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Midnight customer

Midnight
In the middle of the Largo do Arouche
In front of the Flower Market
There's a French restaurant
And there, I waited for you
 
Midnight
In a scourging cold
The candy shop and its sweets
Will always offer
An iridescence of pleasure
 
And there's no way to deny
That the plate on bid
Won't make you salivate
 
In a small room of illusion
My dog that doesn't bark in vain
In the abrasive cold I meditate
Next time I won't be your customer
 
Midnight
In a scourging cold
The candy shop and its sweets
Will always offer
An iridescence of pleasure
 
And there's no way to deny
That the plate on bid
Won't make you salivate
 
In a small room of illusion
My dog that doesn't bark in vain
In the abrasive cold I meditated
Next time I won't be your customer
 

Beach of the end of the world

In this place only of sand,
no longer land, yet not sea,
we could sing.
 
Oh night, solitude, haze,
country of stars without voice,
what shall we sing?
 
Our shadows on the beach
can be night and can be sea
to go through the air and through the water
 
But I sing it, but I dream it,
in what way will they find
what is not vain?
 
Let us sing, but, friends,
in this impossible place
that is neither land nor sea:
 
On the beach of the end of the world
which will not withhold from us
either shadow or voice.
 
(1961)