In stillness I lie, inert
In this experienced present
of any certain future.
Conscious of who I was, who I am
Who I’m possibly ever becoming!
In the absence of the utterable
I’m smothering obsolete words
Felt to the utmost so
Scarring the memory of my days.
This silence so remote
The one I’m dragging within
Where from I cannot deduce
Still, I lie waiting…
Signs of a time
Wither cries choke and the memory cries
Now what came to pass.
António Patrício Pereira / Edgar Arruda (translation)