© Nicholas e Sheila Pye | Romance, 2007

Don't stay there!
Come nearer to me,
Sit here!

Take that pout out of my mouth,
Scarlet line
In the fine
Colourlessness of your face!

Come nearer, nearer to me!

With the murmur of the waters
Of my singing
I shall make your eyelids droop.
Silence. It seemed like the sea...

Why tremble, love? That was nothing.
Only the wind up
The dead sand eith a vague sound.

António Botto, in Songs 
traduzido do português por Fernando Pessoa

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