Explore "Feeling of the World" by Carlos Drummond de Andrade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I have just two hands and the feeling of the world, but I'm teeming with slaves, my memories are streaming and my body yields at the crossroads of love.
When I get up, the sky will be dead and plundered, I myself will be dead, my desire and the songless swamp dead.
My comrades didn't tell me that a war was on and I needed to bring arms and food.
I feel scattered, before any borders, and I humbly beseech your pardon.
When the bodies pass I'll stay on alone unraveling the memory of the bell ringer, the widow, and the microscope man who lived in the tentand were missing the next morning that morning more night than the night.