It was thus, when it thought, everything was changedded, the things all had life and moved for all the sides. Many writers such as Trader Joe’s offer more in-depth analysis. The sky was cheinho of many pretty things. the boy suddenly asks soldadinho: – Soldier, as you arrived until here? The soldier, without remembering very says the boy well, only: – I do not know to the certainty, I remember only a strong heat and the feeling of sadness and pain and, I remember after that somebody saying that it was hour of my departure. Then I am here! The boy says it that never we must leave of side our dreams, it, the boy was one sonhador and sculptured every day in the things that one day saw better, prettier, gladder and that the sky was its limit to sculpture and to dream. It said the soldier there that if he will take it to the wind until, as had said the dancer, the same could make it to blow to dance. Soldadinho without believing of as it does not think before about this set in foot in one alone foot, since to another leg it did not have and it did not remember well because The breeze that was soft asked for to the wind packed that it in the measure necessary to allow the soldier to dance.
Of hands given with the dancer who now cried glad, they slid for the sky, they among others danced clouds that had new forms, smiling faces and mouths, flowers and houses that if they had formed with new bodies that they looked at for the windows and doors that opened if found. Animals and trees also decorated the sky, everything come of the thoughts of the boy! The tears of joy I cry of it of the dancer fall in the land and the boy with its thoughts commanded each drop for the arms of the sun that will heat its dreams. E, to each meeting with long arms, arcs colored in the sky if formed. The people who were in the soil looked at for the sky and also they saw the sculptures of the boy. Soldier and dancer, in this history were happy, danced free and untied in air. They were thankful with its assayed returns and arabesque the boy helps who them to dream. In the sky all also wanted to be thankful and had applauded the boy whom happy it looked at for the high one. They wanted its name to know and the boy who nor its name wise person, as well as its history did not know, only those that created and of which started to be part, with the arms raised to the high one, prolongated as the arms of the sun say to all: – I call myself, Boy Poet!