VIA ESPESSA (do Desejo)
From cicadas and stones, words want to be born,
But the poet lives
Alone in a corridor of moons, in a water-house.
From world maps, from shortcuts, voyages want to be born.
But the poet inhabits
The field of inns of insanity.
From the flesh of women, men want to be born
And the poet pre-exists, between the light and the nameless