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I advance without knowing, groping,
forgetting that I think, that I breathe,
I omit the beginning and the reason for the dilemma.
Even when taking fate with temperance
obstacles arise, frequent friction,
with simple things, with such ease.
I fight to get voice,
for to plant jasmine flowers in the memory;
I do not mind the modesty,
I do not die by tumbling.
My desire knows no rest.
It is late when it warns that the feat
conspires, shakes up, fatigues,
tries to mute the light that shines
in the heat of a sincere food,
in the whisper of a child,
in front of the woman I love.
In the house, you dream with a chorus of joy,
with the brightness of the light that she lights,
with the children that rehearse juggling.
On the street, the ferocity never sings,
it revels in stalking, betrays,
and twirles the world.
There are no cardinal numbers in cosmos,
so return is not defeat.
I leave the shield, I take off the harness,
I drink thirst and I shake the thunder of the night.
in the afternoon,
and the silence,
the reddish background
of the Infinity,
in this little heart.