(translated from Portuguese)
31 December 2020 Unborn moon of winter: There is no more I to summon you. I've passed through the oceanic waters of the continent And see you now – it is summer. The beings who roam and vest Phrases and verbs and ecstasys Live, moon! Live! Like me. The lakes of childhood erupt unsayable, I watch its drift in the shadow of a tomorrow, And I am, unsuspecting of what is in me Son of the humans And days. Take me, take me away To the tomorrow who made me. But let me savour the moments, The love of my mother, the smallest gestures, The embraces of my sister Who understands, disunderstands, And has a whole life yet for understanding. The stars are white roses Solid impermanences of a garden: The sky is abloom this evening Clouds pass with the wind, The planets originate: time-roots And the galaxy is a fertile earth. In this chime recurring Time is-you, moon, And is too, but so very little In me. The other animals see, Understand me: know. The cats give refuge to the eyes as sphinxes, Dogs apprehend the evening with a howl. Our infants, newly-born Umbilical livings and bones, Watch us with eyes dampened; The indecent comprehension that is-us Before. I am afraid of the truth; I am afraid of the truth that is, And afraid of the truth that is in others. For I look around to understand the instant And between the second and the minute, The chair which sits me and the clothes I drag Only eternity is mother to some meaning; It is midnight. I will birth things beautiful! I will birth things foolish: I have to be, but I know not what And am afraid of what I am. I walk the streets and eat potatoes for dinner. And the future which is-us: in reverse? The big bang was no beginning, Ah, nothing ever began. The instant originates itself And death is yet another origin Bloomful, sprouting, trembling world: Give birth in me. As to the body: I am no fool, so I relish. Savour in the banquets of days Going to bed with strangers, To watch over death in life And the corporeal which still finds me young. I write Diffused, I bear but confusion And feel, eternity in the moment's dwell, Having but one I to serenade, Create the ethereal For calendaric days. Tomorrow the decade ends! Tomorrow the sun will rise the same Tomorrow is yesterday, my God, Tomorrow is yesterday. Like a starving animal I will eat dead calendars I will chew clocks bleeding I will make of my life a life, singular Break the covenant We had made, This embassy under the skies. I know all has passed, I know all is passing, And I even know that the future is uncertain, Yet neither for this reason has not been. Ah, leave me! I am mere man And even that is broken. Yet the air returns to re-member: Yes, maybe for the skies too The earth is a distant dream. I give you words, I give you because it is all I have I give you because it is all we have, What reveals and divides The I from the you. The word I is a mere appendix, The word I is a grammatical error. The word I is a truth Amongst the many, And the others which I can create Watching The fleeting touch of a keyboard or pen [yes! this century is technological and fills me with love and nausea]. Words are pixels, Words are points. Words are tender coverings over what wants to be said Silent to the sound of the instant's infinite And I have not yet learned to speak.