In that time when they celebrated my birthday
I was happy, and nobody was dead
In mom's house, my birthday was a century-old tradition
and the happiness of all and mine was sure as the religions of the churches
In that time when they celebrated my birthday
I had the great luck of not understanding anything
of being smart to the family
and of not having the hopes others had for me.
when it came to have hopes, I didn't know how to have them.
when it came to look for life, I had lost the meaning of life.
Yeah! What I was of I was supposed to be
What I was of hard and parentship
What I was of sermons of baptism
What I was of they loved me and I was just a kid.
What I was - oh, my God! Today I see what I was
in the distance of
I can't quite find it:
The time when they celebrated my birthday.
What I am today is like the stains in the walls of the house,
asking for new painting.
What I am today (and the house of those who loved me and are sad for me),
What I am today is that they've sold the house,
Is that they've all died,
And I get to be a survivalist of myself like a cold match.
In that time when they celebrated my birthday
Let love come, like a person, in this time!
I wish the physics of the soul to be there once more
like in a trip through metaphysics and flesh,
a double-time of mine to myself....
And to eat the past as breakfast of hurry you'll be late to school.
I can see everything once more with a sharp eyesight that blinds to what is here now....
I see a beautiful table, many plates, decoration, many glasses,
the kitchen with many things - cookies, cakes, and the snacks of late at night.
the old brother, the uncle that came with present, and everyone was because of me
In that time when they celebrated my birthday...
Stop, my heart! Don't think. Let the thinking for the head!
My god! My god! My God!
Today I don't do birthdays. Stubborn.
The days come adding over me.
Simple as that.
I will be old when I be.
Nothing more.
Just that feeling I should have brought the past stolen in my backpack.
The time when they celebrated my birthday.
In mom's house, my birthday was a century-old tradition
and the happiness of all and mine was sure as the religions of the churches
In that time when they celebrated my birthday
I had the great luck of not understanding anything
of being smart to the family
and of not having the hopes others had for me.
when it came to have hopes, I didn't know how to have them.
when it came to look for life, I had lost the meaning of life.
Yeah! What I was of I was supposed to be
What I was of hard and parentship
What I was of sermons of baptism
What I was of they loved me and I was just a kid.
What I was - oh, my God! Today I see what I was
in the distance of
I can't quite find it:
The time when they celebrated my birthday.
What I am today is like the stains in the walls of the house,
asking for new painting.
What I am today (and the house of those who loved me and are sad for me),
What I am today is that they've sold the house,
Is that they've all died,
And I get to be a survivalist of myself like a cold match.
In that time when they celebrated my birthday
Let love come, like a person, in this time!
I wish the physics of the soul to be there once more
like in a trip through metaphysics and flesh,
a double-time of mine to myself....
And to eat the past as breakfast of hurry you'll be late to school.
I can see everything once more with a sharp eyesight that blinds to what is here now....
I see a beautiful table, many plates, decoration, many glasses,
the kitchen with many things - cookies, cakes, and the snacks of late at night.
the old brother, the uncle that came with present, and everyone was because of me
In that time when they celebrated my birthday...
Stop, my heart! Don't think. Let the thinking for the head!
My god! My god! My God!
Today I don't do birthdays. Stubborn.
The days come adding over me.
Simple as that.
I will be old when I be.
Nothing more.
Just that feeling I should have brought the past stolen in my backpack.
The time when they celebrated my birthday.
Poem: Fernando Pessoa | Translation: André Morais
