Mágoa [English translation]

They float light, heedless

My thoughts of sorrow

As in the sleep of the winds

The algae, slow hair

Of the dead body of the waters

They float as dead leaves

On the surface of still waters

They are things wearing nothing

Dust whirling in the doors

Of abandoned houses

Sleep of existence, without remedy

Vestige of what was not

Bears the sorrow, brief tedium

I am not sure if it stops, if it flows

I am not sure if it exists or if it aches.