ÁLVARO SANCLEMENTE (1914-1949) Poem by Maruja Vieira

A small line
under your full name
joins your birth
to your death
and a bitter time
of countless rocks
deepens your
remembrance.

Upon our pain,
profounder than dirges,
the new anguish
of your resigned farewell fell.

And we felt more
truly alone when
on holding out our hands
we did not find yours.

Confused, we looked
at each other looking for you.
For you were as transparent
as books and music.

But in that blind
and definitive hour
only death gave
its certain word.

To describe to those
who did not know you
how serene your
presence in our lives was
one must talk about the earth
where trees grow
and about the color of the wind
that bends the ears of wheat.

You were natural and pure,
the shadow does not rub you out
nor do the fingers of silence
darken your face.

To think about you
there are no useless tears.
It is enough to say ‘friend'
to feel you are near.