot is going to be projected or not!

Pot! Pot!

Let my boy recite his poetry.

Applauses for Mom! Marieta, the queen of this backyard palace.

So, this year I wrote two poems.

One fortoday, for our upside-down Easter,

and the other in my homage for the best couple I know:

Wanessa & Spade.

This poem is called "Jacks by Retail". This is:

Thus, being so, I can talk about the spades, which are we.

We, who spout, who are so intense that neitherthe spade,

the fine and keen blade. Can untie the rope tied to us.

Neitherthe spade, whatever it is and the chestiest possible,

has the powerto injury or infer. Mere spades.

Because on the plain surface of mirrors, there go our knots,

lonely, unique, together.

Because the daring fulfill each other...

Kiss! Kiss!

Spade & Wanessa!

- What's your name? - Aeneid...

A poem name: Virgil before Christ.

He wanted overcome the Odyssey and wrote a poem called Aeneid.

In the first part he narrates ajourney,

in the second, a war. You have a war name.

- Do you like the film? - The worse is the lack of story...

This is the story of my life!

- Who creates the story is who sees. - Interesting!

And the poems? What about?

- Those things you'vejust said? - Yes.

As a poet you're an excellent advertising man!

Wow! Advertising man!

Look! I'm excited!

- Want to make love with me? - Man, I have a boyfriend.

I'm not asking you be your boyfriend, just to make sex with you. Do or not?

I thought you only liked old ladies. I'd expect everything but that, Poet.

I'm never satisfied. I like everything. Just a look and I do it!

Bloody crazy man!

- Hi there! - So what, baby!

- Come here! - Hi!

Isn't there any luxury for you, man?

For me? There is luxury, and a lot! Look, can't you see?

But it's the world's luxury.

I like the luxury of love. The luxury of friendship.

I like the luxury the sex exhales. Am I being a good advertising man? Or...

Look, you've called me advertising man and just that.

Why? Why advertising man? Say to me.

I like you more than these shits you write.

- Damn! - This is pure shit!

Hey, my friend, take me another, please.

So, you're going to break me down. Thank you.

Do you want to make sex with me?

- I didn't say no. - So, you do?

I must go, Poet.

So, see? You come and make my doubts even more doubtful.

You come with a smile and break my certainty...

Eneida!

- Eneida called you spoiled? - Only child and pampered.

Yes, Eneida is bloody crazy. She's ignoring you and you like it.

Look, it's on yourface.

When one gets a "no", his cock says yes, yes, yes...

This is it!

Look, brother! What is this? Betraying? Who feeds you here?

Let's learn how to say no, let's go! Mindless head!

That's it Mouth, the first time she came closer I felt nothing.

But now, I'm too hard.

Now, everything becomes hard when I think of her.

The eye observes the object that comes closer,

with no calculation, tongue or borders,

keen observation of the stated things, over the fined things.

Pent step, of betraying and fear, and I there, just peeping,

I see vanity showing up from the sides of the dreams of the shadowlike things.

I observe the object that comes closer, with the weapon in a hand,

and in the other, quite trembling, the contempt of her attacks,

naked at the doors of the days, semi-dead in the center of the world,

aggressive in the tiny things and abstract in the issues of the days.

Are you dead, man?

Have you learned to contempt?

What novelty is that? Are you fed up of me?

Mom is fifteen year older than my father. You know?

So, your father is from the geriatric wing of the possible loves?

When I was born, mom was 40, dad 25.

Kind of "unfashionable hippie"!

And you mother, was she an "up-to-date hippie"?

Helena. That's her name.

Yourfather is a classical! Aeneid, Helena...

there is no Brazilian name in yourfamily, is there?

My mother's mother was Iracema.

When I was a kid I used to swim in this river... till there...

Let's take a bath? Go on, take out your clothes... go on.

Man, are you crazy? Swim in this river?

Why not?

Become covered with scabies, mycosis and then die from a disease?

- And, can't you acquire an antibody? - No.

Instead of a disease?

Nothing, Zizo? Nothing at all? I don't understand.

There's nothing to understand, Spade. That's it.

I think I'm in love with Eneida's affective contempt.

With herjoyful shroud of passion.

She is great. And I am like this, smaller.

What kind of talking! But when I met Wanessa

it was hard till some hours.

I have no time to date, engage, or marry...

With me or it's hugging right now, or good-bye!

You're very pragmatic, Spade.

Not me, I'm a romantic freak, anachronic; Cripple-hearted.

