Gazing at this crimson sky,
— it seems a mirror —
Of the blood-soaked earth,
Spoils of that war…
And the rain is precipitated
It can hardly wait to fall…
Washing the soil,
like cleaning a sidewalk,
that dirties as it dries.
Adapted from:
Olhando, este céu vermelho
— parece espelho —
Do sangue desta terra,
Espólio dessa guerra…
E a chuva precipita-se,
Mal espera pra cair…
E lava o solo,
como quem lava a calçada,
que suja-se ao passo que seca.
Continuing the series of posts of translated poems. You can see the first of the series below:
Unlike before, I wrote this poem moments earlier today in Portuguese (inspiration can strike in any language, even as I focus on English) and immediately wanted to adapt it to English. Older portuguese poems will soon follow. I’m focusing now on new works.
In one second, it all falls down
Only then does it start to rise
Falling happens much faster
Inertia is only natural
Rising up requires intention
A freefall is something else
You wanted to board that plane
To skydive
To get your feet back on the ground
The original:
Um segundo e tudo cai
Só começa a se reerguer
Cair é bem mais rápido
Inércia é natural
Levantar requer intenção
Queda livre é diferente
Você quis pegar aquele avião
Saltar de paraquedas
Voltar os pés ao chão
Stay Tuned for the Next posts.
circumstantial nomad
automaton in the desert
while there is breath of wind
I tend to aim for a balance between literal translations and formal equivalence. In this case I can only say that both the original and its English version have cool distinctive free rhythms.
The original, in case you wonder:
Autômato
nômade circunstancial
autômato no deserto
enquanto há fôlego de vento
Reveries That I Call Poetry 