The Flamboyant - Translation

    It is necessary to tell stories. Not with the analytical haste of the morbid reports from the news, gushing out stories and facts for a reason that would bring envy to Hiereclatian River. No. Stories, it is needful to tell them without concerns and with the parsimony that the water bites the stone. In the same way, the storyteller flows, in a silk movement, until it pierces and take part of the hearer’s mind.
    The storyteller is a soul carver that loans the world his great eyes. He permits us to see the most perfect stained glass of the nature in the inner of the orange and the cosmos’ infinity in the sylvan flower. The storyteller is the kaleidoscope of the sad and gray people, mixed in the sidewalk and the dirtiness, attached to the Green House. He squirts light and colors in their dead eyes, for a minute or two.
    No one but the storyteller knows how to describe the flamboyant, behind his multifaceted eyes. The purple rain movement that the branches evict, in velvet sigh, in that cold morning. Who besides the storyteller, that storyteller, can explain the fact that all the clocks have stopped in that exactly instant?
    The storyteller speaks about these and other stories, and making from the paper a mirror, tame the world and himself. He spatters moonlight rays and rainbows through the dying streets, smelling to pain and reality. After that, like a mirage, he ends up with his rhymes and terrific tales as like guarding them back in the Pandora box, his rosaries and Rosálios. Sees off and gets lost in the smoke of the autos, a Mephistophelean smile and the soul ripped in two parts, abandoning that people of brown paper, begging for color.
    The people need his stories, his telescope eyes and his aura of opium and satin. Without this, we fade and die from illnesses that the science cannot explain, but the heart comprehends. As for me, I still have fixed with fire, under my eyelids, the image of the flamboyant, coloring that gray morning and marking my soul. The flamboyant is preterit, in the verb syntax, but is existent in the semantics of the name.