Me faziam feliz. A velhice insiste em obrigar o meu
Corpo caminhar de vagar, quando a vida tem pressa
Caminhar e morre.
The old age hugs my body, which under the weight
Dispensed by time.
Old, life suffers the misfortune of to live the
Torment of to rethink what the joy means and cry:
The life get me older, wrinkles me and when it
Dried petals of the flowers blown by the sunset´s
Old age, old, is the finish line of fate. The fate is the
The old age mocks of my dreams, dreams that I left
March 11, 2013