The words

 

Wilted leaves, few or denuded,

Shaky branches, when the cold feeling

Wilderness escapes from the mouth like a bird: they dumply go,

They look at poisonous nest, feel loneliness!

 

About me, sneaky night brought your hidden voice.

Your tumbled sun under the shade that falls on you,

And the foresight of your hidden death buries you.

Oh, wicked voice that disappears.

 

You see, oh wicked woman,

The fire once spread for you in full ardor,

That, in ashes, in another time sustains you?

You consumed your bed, of an ultimate love.

 

You did not love, love firmer and stronger then

Why don’t you love you, oh, creature!

Take me to your secret garden, I want to understand you,

To extend you our affectionate hands!

 

São Paulo, December 2012.