I need any object, a poem by Sebastião Alba

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I need any object of yours,

 something that you can get rid of now, 

but was yours, to bring with me these days.

I don't remember 

if I already told you that the American writer 

Ernest Hemingway carried a rabbit's paw in his pocket. 

Your father's ancestors, mine, were magicians, witches, fetishists.

Leave him at the door, 

I'll see him, darling.

I will always come with a letter for you. 

When it doesn't come, 

it's because Braga's bells were deafening me, 

and I went for a walk.

Take the dew and the rose, my love.