THE WAIT
by Antônio Moura
Waiting, standing, on the rock,
between the sea's green sphere
and the star that nears
every night, you speak
more and more mutely,
with a voice that listens to the bottom
of another voice that comes
and saysandoesn't in an echo,
in uh? seaweed language,
a wee bit like this deaf sound:
nada, dressed in body and Karma
while the world dissolves
From Silence river, 2012.
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