{"id":636,"date":"2015-12-11T10:57:14","date_gmt":"2015-12-11T13:57:14","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/?p=636"},"modified":"2015-12-11T19:36:33","modified_gmt":"2015-12-11T22:36:33","slug":"there-are-waving-hands","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/index.php\/2015\/12\/11\/there-are-waving-hands\/","title":{"rendered":"There are waving hands"},"content":{"rendered":"<div style=\"padding-bottom:20px; padding-top:10px;\" class=\"hupso-share-buttons\"><!-- Hupso Share Buttons - https:\/\/www.hupso.com\/share\/ --><a class=\"hupso_counters\" href=\"https:\/\/www.hupso.com\/share\/\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/static.hupso.com\/share\/buttons\/lang\/pt\/share-small.png\" style=\"border:0px; padding-top:2px; float:left;\" alt=\"Share Button\"\/><\/a><script type=\"text\/javascript\">var hupso_services_c=new Array(\"twitter\",\"facebook_like\",\"facebook_send\",\"pinterest\",\"email\",\"print\",\"linkedin\");var hupso_counters_lang = \"pt_BR\";var hupso_image_folder_url = \"\";var hupso_twitter_via=\"blogdootavio\";var hupso_url_c=\"\";var hupso_title_c=\"There%20are%20waving%20hands\";<\/script><script type=\"text\/javascript\" src=\"https:\/\/static.hupso.com\/share\/js\/counters.js\"><\/script><!-- Hupso Share Buttons --><\/div><p>Poem written by my grandfather, Dagmar Pinto, in honor of his son, \u00a0Ot\u00e1vio, who died in the early age of 33, leaving wife and 3 young daughters.<br \/>\nOriginally published in Portuguese in 1965 by famous local newspaper\u00a0\u201cA TARDE\u201d. I&#8217;ve translated to English and I hope it maintains its beauty.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>\u2018\u2019 THERE ARE WAVING HANDS&#8230;\u201d<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>There are waving hands<\/p>\n<p>\u2014 Surprised distressed\u00a0wings \u2014<\/p>\n<p>To the impossible tomorrow,<\/p>\n<p>One that never came.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>There are waving hands<\/p>\n<p>From misterious regions,<\/p>\n<p>In a useless plea to life:<\/p>\n<p>Hands that sowed love<\/p>\n<p>Through the paths \u2014\u00a0this glorious light<\/p>\n<p>That changes the world<\/p>\n<p>And puts a rose in each wound.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>From the top of immensity<\/p>\n<p>There are waving hands,<\/p>\n<p>In a silent anguish,<\/p>\n<p>To the three lilies of your blood,<\/p>\n<p>Your own living flesh<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>There are waving hands<\/p>\n<p>To the stars far away,<\/p>\n<p>That shines like your dreams,<\/p>\n<p>Now reflected in my soul,<\/p>\n<p>In search of infinity.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>My son, listen:<\/p>\n<p>It feels like the city is dying<\/p>\n<p>That things and beings decay<\/p>\n<p>Before the hopeless long absence.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>In a past wrapped in mists,<\/p>\n<p>That sadly frays,<\/p>\n<p>I see your outstretched hands<\/p>\n<p>From the waking child,<\/p>\n<p>Within the intense night,<\/p>\n<p>To the faint broken dream.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I shall always have you in my eyes<\/p>\n<p>Your lightless eyes,<\/p>\n<p>Your lifeless cold body<\/p>\n<p>But from the other side of life<\/p>\n<p>There are waving hands.<\/p>\n<div style=\"padding-bottom:20px; padding-top:10px;\" class=\"hupso-share-buttons\"><!-- Hupso Share Buttons - https:\/\/www.hupso.com\/share\/ --><a class=\"hupso_counters\" href=\"https:\/\/www.hupso.com\/share\/\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/static.hupso.com\/share\/buttons\/lang\/pt\/share-small.png\" style=\"border:0px; padding-top:2px; float:left;\" alt=\"Share Button\"\/><\/a><script type=\"text\/javascript\">var hupso_services_c=new Array(\"twitter\",\"facebook_like\",\"facebook_send\",\"pinterest\",\"email\",\"print\",\"linkedin\");var hupso_counters_lang = \"pt_BR\";var hupso_image_folder_url = \"\";var hupso_twitter_via=\"blogdootavio\";var hupso_url_c=\"\";var hupso_title_c=\"There%20are%20waving%20hands\";<\/script><script type=\"text\/javascript\" src=\"https:\/\/static.hupso.com\/share\/js\/counters.js\"><\/script><!-- Hupso Share Buttons --><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<div style=\"padding-bottom:20px; padding-top:10px;\" class=\"hupso-share-buttons\"><!-- Hupso Share Buttons - https:\/\/www.hupso.com\/share\/ --><a class=\"hupso_counters\" href=\"https:\/\/www.hupso.com\/share\/\"><img src=\"https:\/\/static.hupso.com\/share\/buttons\/lang\/pt\/share-small.png\" style=\"border:0px; padding-top:2px; float:left;\" alt=\"Share Button\"\/><\/a><script type=\"text\/javascript\">var hupso_services_c=new Array(\"twitter\",\"facebook_like\",\"facebook_send\",\"pinterest\",\"email\",\"print\",\"linkedin\");var hupso_counters_lang = \"pt_BR\";var hupso_image_folder_url = \"\";var hupso_twitter_via=\"blogdootavio\";var hupso_url_c=\"\";var hupso_title_c=\"There%20are%20waving%20hands\";<\/script><script type=\"text\/javascript\" src=\"https:\/\/static.hupso.com\/share\/js\/counters.js\"><\/script><!-- Hupso Share Buttons --><\/div><p>Poem written by my grandfather, Dagmar Pinto, in honor of his son, \u00a0Ot\u00e1vio, who died in the early age of 33, leaving wife and 3 young daughters. Originally published in Portuguese in 1965 by famous local newspaper\u00a0\u201cA TARDE\u201d. I&#8217;ve translated to English and I hope it maintains its beauty. &nbsp; \u2018\u2019 THERE ARE WAVING HANDS&#8230;\u201d [&hellip;]<\/p>\n<div style=\"padding-bottom:20px; padding-top:10px;\" class=\"hupso-share-buttons\"><!-- Hupso Share Buttons - https:\/\/www.hupso.com\/share\/ --><a class=\"hupso_counters\" href=\"https:\/\/www.hupso.com\/share\/\"><img src=\"https:\/\/static.hupso.com\/share\/buttons\/lang\/pt\/share-small.png\" style=\"border:0px; padding-top:2px; float:left;\" alt=\"Share Button\"\/><\/a><script type=\"text\/javascript\">var hupso_services_c=new Array(\"twitter\",\"facebook_like\",\"facebook_send\",\"pinterest\",\"email\",\"print\",\"linkedin\");var hupso_counters_lang = \"pt_BR\";var hupso_image_folder_url = \"\";var hupso_twitter_via=\"blogdootavio\";var hupso_url_c=\"\";var hupso_title_c=\"There%20are%20waving%20hands\";<\/script><script type=\"text\/javascript\" src=\"https:\/\/static.hupso.com\/share\/js\/counters.js\"><\/script><!-- Hupso Share Buttons --><\/div>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":633,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[34],"tags":[115,116,114],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/636"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=636"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/636\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":648,"href":"https:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/636\/revisions\/648"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/633"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=636"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=636"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/otaviopinto.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=636"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}