Three Whistles

When the whistle from the cloth factory Comes to offend my ears I remember you But you are without a doubt quite irritated And want to pretend you don't see me You, who listens for the whistle From the clay chimney Why not pay attention to the distressed cry From the horn of my car?

You in the winter Go to work without stockings Have no faith in sweaters Nor believe in the cold But you are the same article with no equal When the factory whistles It advertises you In my eyes you read that I suffer cruelly With jealousy of the impertinent manager Who gives you orders

I live in the night Am a very gloomy poet Who will be night watchman And you know why But you don't know That while you make fabric Beside the piano, I Make these verses for you.

Três Apitos