FLOWERS ON THE STREETS

Who am I to speak of beautiful things;

  If the days and the nights follow their cycle.

  The garden is still flowering in the spring.

  The public will laugh at the circus clowns.

They will weep the defeated of wars.

  There will always be the winner and the vanquished,

  To seek happiness in other lands.

  And those who stay in a forgotten corner.

Who am I to say of right and wrong,

  If I do not find the truth myself.

  Infructant seeds that I have plowed,

  Like planting flowers in the streets of the city.

Walter Branco