sexta-feira, 21 de novembro de 2008


It is seen death, meets this last pleasure,
Final joy of who lives in that it learns,
And finds the nothing, that of the salvation depends,
Where, in general, the hope tends to lie.

Nothing more it remains, for this unhealthy life,
That death without glory of that everything knows,
Exactly that does not have God, and none I appeal fits,
Dies happy, in the glad certainty without baptism.

Because I stopped to learn, I happy mount,
And because I was the same per almost two seconds.
It is without distrust that I cross the bridge between such worlds:

Which of certainty, disgust this that I never wanted,
Such of doubt, last always uncertain pleasure,
This joy, new development that is more close.

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