As a child along summers,
I used to watch the flight of the Swallows
And I saw my hopes in them
That in a golden future I envisioned...
But autumn the sky was clear:
They flew over other places,
And watching them again in dreams, mirages,
So I waited their return...
By the turning of the wheels of destiny
I moved away from those little birds,
Along the coming and going of the seasons, misfortunes...
And now I realize, amidst distress,
That hopes, as well as swallows,
Many are gone and shall never return...
© Oriza Martins
Trad.Daiane da Silva