Of all, I will be attentive to my love Before, and with such zeal, and always, and so much That even in the face of the greatest enchantment My thought will be more enchanted by it. I want to live it in every vain moment And in its praise I will spread my song And laugh my laughter and shed my tears In its sorrow or its contentment. And so, when later He seeks me Who knows death, the anguish of those who live Who knows loneliness, the end of those who love I can say to myself of the love (that I had): May it not be immortal, since it is a flame But may it be infinite while it lasts. Vinicius de Moraes