Immortal

I am a man

Who won’t know the old age

I won’t have patience

To live with senile passivity

I have a weak organism

That was defeated by the arts study

Mainly by the philosophy

My weird way of life

Won’t wait the natural death

The idle peace that the poetry needs

Will bother me. I’ll do what I have to do.

Before I could be defeated by the driving force

That takes the soul before

The body falls inert with the stagnated blood

The active soul dies first

Slave remains the physical soul that borrow us

The strength to walk and make our physiological needs

Dies the man, not the soul that he guided

That he fed with music and essential poetry

To apotheosis that divinizes God in man.

No to metaphysics, no to physics.

Yes to the poetic soul who lives on you.

Immortal is Who drinks the vital blood

The soul of every dead poet.

Evan do Carmo

Traduzido por Evan Henrique