Paisagens Perdidas

The afternoon gathers the cloak,
carqueja and caraguatá;
in the cork tree a sabiá
flourishes the last song!
Expanding the gargle,
of the stream that dissolves,
there is an echo asking for space
in the primitive falquejo!
The moon rises in a kiss,
silvering the back of the hill
and a cricket wakes up a cincerro,
from my wandering retreat!
Landscapes of field and soul
lost in the coming and going,
sobs of the Uruguay
that drinks moon and calms down:
the night passes in a saved hand,
with it comes the longing,
sniffing the brightness
of the embers of the Morning Star!
Wrinkles are born on the face,
landscapes of nature
that the force of the current
cannot carry forward;
then it demands that I sing
when I find myself awake,
but whenever I get close
my dream is further away!
Landscapes of shadow and light,
how could I lose them?
The 5 stars remained
making the "sign of the cross"!