my verse is blood

 


Disenchantment

Manuel Bandeira


I write these verses as I weep,

With disenchantment and dismay.

Please close my book if now in glee

You have no reason to cry, I pray.


My verse is blood. It's burning lust...

It's scattered grief and vain remorse.

It hurts my veins; it makes me flush.

It oozes, drop by drop, in sores.


These lines, this anguish, this hoarse cry

They flow like life from my dry lips,

They leave an acrid aftertaste.

I write these verses at death's door.




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