Thursday 25 September 2008

meio-soneto torto/crooked half-sonnet

A tela radioatiava fere as retinas,
Drena o cérebro, tira a vida;
Longe de si, o homem constrói e planeja,
Ele criou o dinheiro, que agora o governa.
A liberdade grita das profundezas da consciência,
Silenciosa como a natureza caindo e morrendo
Pelas mãos do progresso e da tecnologia.



Radioactive screen sores the retinas,
Drains the brain, takes the life away;
Away from himself, man builds and plans,
He has created money, which now rules him.
Freedom screams from the depths of consciousness,
Silent as nature falling and dying
By the hands of progress and technology.

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