Mother Poem by Mário de Andrade

My life is one to-day, ´tis clear to see,
Of happiness unrelieved: I cannot say
If I enjoy it, since enjoyment may
Only be judged by pain and misery.

I know that all´s illusion, vanity,
But still I choose Illusion… Still dare say
Life is the precious boon which everyday
I have adored. This was my sin. ´Twould be

Unthinkable, with age alone to spend,
With self complete and able to take breath,
To cling to this umprofitable strife.

I pin my every hope upon my end.
Come, sleep! I hope that I may welcome death
As gullibly as I have welcome life.