{"text":"She goes on with her beautiful hair and mouth like before,I go on like before, alone in the field.It’s like my head had been lowered,And if I think this, and raise my headAnd the golden sun dries the need to cry I can’t stop having.How vast the field and interior love... !I look, and I forget, like dryness where there was water and trees losing their leaves.","author":"Alberto Caeiro","tags":["feeling","forgetting","longing","love","out-of-love","paganism","pantheism","seeing","truth","wonder"],"id":15808,"author_id":"Alberto+Caeiro"}