METAPOEMA III

                                               As coisas

                                               Emitem luz

                                 Ignoram distâncias

                                           Estão no meu jardim

                                                  E na

                                                          Macedônia

               As coisas

               São doces

               Prestimosas

               E votivas

                                               As coisas rentes

                                               Ferem o real

                                               As capturadas

                                               Morrem

As coisas revelam

O pacto entre

O divino e o sensual

                                    As coisas

                                         Todas elas

                                           Carregam

                                                  Um pouco

                                                          De mim

Manoel Olavo