José Araujo de Souza
It was like a rainbow
beautiful hue and many suns.
It had a little bit of everything and nothing
and sang, sang like a bullfinch.
On moonlit nights, I left home
and walked and flew like a moth.
During the day, he was quiet, aloof,
as if the daylight hurt you.
And he didn’t care if he came or went
and it kept turning, like a sunflower.
Then, suddenly, one day,
turned fantasy in my mind.
It was then that it became a thought
and poetry, to die, simply,
in this role.