CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE
No, my heart is not bigger than the world,
It is much smaller.
It cannot hold even my griefs.
That is why I like so much to unbosom myself.
To undress myself,
To cry out,
To drop around newspaper offices, exposing myself
so cruelly at book-stores.
I need everybody.
Yes, my heart is very small.
Only now I see it cannot hold mankind.
The people who are here on the outside, on the street.
The street is too long. Longer, much longer than I
expected it to be.
But the street cannot hold all men either.
The street is smaller than the world.
The world is big.
You know how big the world is.
You know the tankships which carry petrol and books,
meat and cotton.
You have seen the different colors of men,
The different griefs of men,
You know how hard it is to suffer that much, to heap
up all of that
Inside the single heart of a man without blowing it up.
Just close your eyes and forget it.
Listen to the water against the glass pane,
It is so calm, It does not announce anything.
However, it trickles through your hands,
So very still! It goes by flooding everything...
Will the submerged cities be born again?
Will the submerged men return? Will they?
My heart does not know of it.
My heart is stupid, ridiculous and fragile.
Only now I find out
How sad it is to disown certain things.
(In my individual solitude,
I have unlearned the language with which men communicate.)
Of yore I listened to angels,
Sonatas, poems, pathetic confessions.
I never listened to the voice of people.
In truth I am very poor.
Of yore, I journeyed
Along imaginary countries, peaceful places to dwell in.
Untroubled Islands, though they were exhaustive and
prone to suicide.
My friends have gone to the islands.
The islands destroy man.
Yet, some of them have surkited and
Brought the news
That the world, the big world is growing up every day
Between fire and love
Therefore, my heart may also grow up, I
Betw@@n love and fire,
Between life and fire,
My heart grows up ten meters high and bursts out.
- 0, future life! We will create you.