The Nazar CRUISE, 03-07-1968 I go up the immense slope, to only see. To see what? Poor children to eat clay, Adobe and land are its pregnant foods, Women to go up, Macrbias to go down. All with the same instinct, the same determination, the same suffering. Potbellied children and pregnant women Waiting another sofredor. Laundrywomen married cachaceiros, Seven children in each home hungry and saturated Children Of the dirt that folloies to them.
Children who cry the misery That is its perpetual friend. The hunger dominates and said. The parents cannot buy foods. The ones that is bought the children give of gift to the worms that in them inhabit. Poor Cruise. It looks at nobody you, admire Many to ask for you votes.
It helps nobody you. Many feel mourning to you. Poor women, Prostitutes of the language of the people. Poor children, do not cry, Hide its miseries. Everything lacks, I knows to them. Until tears to cry. They had lost themselves In the deepenings of a hell. Direct hell for vocs, Saudoso for the tourists. Quiet hell, it is a cancer; It destroys to the few and it finishes with many. It does not only finish its distresses, its clear misery. Clear and that nobody wants to see. I write with the heart, Vocs I speak with the eyes. I hate with the poetry, Vocs I hate I silence with it. Vocs is lost In the imensido of the mountain. They had been forgotten by the powerful ones That they feel vocs mourning.