Victor Requião

I misunderstood your signs,
And continued to misunderstand,
Even when you continued showing me them in your particular way.

So many, passing over me, just looking at.
But you, touching, pressing, smiling, not just facing, but more!
And so away became when I showed you my sign.

My sorrows are so near, and I need to go back again.
There, there, there. There are many, but there is no me!
No even if I try to let them accustomed to me, like I did.

I write like this,
Just because I know that if you read, you would not understand.
Like you did when my eyes where closed and I was not sleeping.

Não havia passos, nem homens.
Circundada pelas árvores,
Chuva caída, e pensamento.

O que há mais a aprender com o vento?
Tantos em suas grandes (in)certezas de conhecimento
Mal sabem que existe uma outra vida
Formada de cores e belezas.
E que não pode ser vista de trás do muro onde estão.