The rain falls down on last year's man,
that's a Jew's harp on the table,
that's a crayon in his hand.
And the corners of the blueprint are ruined since they rolled
far past the stems of thumbtacks
that still throw shadows on the wood.
And the skylight is like skin for a drum I'll never mend
and all the rain falls down amen
on the works of last year's man.
quem me dera (não) compreender o mundo.
Cristo Rei, Almada
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