Meia-noite

If the night has no bottom
The sea loses its value
Opaque is the end of the world
For any navigator
Who loses the east
And enters spirals
And comes across
A contingent
That he has already left behind

The sobs fold so alike
His rivals, his brothers
His ship loaded with ideals
That were slipping away like grains
The stars that never return
And an ocean to wash hands