Carnaval de Brasil

The muse is a single muse
Or is a serpent with many heads,
The seekers of promises,
Tempt her with beer,
If she leaves, she can come back, when least expected,
To give her comfort, to the foul-mouthed poet.

They are not absent women, they are not knives in the teeth,
They are not Brazilian carnival Tuesdays,
They are not urgent songs,
They are not pending matters,
They are not Brazilian carnival Tuesdays,
(sadness has no end)

We must unsheathe the swords of the text,
And write a song even if there is no pretext,
And dedicate it to the first person passing by,
To the one who stayed thinking, to the one who doesn't want to think,
To selective forgetfulness, to lost memory,
To those with pieces of life that we will never lose…

They are not absent women, they are not knives in the teeth,
They are not Brazilian carnival Tuesdays,
They are not urgent songs,
They are not pending matters,
They are not Brazilian carnival Tuesdays