Caught in the forest foothills before Parnassus I could climb,
I fight away the hungry barbs that drip you of activity
The myriad phantoms and ghosts of your every year
That irritate and tear the gilded youth you used to be,
And plague you with memories scars, of all your hopes and fears
Taking you once again to before reason stamped its feet upon your rhyme
To where nothing is, and nothing wants, a desert in any clime.
David Levitas
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brazil-2/
