Tuesday, 26 March 2013



I sing because the instant exists
and my life is complete.
I am neither happy nor sad: 
I am a poet.

Kin to fleeting things,
I feel neither pleasure nor torment.
I cross night and day 
In the wind.

Whether I collapse or I build, 
Whether I last or am unmade,
I do not know. I do not know 
Whether I pass or stay.

I know I sing; the song is all;
And the rhythm’d wing’s blood is eternal.
I know I will be mute one day 
— and that is all. 

Cecília Meireles (before 1937)