The sun rises and lasts no more than a day.

After the light, it follows the dark night,

In sad shadows the beauty dies,

Emétruas sorrows the joy.

But if the sun is gone, why was it born?

If the light is fair, why does it not last?

How can such a beauty be transformed?

How does the taste of the pen look like this?

But in the sun and in the light the firmness is lacking;

In beauty, do not give constancy

And in joy, sadness.

Come the world, finally by ignorance,

And it has any of the goods by nature:

A firmness only in inconstancy.

- Gregório de Matos (1636 - 1695)