Beheaded fruits, maps,
birds trapped under my hat,
not known errant record players,
the city being born and dying,
the flower in your eye, trails that
have abandoned me, newspapers
arriving through the window
repeat the obscene gestures
I see the flowers make
whilst watching over me in darkened nights
whose clouds invariably
rain tears that I don't say.
Original poem: 'Composição', by João Cabral de Melo Neto
In: 'Pedra do Sono', 1942