Boy crying in the night
BY CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE (TRANS. BY TOLA SYLVAN)
In the slow and warm night, dead noiseless night, a boy cries.
The cry behind the wall, the light behind the window
get lost in the shadow of muffled footsteps, exhausted voices.
Though you can hear even the sound of a drop of medicine falling in its spoon.
A boy cries in the night, behind the wall, behind the street,
far away a boy cries, in another city maybe,
maybe in another world.
And I see the hand that lifts the spoon, while the other supports the head
and I see the oily thread that runs down the boy’s chin,
runs down the street, runs through the city (just a thread).
And there’s nobody else in the world besides this boy crying.