este terror
O amante, o amado fazem-
- se o mesmo, não, amar é separar.
Por mais longe que um homem ande
quem o amou anda com ele, não,
o que nós temos tem este terror
e os anos pelo meio? as outras
horas que outros nos devoram?
Já não é o mesmo, a separação, o amor, não
a primeira tarde foi a última foi
depois desta, olha o coração como vai
por estas verdades aprendido, futuro, uma
vez só que seja deixa-me eu tocar-te,
eu escondo a cara, eu não digo nada,
eu digo-te devagar uma história para tu
dormires, eu vou já contigo tomar
uma bica, uma cerveja, o que tu quiseres.
Joaquim Manuel Magalhães
- se o mesmo, não, amar é separar.
Por mais longe que um homem ande
quem o amou anda com ele, não,
o que nós temos tem este terror
e os anos pelo meio? as outras
horas que outros nos devoram?
Já não é o mesmo, a separação, o amor, não
a primeira tarde foi a última foi
depois desta, olha o coração como vai
por estas verdades aprendido, futuro, uma
vez só que seja deixa-me eu tocar-te,
eu escondo a cara, eu não digo nada,
eu digo-te devagar uma história para tu
dormires, eu vou já contigo tomar
uma bica, uma cerveja, o que tu quiseres.
Joaquim Manuel Magalhães
a couple of ruins
1.
O what a physical effect it has on me
To dive forever into the light blue sea
Of your acquaintance! Ah, but dearest friends,
Like forms, are finished, as life has ends! Still,
It is beautiful, when October
Is over, and February is over,
To sit in the starch of my shirt, and to dream of your sweet
Ways! As if the world were a taxi, you enter it, then
Reply (to no one), “Let’s go five or six blocks.”
Isn’t the blue stream that runs past you a translation from the Russian?
Aren’t my eyes bigger than love?
Isn’t this history, and aren’t we a couple of ruins?
Is Carthage Pompeii? is the pillow the bed? is the sun
What glues our heads together? O midnight! O midnight!
Is love what we are,
Or has happiness come to me in a private car
That’s so very small I’m amazed to see it there?
2.
We walk through the park in the sun, and you say, “There’s a spider
Of shadow touching the bench, when morning’s begun.” I love you.
I love you fame I love you raining sun I love you cigarettes I love you love
I love you daggers I love smiles daggers and symbolism.
3.
Inside the symposium of your sweetest look’s
Sunflower awning by the nurse-faced chrysanthemums childhood
Again represents a summer spent sticking knives into porcelain raspberries, when China’s
Still a country! Oh, King Edward abdicated years later, that’s
Exactly when. If you were seventy thousand years old, and I were a pill,
I know I could cure your headache, like playing baseball in drinking-water, as baskets
Of towels sweetly touch the bathroom floor! O benches of nothing
Appear and reappear—electricity! I’d love to be how
You are, as if
The world were new, and the selves were blue
Which we don
Until it’s dawn,
Until evening puts on
The gray hooded selves and the light brown selves of . . .
Water! your tear-colored nail polish
Kisses me! and the lumberyard seems new
As a calm
On the sea, where, like pigeons,
I feel so mutated, sad, so breezed, so revivified, and still so unabdicated—
Not like an edge of land coming over the sea!
Kenneth Koch
O what a physical effect it has on me
To dive forever into the light blue sea
Of your acquaintance! Ah, but dearest friends,
Like forms, are finished, as life has ends! Still,
It is beautiful, when October
Is over, and February is over,
To sit in the starch of my shirt, and to dream of your sweet
Ways! As if the world were a taxi, you enter it, then
Reply (to no one), “Let’s go five or six blocks.”
Isn’t the blue stream that runs past you a translation from the Russian?
Aren’t my eyes bigger than love?
Isn’t this history, and aren’t we a couple of ruins?
Is Carthage Pompeii? is the pillow the bed? is the sun
What glues our heads together? O midnight! O midnight!
Is love what we are,
Or has happiness come to me in a private car
That’s so very small I’m amazed to see it there?
2.
We walk through the park in the sun, and you say, “There’s a spider
Of shadow touching the bench, when morning’s begun.” I love you.
I love you fame I love you raining sun I love you cigarettes I love you love
I love you daggers I love smiles daggers and symbolism.
3.
Inside the symposium of your sweetest look’s
Sunflower awning by the nurse-faced chrysanthemums childhood
Again represents a summer spent sticking knives into porcelain raspberries, when China’s
Still a country! Oh, King Edward abdicated years later, that’s
Exactly when. If you were seventy thousand years old, and I were a pill,
I know I could cure your headache, like playing baseball in drinking-water, as baskets
Of towels sweetly touch the bathroom floor! O benches of nothing
Appear and reappear—electricity! I’d love to be how
You are, as if
The world were new, and the selves were blue
Which we don
Until it’s dawn,
Until evening puts on
The gray hooded selves and the light brown selves of . . .
Water! your tear-colored nail polish
Kisses me! and the lumberyard seems new
As a calm
On the sea, where, like pigeons,
I feel so mutated, sad, so breezed, so revivified, and still so unabdicated—
Not like an edge of land coming over the sea!
Kenneth Koch
só no teu rosto
Devias estar aqui rente aos meus lábios
para dividir contigo esta amargura
dos meus dias partidos um a um
- Eu vi a terra limpa no teu rosto,
Só no teu rosto e nunca em mais nenhum
Eugénio de Andrade
para dividir contigo esta amargura
dos meus dias partidos um a um
- Eu vi a terra limpa no teu rosto,
Só no teu rosto e nunca em mais nenhum
Eugénio de Andrade
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