by Edilson Afonso Ferreira
Day is done, has finished his performance.
Stilly slides, hides his face from this world.
He gave us a time to be, weave our clothes,
reward and condemn, praise and contest.
Leaves with him words we succeed to tell
and the untold ones, which only we know.
By last, give us night, to cradle our dreams,
looking for lovers hidden in the laps of time.