If foaming wrath, if pain that dwells in man’s
Soul, and destroys all dreams as they are born,
Each hurting sting, each heart-devouring pang,
Could only impress’d appear upon the face;
If the lamenting spirit you could see
Through the disguise that masks the human look,
Maybe so many people who now make
Us envious, would then move us to pity!
Perhaps so many laughing people keep
Within a recondite atrocious foe,
As a cancerous sore which can´t be seen!
So many laughing people may be found,
Whose only real joy is to appear
To others in a cloud of some false happiness.
(Translation into English: Carlos Alberto Santos)