Der Himmel ünder...*

... sinto frio cá dentro. E dói.
Dói-me a incerteza do porvir e a vontade de ficar.
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When the child was a child
there was the time for questions like-
Why am I me
and why not you?
Why am I here
and why not there?
When did time begin
and when did space end?
Isn't life under the sun just a dream?
Isn't what I see, hear and smell
just a vision of a world before the world?
Does evil really exist?
Are there people who are really evil?
How can it be that I who is me wasn't there
before I was
and that one day I who is me
shall no longer be what I am now?
When the child was a child
he choked on spinach, rice pudding,
peas and boiled cauliflower,
an now he eats it all
and not just because he must.
When the child was a child
he once woke up in a strange bed;
now this happens again and again.
Many people seemed beautiful then,
now very few do at all.
He had a precise picture of paradise
and now he can only make a guess.
He couldn't imagine nothingness;
today he trembles at the idea.
When the child was a child
he lived on apples and bread,
it was enough then and still is.
When the child was a child
berries fell into his hands and they still do.
He felt shy in front of strangers
and still feels the same.
He waits for the first snow
and is still waiting.
When the child was a child
he threw himself with spirit into his games,
and now he masters such involvement only
where work is concerned.

* uma repetição necessária