Sá Carneiro

Fios de oiro puxam por mim

 

                                                                              a soerguer-me na poeira —

 

                                                                              Cada um para seu fim,

 

                                                                              Cada um para seu norte…

 

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                                                                              — Ai que saudade da morte…

 

 

 

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                                                                              Quero dormir… ancorar…

 

 

 

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                                                                              Arranquem-me esta grandeza!

 

                                                                              — P’ra que me sonha a beleza

 

                                                                              Se a não posso transmigrar?…