– Carlos Drummond de Andrade, in “O amor natural”. Rio de Janeiro: Record, 1992. The tongue licks The tongue licks the red petals of the pluriopen rose; the tongue plows a certain hidden button, and weaves light variations of light rhythms. And it licks, licks, licks, the hairy cave licorine, and the more licking, the more active, it reaches the sky of heaven, amid moans, amid screams, bleats and roars of lions in the forest, enraged