I tell you, the score may be even unfair, but the match is really good!

- Understand? - No.

Dad is crazy!

He would bejealous of mom, and now he's jealous of me.

See? Indeed, I think he's jealous of you.

Are you cold, Zizo? Your mouth is blue.

I become shy when you say nothing.

When you do, I also become, but nothing is worse.

Deferring the disparaging world.

In the flesh, life sprouts.

On the mount... in life... glued...

Look, do you think he's going to like it?

- Agift? - Yes.

- My! Think of the mess! - Are you ready?

Yes, along with my shorts.

- Great! I'll visit Marieta. - Already?

I go and return soon, dear, to congratulate.

- Listen. - Say...

You excite Poet... and nothing...

Hey, come on, do it right now!

If it were me! I would do it beautifully!

What matters, what matters Eneida, is today, now, the present.

That's the present that matters! This one! Crazy girl, get off!

Let's go...

The women!

Happy birthday for you...

Spade... Spade!

Wait, wait... I must give my present now.

It's already unpacked.

And I ask you all to open your hearts to receive it.

It's a poem I wrote, called: Peace.

Afraid of the time that passes, passes by me the time of fear.

Hard presence and sharp souvenir, wakes up what is best in your essence.

Even inside your desire, I weave and unweave the time that passes.

I may take you to the middle of the world, which is quite near and so far.

I would like to see you from afar, Eneida. I always do that.

I use to go to your school's door, to watch you leaving with your mates

walking around... so easy, so free.

So wrong... you are very wrong, Eneida.

And you are completely crazy, Zizo.

I hate this idea of being spied!

What shit is that?!

I look, look with the eyes.

And I see quite well, I do no harm.

Nor much, neither little.

Let's walk around the middle of the world?

Let's go?

Take it!

- Let's go? - Let's go.

With the sea swing, you resemble the balance

between the erudite and the whore.

- Being called a whore doesn't offend me. - I don't mean to offend you.

I'm just trying to understand. Why you insist in not staying with me.

I don't insist; It doesn't interest me.

What I like in you; Doesn't fit me, you know?

Because of the lack or excess?

Because if it's the lack, I can mend me and if it's excess, I mutilate myself.

- Why? - Damn! You're plenty of "why"!

- So, answer me. - I don't know why!

You're a woman of many, aren't you? Awoman of excesses?

Well, I am not little! My soul is exaggerated, see?

I know. You're the one who doesn't, Poet. You're the one who doesn't.

Why did you take me here to the middle of the river? In the middle of the world?

To do anything I want to you, without witnesses.

To kiss your mouth and bite yourtongue.

Touch your breast and tear away your nipple.

To penetrate your womb till I feel the ecstasy smelling your blood,

your screams of pleasure and pain.

Do you think I'm afraid of you?

Do you know anybody who's afraid of you?

I know myself.

Shit! I want to piss! Let me go, Poet.

Can I watch you pissing? Let me?

I do nothing to you, you know...

- Let me go. - OK.

Come here, man. Cool!

The more muddy, more crabs there are, isn't it?

They abound more.

But, when I look from here, all I see is rubbish, trash.

It's the hunger, isn't it?

Josu� was right. Josu� de Castro.

Man produces shit, which dirties the mangrove.

Where the crab is born. That is eaten by man,

who produces shit. That's it? Understood?

Chico! Lend your science for me to understand!

Your science to enlighten! Send it! For us, to see!

You there, in the building! Do you knowthe smell of this city?

It means the smell of this city is the smell of the mangrove!

You there, from that building, do you knowthe noise of this city?

The noise of this city is made by the clogs of the washerwomen of Casa Amarela!

You there, in that building, do you knowthe savor of this city?

If you do not...

- Mouth, look at this! - What?

Eneida never stops complaining about herfather.

But... Herfather is a kick in the balls!

And the girl is so difficult... She's a living torment.

- Respect, Potty-Mouth! - Respect.

Eneida, how long haven't you seen Poet?

Since June's festivals.

So much time, dear!

- Why don't you accept Poet? - Have you?

- What? - Look at herface!

- Have you been with him? - He prefers old ladies.

- And..., am I old? - Yes, your attitude.

- So, think of the elderly attitude! - I do...

Beautiful!

- What are you dying for? Missing? - I don't know, Spade. I don't know.

How can one miss something unreleased?

I was about to give up the things I like.

My dialectical.

What? What's this?

Dialectical!

Hey, Jo�o, bring me another!

- I'm visiting Galega. - Where?

