The poet rode the trolley drunk. <br />The sun came up behind the yards. <br />The small hotels slept very sadly. <br />The houses too were drunk. <br /> <br />Everything was a total wreck. <br />Nobody knew that the world was going to end <br />(only a child did but kept it quiet), <br />that the world was going to end at 7:45. <br />Last thoughts! Last telegrams! <br /> <br />Joe who listed pronouns, <br />Helen who loved men, <br />Sebastian who ruined himself, <br />Arthur who never said anything, <br />set off for eternity. <br /> <br />The poet is drunk, but <br />he hears a voice in the dawn: <br />Why don't we all go dancing <br />between the trolley and the tree? <br /> <br />Between the trolley and the tree <br />dance, brothers! <br />Even without music <br />dance, brothers! <br />Children are being born <br />with so much spontaneity. <br />Love is fantastic <br />(love and what it produces). <br /> <br />Dance, brothers! <br />Death will come later <br />like a sacrament.<br /><br />Carlos Drummond de Andrade<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dawn-85/
