Mensagem À Poesia

I can't
It's not possible
Tell her it's completely impossible
Now it can't be
It's impossible
I can't.
Tell her I'm very sad, but I can't meet her tonight.

Tell her there are millions of bodies to bury
Many cities to rebuild, much poverty in the world.
Tell her there's a child crying somewhere in the world
And women are going crazy, and there are legions of them lamenting
The absence of their men; tell her there's a void
In the eyes of the outcasts, and their thinness is extreme; tell her
That shame, dishonor, suicide haunt homes, and life must be reconquered
Make her see that I must be alert, facing all paths
Ready to help, to love, to lie, to die if necessary.
Consider carefully - don't hurt her... - that if I don't go
It's not because I don't want to: she knows; it's because there's a hero in prison
There's a farmer who was attacked, there's a pool of blood in a square.
Tell her, in secret, that I must be ready, that my
Shoulders must not bend, that my eyes must not
Be intimidated, that I carry on my back the misfortune of men
And it's not the time to stop now; tell her, however
That I suffer a lot, but I can't show my suffering
To the perplexed men; tell her that I was given
The terrible participation, and that possibly
I should deceive, pretend, speak with alien words
Because I know that there is, far away, the brightness of a dawn.
If she doesn't understand, oh try to convince her
Of this invincible duty that is mine; but tell her
That, deep down, everything I'm giving is hers, and that it
Hurts me to have to strip her like this, in this poem; that on the other hand
I must not use her in her mystery: the time is for clarification
Nor lean over me when beside me
There is hunger and lies; and a child's cry alone on a road
Next to a mother's corpse: tell her there is
A castaway in the middle of the ocean, a tyrant in power, a man
Repentant; tell her there's an empty house
With a clock ticking hours; tell her there's a great
Increase in chasms on earth, there are pleas, there are vociferations
There are ghosts that visit me at night
And I must receive, tell her of my certainty
In tomorrow
That I feel a smile on the invisible face of the night
I live in tension before the expectation of the miracle; therefore
Ask her to be patient, not to call me now
With her shadowy voice; not to make me feel cowardly
For having to leave her at this moment, in her immeasurable
Loneliness, ask her, oh ask her to be silent
For a moment, not to call me
Because I can't go
I can't go
I can't.

But I didn't betray her. In my heart
Lives her belonging image, and I will not say anything that could
Shame her. My absence.
It is also a spell
Of her love for me. I live with the desire to see her again
In a peaceful world. My man's passion
Remains with me; my loneliness remains with me; my
Madness remains with me. Perhaps I should
Die without seeing her again, without feeling
The taste of her tears, watching her run
Free and naked on the beaches and in the skies
And in the streets of my insomnia. Tell her that is
My torment; that sometimes
The lid of eternity weighs on my head and the mighty
Forces of tragedy feed on me, and drive me into darkness
But I must resist, it is necessary...
But I love her with all the purity of my past adolescence
With all the violence of the old hours of ecstatic contemplation
In a love full of renunciation. Oh, ask her
To forgive me, her sad and fickle friend
To whom it was given to lose himself in love for his fellow man
To whom it was given to lose himself in love for a small house
For a front garden, for a little girl in red
To whom it was given to lose himself in love for the right
Of all to have a small house, a front garden
And a little girl in red; and losing himself
Being sweet to lose himself...
So convince her, explain to her that it is terrible
Ask her on your knees not to forget me, to love me
To wait for me, because I am hers, only hers; but that now
It's stronger than me, I can't go
It's not possible
It's totally impossible
It can't be no
It's impossible
I can't.