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“Oh wind, you invisible mare, place these words upon your tail and ride due west,

Lope through forests black and brambled, amble through fire blue and red,

If in your sight you spy a mountain, tall and wide as sea or sky,

Do not refrain from marching forth, as a patriot prepared to die,

Pirouette if you must, where you see fit, I know your kind,

But in dizzied daze do not forget, the words upon a supple spine,

If you see a city’s lights, do not be mused by drink or fare,

No poison so intoxicating, no pudding sweet as a lover’s prayer,

No need for me to draw a course, you know where her planted feet will be,

Strong and sure they hold her spirit, upon a winter’s moonlit balcony,

Cradle these words as if a child, tight to your breast as if your own,

And speak them as if they themselves, were the words that fell from Gods tongue,

Guide them gently through her hair, as if fingers passing time,

Press them tender to her cheek, where a rosy-red chill does climb,

You wild and sightless steed, Natures breath, please be a friend,

A lover’s wish is no less than, the pointed whisker of a king’s command,

But just before you reach her I beg, pass her garden on your way,

And pluck with your curtain of air, the proudest sprig of rosemary,

Pass it just above her lip, where heavens fairest skin resides,

And the sparkling arms of the night-sky would stretch no wider than her smile,

For this scent it will design, with colors lit by the brightest orb,

A portrait of my hearts parade, and you will not need to speak a word.”

-São Paulo 02'