Translated by Hugo dos Santos
one day, when tenderness is the only rule of the morning,
i will wake up in your arms. your skin will be perhaps too pretty.
and the light will understand the impossible understanding of love.
one day, when the rain dries in the memory, when winter is
distant, when the cold answers slowly with the dragging voice
of an old man, i will be with you and birds will sing on our
windowsill. yes, birds will sing, there will be flowers, but none of that
will be my fault, because i will wake up in your arms and i will not say
even one word, not even the beginning of a word, in order to avoid spoiling
the perfection of happiness.
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