Sweet cut words
Who pierce the veils of my soul
Get out of my being
Through my crystalline sources
And bathe my hills
Restless they leave, they run
Like a river of intense lava
Destroying my dreams
Planted by the river
So fragile are the statements
What I heard
So certain are the attitudes
I just saw
How weak are the spoken words
How strong are the gestures made
My mouth is cut For words
I should not say
And sad with my deeds.
Poesia Vermelha 