 |
| The Breeze |
| When the breeze uncombs my hair |
| And the water reflects my trembling soul |
| My steps will search for the narrow aisle |
| Towards the light they?ll go. |
| A person certainly will be there |
| ?Someone to watch over me? |
| (Oh, not Gershwin, I bet!) |
| But someone special it has to be. |
| Enough of myself, |
| I want "mybody" else |
| To share, divide, multiply |
| To connect me into this and try |
| To obtain the confidence |
| In angels, saints, forget-me-nots |
| And cross the brand new fence |
| Through the plain land of gods. |
| If resting in the arms of Morpheus |
| Means having you, my dear, |
| Life, farewell, |
| I'm on my way, with no fear. |
| By the time another breeze drops by |
| And uncombs my quiet eyes |
| Once again I'll smell the rich soil |
| The flowers, the trees, the royal. |
| This breeze will ask you to come along |
| By tunning you an appealing song: |
| To love me truly and with me stay |
| For this, my unknown beloved, I pray. |
| Maria de São José Tavares Dias |
| September, 1998 |
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