O Escafandro da Matéria e o Toque no Metal

 

O Escafandro da Matéria e o Toque no Metal

No Andaraí, no verão de noventa,

Sob o peso do corpo, o escafandro real,

A alma liberta-se e o éter enfrenta,

Buscando no bosque o par ideal.

Estudante do Pedro II a sonhar,

Deixou a matéria no plano do chão;

A doce promessa ouviu ecoar,

Num salto quântico de pura atração.

Meses depois, no ônibus cheio,

O toque no ferro, a eletricidade;

O campo de força que age no meio,

Provando a sutil e real afinidade.

Ainda que a mente esqueça a feição,

E o tempo imponha a dor do adiar,

O átomo guarda a eterna junção,

Que um dia o cosmos virá revelar.

 

The Diver's Suit of Clay and the Touch on Metal

In ninety's warm summer, Andaraí's night,

Beneath the heavy, deep suit of our clay,

The spirit escaped to the regions of light,

To walk in the grove where the frequencies play.

A student of dreams who had left all behind,

To hear the sweet promise that conquered the dark;

A quantum connection of heart and of mind,

Igniting the space with a permanent spark.

Then months flew away, on a crowded bus ride,

The hand on the metal, the current so clear;

A physical force that was acting inside,

To prove that the partner was standing so near.

Though features and names have now faded to grey,

And decades of waiting have tested your state,

The atom preserves what was promised that day,

Aligning your systems to conquer your fate.