Poem: Drummond | Translation: André Morais
Good morning! I say to the girl
that smiles from afar
Good morning! But from the distance
she doesn’t even say it back.
For nothing the speech of the eyes
and of the hands
says again: good morning.
to the girl that was at night
and at day far away
from my reach
and my poor good morning.
But, good morning. Always!
If the answer comes cold or late,
yet I will wait for the good day.
And between the small houses,
over the hills and the plains,
I will keep on repeating
lovely, everytime, good morning.
The girl doesn't notice
doesn't feel, doesn't even think
what there is of love in the core
of this good morning.
Good morning, I repeat by day
and by night I go: good morning.
