Девушка из Бразилии,
где много диких обезьян, на португальском пишет сонеты.
Грустное там Если долго вглядываться на кладбище на памятники усопшим, какие-то похожие чувства пробуждает.
A sad day, dark and so cold,
Biting was the wind, which cleaver ...
It sounded like a minor cello
That desolate graveyard.
I looked into the face faded
A pale angel, eerie and simple
- A funeral monument, so beautiful -
Who rested on the grave.
As I watched, melancholy, that image,
Do not know if it was real or just mirage,
But that statue changing its size ...
The marble angel, I looked so sad,
As dead as one who was awake,
He looked me and gave me his Death.
/Как-то так, на русском совсем коряво звучит./