Este eu escrevi em inglês mesmo. E na maior felicidade.

Love for a crib

When he was reborn he first awoke on a crib
and learned to love it from the start.
Years passed by and he took the crib with him;
he used to put it by the bed
and tell all the strange dreams he had in wintertime.

Then he grew older (but not wiser)
And one day a great snowstorm froze his heart
And turned his eyes as red as the dying sun.
But it took only a quick look at the crib
To remember how suave was the music in the forelife
And recall the surprisingly warm kiss of the Grim Reaper.

So he was afraid no more
(though in the next life he woke up in a cold alley)
and the thought of the crib eased his soul forever.
And believe me, it was a very old and tired soul.

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