Sudden movements

 

No time for funerals

the beautiful phrase passing away

I don't cross anymore

what is stupefying me

(nor Duque de Caxias)

On this avenue of days

time getting scarce

the incense kills me gladly

the verses on cold nights

stopped heating

now I sleep peacefully

without fear of forgetting rhymes

no rhythm for writing

I'm leaving it aside

any dirt that comes up

between my thoughts

maybe so i understand

anything that one day

by any chance I have written

so maybe I will stop

trying to understand

what torments my spirit