Espelho quebrado [English translation]

With its whip, the wind

Breaks the lake's mirror.

In me, the impact

Was more violent

Because the wind, as it passed

Was whispering your name...

After whispering it, it left me.

It ran so very fast,

That it didn't even know how to destroy

My sorrows, in which I am

So very steadfast!

But, with its passagepassage

It cut, on the glass

Of the lake, my slave's

Image.

Oh liquid glass

Of my eyes, without you

I asked for a windstorm

In vain!

So that the mirror that puts me in mourning

Could be broken,

And it could leave me with a dry face.

In me, the wind

Was much more violent...