Os Portugueses Deixam a Língua Nos Trópicos

A piece of free homeland with my Atlantic veins
In the mixed map of my black or Brazilian body
The same face buried in the Portuguese ground of Iberia
And the same oceanic soul on the way to the winds
The same language inside the spoken language in the
Recesses of the brown soul of reciprocal ancestors
All common to the virgins deflowered by colorless men
Who put sequins in the sky of each tropical womb
South of the languid beaches shores of mysterious Atlantis
Keels tearing through the gales of each aimless adventure
There were born the astral mouths for the signs of the gods
Creating the mythology of the drowned at the helm of time
Remains that Lusitanian flame now liberated in continental shores
Where the sun ferments in the salt of obtuse clarities of shadows
Generating the word in mixed hearts in the abysses of races
Where the pyramids mark the sarcophagi of my people
People crushed by the spheres and unforgivable windmills
Of the witches who wove the evil spell of the empire
And now dead, expel in the tides the fetid feces of history
A history that needs to start again from scratch
A piece of free homeland with that Lusitanian flame
Liquid flame on the lips of a future without abortions
Expression of the bellies of southern gestation
Or of the tiny islands of the creole gulfs
A kiss on the mouth of the universe an African kiss
Mainly African and Brazilian
From zero to ecstasy a steep kiss on the mouth
Of the liquid words of the same cosmic language
It will be a fusion of wings salted by clear tides
Of the beaches marked by ancestral anchors
And the same androgynous journey of the bisexuals of the same skin
Unfurling the flags mixed by sequins
A piece of homeland of procreated homelands
In the same burning verb of lyrical melody
Singing tomorrow the words added
By the people that this language itself procreates
My blood diluted in the pores of your being
This being in the world in your colorless skin
Collecting the Brazils in the African jungles
And sowing the Africas in the kingdom of the Algarves
Who will be this son of the pregnant future
That your mouth offers to the redeemed kiss
Fertilized by centuries on the same homelandless ground
Of the homelands of my verb of your born verb
A piece a drop a single drop
Of your mixed profile projected in the stars
Sailing sidereal seas in search of a route
The seas the same seas never before navigated
May the spoils of history return to Restelo
But may that free flame forever alive
In a piece of multiple homeland beloved homeland
Made of a thousand pieces of the soul of my people
Portuguese in Macau or Brazilian in Luanda
African from Bahia or European Creole
When you speak I know you were born from me
When you were born in me from my father from your father
Unhappy Portuguese in the walked wanderings
Trod scars on the face of time
And doesn't know what to do with the crossroads
Nor the crosses placed on the oblique slopes
Portuguese without the gesture of his own right hand
Severed in the alleys of the marine entrails
(sunset of razors in dead horizons)
With life drained in submerged currents
Portuguese carrying the heavy twilights
Of a rotten old age to fertilize Europe
Hang yourself in the sea and in your own hair
But do not die lying in the Iberian bed
Portuguese who pierced the burning eyes
To see the ends of the ends of adventure
Do not give up now on the urgent dawns
And return home to be born again