- Galega's... - Here it is.

Go.

I'm coming back to my little beach.

- To my "seara". - What's this?

It means, field, place. I'm coming back to my haven.

Have you brought it, Jo�o?

Hey man! I'm visiting Galega's.

Look for some cuddle...

I am the cuddle!

Let me cuddle...

Made the tour around the world... Wake up smiling, look.

Showing unfaithful end, screwing the silence of the night.

Distant hurricane, girl, your prose is easy and free

malign your attitude, facing your grandeur,

I receive in the face your dried piss, by the mirror, that neithertime can fix

the reflex of the complex hair of the pussy of the girl.

Tiresome friend... hurl over the idle body, the okra's mucilage,

ducat through imagination...

There is no greater evil when the will, imposed by force,

nothing sadder than a loveless love.

Only, and just the love of the things I do not love..., is all... or nothing.

Even the things quiver with no consent, penetrating in the world of the ideas

and there outside the world may cry for incomprehension...

Now I'm fucked!

Did you see my wallet?

I swear I left it there, on the coffee table.

Look on the bar.

It's not there.

I swear I left it on the coffee table!

Darling, you'll never know where that wallet is.

You arrived completely drunk yesterday...

I was with the guys, arranging things...

Darling, can I ask you a favor? May I?

Stop talking about this stuff! I'm becoming mad!

Damn wallet! I spent the whole night waiting for you as an idiot,

and the gorgeous thing was having fun with friends and trollops!

Trollops... What is that now, Wanessa?

What an idea! Dear, I was with Zizo...

Look! Do you think I'm a clown?

I only know that if it were me, it was warfare!

I was the whore, the harlot, the slut...

But you! Who was having fun in the streets!

I know very well the size of the friends who where with you!

Look, don't you know that when we make sex, we carry its stench?

Orthe toilet soap's orthe semen's!

My love, let's stop arguing, baby...

I'm not arguing.

No? Sweet, it was just a beer...

Stop... being...

Just some booze...

Stop... being...

Because, when I start my show, you'll know how nice betraying is!

You'll need help to carry the horns I'll put on your head!

Stop cheating me, Spade!

Little Spade, Big Spade...

What is it here? What's this? What's this?

A brunette geegaboo brought it today in the morning for you,

saying you had forgotten it in Galega's Bar.

Do you deny?!

Are you staying stock-still?

Hurry! Zizo is about to arrive. I hate being late.

Hurry, sluggish!

We're going to the city to propose, to set before, to affix,

the reorganization of the addictions,

which only are good for the develop the human spirit.

Today, the Newspaper Rat Fever is going there,

in the Day of the Independence of Brazil,

to propose a new establishment. Which is nothing more than a:

Possible disagreement, facing an improbable proposal

for us to arrive at a minimal predictable situation!

Beautiful words!

Let's, let's invade the conservative temple, as I tenderly call it.

To propose and invite the "dolce vitas" who want tojoin us...

Because this is the answer we are giving the world, exactly this!

It's exactly this, look, it's the friendship.

It's the spirit of complicity.

It's the collectivity who's going to shake the laws.

Who is going to kick the order's right testis.

Let's go, Poet!

Now, if this is going to make any difference, I don't know, but look:

I really don't care!

If they care for great events, so, let's go great!

Let's go!

So, let's do it now, 'cause last year they sent us tojail, but not this one...

No, this year nobody is going tojail.

This year everyone is going to the asylum!

Friends from Pilar,

we're taking the world to ask for, besides home and food,

anarchy and sex!

Take me a vessel forfilling with freedom!

Take me a vessel forfilling with complicity!

Take me a vessel forfilling with strength!

The Newspaper Rat Fever is promoting today the cry of the destined!

The cry of the predestined!

And the cry of the insane!

And what we demand the right of mistaking!

I propose a noisy no, a noisy yes!

Hearthe yes!

Say no to the cages whichjail you!

Say no to the rails which limit you!

Let's break the ties! Let's break thejails!

And the locks! Free!

Today in the Independence Day I propose freedom!

I propose freedom and the right of peace!

Anarchy and sex! Anarchy and sex!

Yes, we are anarchists!

We're here because even the anarchy needs tradition!

We demand the right of mistaking!

Everyone needs love! Love!

We need love!

There is no greater love when the will is imposed by force.

Get Poetry!

Grand world, we need love and not weapons!

There is no greater love than life!

There is no greater love than life in this abyss, abyss world.

There is no greater love than the life one!

