"Esse filho só de sangue"

That son made of blood that runs down your legs

is me. We could've taught him the words, but

his name is now all blood. We could have

shown him the sky, but his eyes are now all blood.

We could've held his hand inside

ours, but his hand is now all blood. That son

all blood that runs down your legs and dies

is me, my blood and my memory.

José Luís Peixoto (translated by me)

De regresso a esta casa, para arquivar "nube" (na nuvem) uma parte daquilo que por aqui se vai escrevendo...