A veces en un cafe he would put me
fol de mi soledad y wanted to think y no pensaba en la esquina
because ajeno del turmoil I summoned some silence
simple one is so unique that fails
be like others and less
not get up and
with memories linger and dawdle with
can look inside
grace and grief can become
us know so poorly that we breathe and the heart amazes us
provides the beats and feel with an alien rhythm
is true / I got into a coffee
and other
passed and passed but I was not allowed even a
look for him to hide in my den
Mario Benedetti
Photo: É accurate. Museu da Lingua Portuguesa. São Paulo.
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