Poema Versos Íntimos de Augusto dos Anjos traduzido por mim para língua Inglesa.
Behold! Nobody saw the terrible
Funeral of your last chimera,
Only ingratitude- That panther-
Was your inseparable companion.
Get used to the mud that waits for you!
The man, who in this miserable land,
Lives among beasts, feels an inevitable
Need of being a beast, as well.
Take a match, light your cigarette!
The kisss, my friend, is the eve of spit.
The hand which caresses you, is the same
That casts stone.
If to somebody your wound still causes pity,
Cast stones at that vile hand which caresses you
And spit in that mouth which kisses you.