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./

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