SAUDADE• is a metal screw.
And when a safe thread falls;
It only enters by many twists.

Because by hitting it won’t do;
And when it rusts in the walls;
[Not even] distorting it leaves.


SAUDADE• is like the wind.
It doesn’t stop at the blinds;
And in every home it enters,
It lives (de trop) but centred.

It locks the doors and hearts.
‘My voice’ is stuck to dispel it.
Unaided, I only feel saudade,
Solo (because) I cannot sell it.




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