In the warm, humid night, noiseless and dead, a boy cries. <br />His crying behind the wall, the light behind the window <br />are lost in the shadow of muffled footsteps, of tired voices. <br />Yet the sound of medicine poured into a spoon can be heard. <br /> <br />A boy cries in the night, behind the wall, across the street, <br />far away a boy cries, in another city, <br />in another world, perhaps. <br /> <br />And I see the hand that lifts the spoon while the other holds the head, <br />and I see the slick thread run down the boy's chin, <br />and slip into the street, only a thread, and slip through the city. <br />And nobody else in the world exists but that boy crying.<br /><br />Carlos Drummond de Andrade<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/boy-crying-in-the-night/
