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■ A 8th Bienal do Douro sem limites
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| [Este texto deve ser lido em english]
A time comes
When we must draw, beneath ourselves A black line And do the maths. A couple of moments when we fell just short of being happy, A couple of moments when we fell just short of being beautiful, A couple of moments when we fell just short of being brilliant. We met a couple of times With some mountains, with some trees, with some waters (Where are they now? Are they still alive?). All these make for a bright future - One we have lived. A woman we loved And the same woman who didn't love us back Add up to zero. A quarter of the study years Make for several billion fodder words, The wisdom of which we have steadily done away with. And, finally, one fate Plus another (where did this one come from?) Add up to two (This we write and this we claim, Maybe, who knows, there is also an afterlife).
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