Your hair has lost more of its colour with the sun,
my queen in black and of salt.
The shore has left the sea and followed you
like a shadow, like an unarmed serpent.
Declining summer ghosts pass by,
through the vessels of my marine soul.
And my life is lighted,
under your green eye at noon,
but grey as the ground at dusk.
Oh, I run and jump and pour out.
But leave me a minute.
But leave me a second.
But leave me a leaf, a bit of sand.
But leave me a breeze, a wave.
But leave me a season, a year, some time.
_____
Translated by António Dinis Lopes
