Crise

Por causa dos ilusionistas é que hoje em dia muita gente acredita que poesia é truque...

Mario Quintana - Sapato Florido, 1948.

quinta-feira, 11 de setembro de 2014

STILL LOST AFTER THE STORM*

 
Yes, my dear friend,
it has been very hard
to stay away from you; and for so long!

I almost don't know anymore
how is your true face and life like.

Neither do I know how much you love me;
if you truly still do.

Yes, my dear friend,
it has been very hard
to turn away from you; look at the nearest
mirror, hanging from a nail at a pale wall
of my living room of sorrows.

Yet and again, dreaming of quiet, happy old days
we spent so close that someone,
or almost everyone, would bet we're one.

Yes, my dear friend,
it has been very hard
to get to sleep, even on a pillow of clouds,
without listening to your voice;
begging for some more time:
just to be aside - on such an awesome silence!

Yet and again, I keep trying to follow
your footsteps while drowning
in the dust; shadows of my mind at dusk.

Yes my dear friend,
it has been very hard
to leave the trails I chose to myself,
at the moment I believed I would find you
after the storm: thought rain and the snow gone,
would allow our meeting - as the sun vanishes!

Yet and again, at the Endless Summer,
on the far horizon over the Atlantic Ocean,
no more rimes on my lips - nor a dime in my pocket.


*Jairo De Britto, in "English Poems"

 São Paulo, Capital - Brasil (17/Junho/2003)

[Painting  by  Christian Schloe]

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