Explore "The Ox" by Carlos Drummond de Andrade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
O solitude of the ox in the field, O solitude of the man in the street! Amid cars, trains, telephone and shouts, a wilderness. O solitude of the ox in the field, O millions suffering without any scourge! Night or sunlight, it's all the same: darkness begins with the dawn.
O solitude of the ox in the field, people writhing without a sound! The city defies all explanation, and the houses have no meaning.
O solitude of the ox in the field! The ghost ship sails in silence down the crowded street.
If only a storm of love would strike! Hands joined together, life saved. But the weather is still. The ox is alone.
In the sprawling field a towering oil rig.