domingo, 19 de fevereiro de 2017

Four Hands Sonnet

 All of love that exists in me has been given.
All that speaks of me of love has been said.
From nothing in me, love made the infinite
That by far made me enslaved.
So prodigal of love I was poor
So easy to love I was banished.
Every vow I made rose to shout
Against my own give too much.
I have given of love more than I could
In this my poor human heart
Of this eternal love of mine did not give before.
For if by so much giving I made a mistake
Better off giving and receiving
To live the life of love without harm.

Vinicius de Moraes and Paulo Mendes Campos