Podes dar-me a mão,
abraçar-me em silêncio.
Mas, sem revelar as minhas fraquezas,
morrerei em desgraça.
You may give me your hand,
let me cry,
embrace me in silence.
But, without revealing my weaknesses,
I’ll die in disgrace.
Within the Forest of Mysteries,
crossing the corridors of light,
we contemplate the ice caves of the sun.
Such a place favours dreams
where, surrounded by a row of red fire veils,
surfaces the crystal castle.
Yet, I lost myself in time
wandering through sacred passages
searching the green void,
losing the tears of trees.
At the ample and silent edge, I ponder:
How profound is the deep?
And questions are creatures,
simple and quiet,
making the shallow core of the rain
inside yesterday’s breeze.
Perhaps the senses are returning to the cradle?
The obscurity is lit by blue torches.
But inside the white pearl collar
there’s no lifeblood or insignia.
Just a soul of unconscious being.
And I still am
my own orphan!