Near to the Wild Heart

by Clarice Lispector

I only have one life and this life slips through my fingers and travels to death serenely and I can do nothing and all I do is watch my depletion with each passing minute, I am alone in the world, those who are fond of me don’t know me, those who know me fear me and I am small and poor, I won’t know I existed in a few years’ time, all that is left for me to live is little and yet all that is left for me to live will remain untouched and useless, why do you not take pity on me? me who is nothing, give me what I need, God, give me what I need and I don’t know what that is, my desolation is as deep as a well and I am not mistaken as far as myself and others are concerned, come to me in misfortune and misfortune is today, misfortune is always, I kiss your feet and the dust of your feet, I want to dissolve in tears, from the depths I call thee, come to my aid for I have not sinned, from the depths I call thee and you do not answer and my desperation is dry like the desert sands and my perplexity suffocates me, humiliates me, God, this pride to be alive gags me, I am nothing, from the depths I call thee, from the depths I call thee from the depths I call thee from the depths I call thee . . .