As long as I feel the fresh breeze in my hairAnd see the sun shining strong on the leaves,I will not ask for much.What better thing could destiny grant me?Other than the sensual passing of life in momentsOf ignorance such as this one?
Quando eu morrer batam em latas,
Rompam aos saltos e aos pinotes,
Façam estalar no ar chicotes,
Chamem palhaços e acrobatas!
Que o meu caixão vá sobre um burro
Ajaezado à andaluza…
A um morto nada se recusa,
Eu quero por força ir de burro.
A quiet autumn morning shakes off the dust
of an angry September.
We are sunk deep into October,
shipwrecked, sullen and clothed
in some deep impenetrable mystery.
The moon is wild and unknown.
It follows us everywhere.
The clocks are broken.
We feel insignificant and vaporous.
We could just vanish.
At first we would tremble like leaves,
then there would be nothing left
but a small wind gathering the dust of ourselves.
There is no time anymore.
The day is done.
I lie back and watch the curtains
lift and fall like someone breathing.
Rainer Maria Rilke