It is moment to ask more and offer less.

In this abyss world, world abyss.

How great, in the day of today, that does not look to the trash mound

and rememberthe poor? Know why? Know why?

Because in their heads trash is basically recycling by the poor.

Let's call the populace for recycling, that's what they say.

Now... Who remembers the poor when they discover a diamond mine?

"They call, to say: Come populace, lapidate!"

No way! Not in a thousand years!

Down the recycling and viva the lapidary!

Down the recycling and viva the lapidary!

Down the recycling and viva the lapidary!

One moment! One moment!

I do not trust, and never did,

but, it seems that God has just proved His existence.

And created here the muse of the Independence.

Shit, Zizo!

Come here, come!

My war, my warfare.

No!

Stay with me, my warfare, come up here.

Go, go, go...

That's it Poet!

I thought of her during the last days and made a poem. Not one, many.

- Want to hear it? - No, not here.

Yes or no?

She does, she does!

Do you all want to hear? So let's go.

But before, I want to invite everyone here to open your hearts.

Uncover any barrier which may block the word to your hearts.

OK! OK!

Courage! Courage! Courage! Courage!

Go on, Poet!

This one... This one here is going to the unreleased things for excess.

And for the things which are not, for mere nonsense.

I wrote my name on the tabernacle, which is beside the fridge,

and next to the small remedy flacons, and beside this, there is a shelf,

and on this structure, a mirrorthat reflects the face of a man with whom

you share the day and do the rare things,

as he declaims the alphabet backwards,

and elects certain rare colors as favorites.

The common man, the same of the mirror, did not trusted well the thoughts,

and began to list:

I spent the day cutting steps, disposing things, unmaking knots,

gnawing nails, talking to my self, watching TV,

discovering streets, touring maps,

smoking cigarettes, cheating criminals,

addicting organisms, analyzing blood,

conducting conflicts, cajoling desires,

reinventing dreams, avoiding panics.

Distract his feelings as asking blessings for God and the devil

to divert his faults and came in his home.

He left the arrogance outside, resting for kissing the youth

that was sleeping in the couch.

He kissed. And his hand penetrated so much inside

that reached the heart of the dream, and there he was sure that

he wanted to be part of the entire dream, but she awaked and said the organization

was a privileged way of being mediocre.

The common man agreed while he would take off his arm,

still smelling the dream.

Wonderful! The right of mistaking! The right to mistaking!

The right of mistaking... Pureza! Purity... Purity...

Down the repression!!! Down the repression!!!

Go! Take him out! Out! Bastard!

In Independence Day? You'll see! You! Queer!

He's just a poet! Let him go!

Go on, shit!

No!!!

- Not yet? Say something. - Say what, Eneida?

I never heard about someone who vanished like this, forever, in the river.

One day appears, but in this city, nothing is seen in this river...

- And Wanessa? - She's there, with Mom Marieta...

We've argued again, but I think she's fine. Time...

Spade, do you think he'll show up?

Dear, only in soul.

But, since I don't believe in souls, I think it's difficult.

I'll talk to Mom Marieta.

Look, give Wanessa a message:

Tell I'm waiting for her, whenever she wants me back.

And even she'll never want, I'll be waiting.

And, that, she is the "man" of my life.

Well, let me work, there's so many people dying...

Did you hear about the leptospirosis?

Yeah.

Bro, they said on TV, that, if there'll be a flooding it'll spread quickly.

- Leptospirosis, in the veins! - Really!

- See? Eneida, the girl. - It's Zizo's job.

Zizo's muse!

She's smiling... cute...

And Zizo's films...

Maybe it's a porn one!

- All sex! - He really liked...

Look what I found here! Look wizard!

It's Pot!

Pot!

Cool!

Mom Marieta! We found a little film here.

Can we stay with it? Pot!

Yes, son, you can.

- They found Pot? - I found Pot.

In some minutes Spade will come to take the typewriterfor him.

I was forgetting... He said you are the "man" of his life.

And he'll wait for you the rest of his life.

Look! Wanessa & Spade!

- And is he coming? - He said so.

- Again? - Bastard...

- Watch out, the zone, the mess! - Stop, stop!

Spade said that he'll write poems and publish as Zizo did.

Look at this! A poet, now?

Just trollops' and booze's poems!

Look, booze and trollops are also poetry!

But if the flooding is to happen...

Xola will be bloody annihilated!

What, who?

Xola!

Sorry, I don't know her!!!

- She's quite shaggy! - Who's shaggy!?!