So I wish my last poem.
To be tender saying the most simple things and less intentional
To be ardent as a sigh without tears
To have the beauty of the flowers almost without fragrance
The purity of the flame where limpid diamonds are consumed
The passion of the suicides who end their lives without reason
Notes
A version in the original Portugese may be found here
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/show/117360
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After a lifetime of whatever it is we all go through...with all the conventions and complications, it would be good, when it's all said and done...to express the essence of who we are, and what it all meant. No artifice, no lies, no misunderstanding..."this is me, this is who I was...the purity and passion of my thoughts, my soul."
And I want to thank OP Researcher MariGoes, for translating the poem.
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