The world overflowing bright with purple shapes
in the deep chaos in which sadness
gently touches the wind in tatters.

We escape the force of will.
One senses future pleasures,
arriving home,
recognizing oneself in still life…

Over the hills the dinosaurs are limping!

Soon the night will open the bodies,
the embaúbas are going to gather themselves together again…

We escape the force of will.
Creatures scarcely defile the light of the glances,
they fly above each other like mysterious music.

And life, like a dishonest viol,
violates the death of courage, and plucks its strings…
weakly.

Mário de Andrade