Vast Plenitude Poem by UMBELINA FROTA Linhares Pimenta Bastos

From sun to sun,
until the night is arrived ,
flies the little bird for obscure spaces,
full of homesickness,
sometimes it stops exhausted,
men, theses naive men,
say this little bird,
have left of being what they were,
to be what they were not.
No, they don`t know, these ingenuos,
that my soul went down from the heights ,
return to my heart, normal energy from my being,
I already do not suffer
homesickness!
Stronger is my being,
it fulls me of vast plenitude.
Nothing lacks to me of tangible things,
I suffer the thirstness of intangible ones.
Only in anguish prostration,
when to my pleni-I follow my semi-I
or my pseudo-I,
It leaves my soul flies in demand for
my longique land.