Creedence Clearwater Revival & Alma Novaes

 

Growing old drunk

A red wine that blurs its blackness, 

a worn glass and a look at nothingness

that time quiets down 

in the haste of others and unravels in mine.

From the clock to the glass of oblivion

At the table, that the age of friends is lost

in the obituary of the daily news.

And the crossword puzzle

already so scrawly,

I read your status vertically

- tired of being useless, without creations,

No adventures, no worries

(except for the liver and sometimes the crop)

- Tired of being only useful

In the tavern between the late afternoon dominoes,

A wind that sometimes blows

coming from Spain

and the arrival of the dog Laica

who comes to fetch you to bed.

- - I'm coming, Laica, I'm going