Mornings and afternoons, centuries and seasons,

they are always blowing the dust which settles

in my body, daily corrupting and weakening it.

Age weighs heavily, muscles become thinner,

thoughts flow slowly, hair thins and turns white,

I cannot hide or camouflage the marks  

of the passing years.    

But my spirit has been kept deep inside my soul,

and, quite the contrary, it strengthens, does not

break down, it rejuvenates and rises up.

And so, I am coming to the end of my times,

perhaps I can still represent a little 

of our long-suffering and beloved human race.

The one that fights and does not give up on continuing

to write their history of difficult struggles,

many setbacks, few but valuable achievements

and victories, what serve as an example

and encouragement to those who will come.

This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©