My Shaky Hand Poem by Jonas Goncalves

To the pacient poet,
who saw the world falling into perdition,
I, another young, I say to you which nowadays
everything's much more lost.

Perhaps above our heads there's peace.
However, each day which passes
I start to believe much more
in the pessimism which Assis
nurtured for so long.

I never did my words of others' actions,
because in the midst of such human evolution,
I believe, then, in the need for innovation
which we are charged daily.
Nevertheless, I can realize the insignificance
of this my thought
when suddenly
I become the direct agent.

We move with such stupidity
that I doubt our rationality
I'm sorry for getting only negativity,
but the deeds are disgusting
and who'll say about reasons?

I see the kids running
without even knowing what happens
and I can't feel another thing
except pity and will to try to change
the awful future which we'll let them.

When that secret war comes back,
my hope shrinks and vanishes.
When misery prevails
my disgust grows.
When the innocent die,
and they treat them disdainfully,
my hand sweats and shakes;
it shakes more than it sweats
and it sweats more than it writes.

The palace can't collapse
Because it's more important
for this country's beauty
than the own survival.
While everything collapses outside,
we protect the coffers;
after all, the future is so close!