Swipe of the Sword by Carlos Drummond de Andrade

We're even, brother, you got your revenge.

Down came the sword and off came my arm.

Here it is, dripping red.

My shoulder hurts, but upon it your justice gleams.

Now you can smile, molding your lips into a loving kiss.

I kiss you, brother, my debt is paid.

We've settled accounts, we're happy.

Your blade cuts but is sweet, my flesh aches but will heal.

The eternal sun shines again and dries the wound.

I'm mutilated, yes, but so much movement in me seeks order.

What I've lost is multiplied, and a poverty made of pearls redeems time, saves the night.

Now I know you're a brother, in the flesh as well as on Sundays.

We'll roll together in the sea. Wrapped in your revenge, pure and impartial as a corpse embalmed by air, I'll be cargo tossed to the waves, but the waves dry up too, and the sun always shines.

On my table, on my grave, how the sun shines! Thank you, brother, for the sun you gave me when it seemed you were taking it away.

I can no longer classify precious things.

Everything is precious... and peaceful like eyes ensconced behind eyelids.