Poetica (I)

                                                                        
                                                             De manhã escureço
                                                             De dia tardo
                                                             De tarde anoiteço
                                                             De noite ardo.
                                                             
                                                             A oeste a morte
                                                             Contra quem vivo
                                                             Do sul cativo
                                                             O este é meu norte

                                                             Outros que contem
                                                             Passo por passo
                                                             Eu morro ontem

                                                             Nasço amanhã
                                                             Ando agora há espaço
                                                               -Meu tempo é quando. 

                                                                             Vinicios de Moraes