Carlos Drummond de Andrade, em “O amor natural”. Rio de Janeiro: Record, 1992.
The butt, how funny.
He is always smiling, he is never tragic.
in front of the body. The ass is enough.
Is there anything else? Maybe the breasts.
Now – murmurs the ass – these boys
they still have a lot to study.
The ass are two twin moons
in rotund wiggle. Walk by yourself
in the mimosa cadence, in the miracle
to be two in one, fully.
The ass has fun
on its own. And love.
In bed, it is agitated. Mountains.
they swell, they descend. Waves crashing
on an endless beach.
There the ass goes smiling. Go happy
in the caress of being and rocking
Harmonious spheres over chaos.
The butt is the butt