Waiting for this night to pass,
Waiting for another day
In which to act my part again,
I reach with handless arms
Into the mists of unreality
Seeking that tranquillity of mind
That drives away despair.
But soon there comes a crimson dawning
With sighs of old men yawning
Away their senile years
While life emerges from the womb anew
Only to find, as darkness turns to light,
The clashing sentiments of a false world
In which only the intangible is true

Footnote :
I can recommend the recently published bilingual anthology “ 28 Portuguese Poets”. Details : www.dedaluspress.com