Lavoura Arcaica

And let no one shall rest...
when a brother is in need.
I hadn't left home yet, Pedro...
but I saw suspicion
in Mother's eyes.

I wanted to tell her:
"You are saying farewell now
without knowing me."

I could have said:
"All I did was nestle in the straw
of your womb for nine months...

and receiving for many years the
tender touch of your hands and lips."

"That's why I'm leaving home...
that's why I'm going away."
I could have told her
so much, Pedro.

But I thought it was useless.
"It makes no sense",
I thought...

to leave in her poor,
flour-coated hands...

an exasperated
carnation stem.

"It makes no sense",
I thought twice...

to stain her apron...
to cut the cord...
and other leaves.
That's why instead
of saying...

"Mother, you don't know me..."
I preferred, Pedro,
with my mouth dry and salty...