Confidência do Itabirano

I lived in Itabira for some years.
Mainly, I was born in Itabira.
That's why I'm sad, proud: of iron.
Ninety percent of iron in the sidewalks.
Eighty percent of iron in the souls.
And this aloofness from what in life is porosity and communication.

The desire to love, which paralyzes my work,
comes from Itabira, from its white nights, without women and without horizons.

And the habit of suffering, which amuses me so much,
is a sweet Itabiran inheritance.

From Itabira, I brought various gifts that I now offer you:
this iron stone, future steel of Brazil,
this Saint Benedict from the old sculptor Alfredo Duval;
this tapir leather, spread on the living room sofa;
this pride, this bowed head...

I had gold, I had cattle, I had farms.
Today, I am a civil servant.
Itabira is just a photograph on the wall.
But how it hurts!