Mário de Andrade Poems

" I counted my years and discovered that I have
less time to live going forward than I have lived until now.
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Mothers have existed,
And this is quite a problem.
For, so they say, one´s mother
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At least, we are no longer friends.

You walk easily, lightly,
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That man who walks all alone
Along those squares, those streets,
Ha in himself an enormous secret.
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My life is one to-day, ´tis clear to see,
Of happiness unrelieved: I cannot say
If I enjoy it, since enjoyment may
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Dead, the rests sweetly among the flowers in his coffin.

There are such moments when we living
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The Mountains of Rolling-Girl
Had not that name before…
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Nights heavy with suffocating smells, heat . . .
The Sun made its way across the enormous stretch of our country
And gave each Brazilian a dark complexion.
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A little before noon
I felt she was coming. I waited.
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Somewhere near, a rose-tree must be blooming,
I don´t know… I feel in myself a harmony,
Some of the disinterest that fatigue brings.
...