Murilo Mendes

1901 - 1975

Two-Edged Sword

The opposite always arrives:
Everything that one has not asked for.

The invisible insists:
Nobody sees his own handkerchief.

In the deserted plain
Our ghost cries
For his life that is ruining itself.

Blue ball, it has been blown
By the evil winds.

Pure spirit.
Ripe hell.
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