Explore "Verses on the Brink of Evening" by Carlos Drummond de Andrade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I feel time's heavy hand weigh down on me. Wrinkles, bad teeth, baldness. A greater acceptance of everything, and the fear of new discoveries.
Will I write sonnets that they call "mature"? Will I convey an illusion of calm? Will I always be nutty? Always a liar? Will I mock the world? Believe in myths? For a long time I've felt the old man in me.