The dead man bathed in the moon's flashlight.

For the detective, no insight

Except the dark swamp, the fallen corpse,

The thick blood, and the report

By the mean faced policeman

That was now holding a lantern

While he interrogated the black eyed blonde

Who worked for a Greek restaurant

About the money and the strange notes in the car,

About the strange grimace of a smile, about the blood on her scarf.

And before the song on the radio is over

He says: "Only a miracle can save her".

In his hands, the torn letter, a bottle of whiskey.

But a verdict is still a little too risky.

Nothing was clear in the statements, of how this broad

Was found on a full moon by the side of the road:

"You gotta pay for what you cannot say",

She said, right as he turned away

From a kiss that would have been fatal.

The moon enhanced her crystals.

And then a moment of silence

As the crickets punctuated a sign.

She said: "The clues are everywhere

In your diary, on the sixteenth, in red, on the calendar".

While the detective searched the night

The blonde poured something white

Into his bottle. "In this profession, you need time

To solve this almost perfect crime".

She said nothing, or almost nothing, only heard

As the truth was revealed in every word.

At this point, everything seemed so clear

As he said: "Have a drink, now, my dear!"


Rodrigo Garcia Lopes (Translated by Marco Alexandre de Oliveira)





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