ISSN 2359-4101

Brazilian Literature in Translation / Literatura Brasileña en Traducción

Issue / Numero

year/año: 2012
issue/numero: # 06



The Poet Boy


Author | Autor: Henriqueta Lisboa


Translated by Nelson Cruz | Translated by Hélcio Veiga Costa



Echo


Green parrot

let out a shrill scream.

Rock in sudden

anger, replied.


A great uproar

invaded the forest.

Thousands of parrots

screamed together

and rock echoed.


From all sides

strafing space

steely screams rained

and rained down.


Very piercing screams!


But no one died.



Old Little Ox


Little ox of tired eyes

longing-eyed little ox

resting on folded legs

at a bend of the way.


The carts climbing the hill

(now little ox remembers)

squeaked — or was it a weeping?



The Four Winds


North wind

South wind

West wind

East wind.


Four barebacked

horses.

Four horses

with long manes,

with long tails,

avid nostrils

snorting in the air.


Four horses

which nobody tames

four horses

that come and go,

that never rest,

their wings and hooves

sweeping the skies.


Ownerless horses

without a motherland,

gypsy horses

lawless and masterless.


Four barebacked horses.



Time is a Thread


Time is a quite

frail thread.

A slender thread

that easily slips away.


Time is a thread.

Weave! Weave!

Bobbin laces

with gentleness

with a greater zeal

thick branches.

Knittings and nets

with more shrewdness.


Time is a thread

wich is worth so much.

Thick crowns

bear fruit.

Knittings and nets

catch fish.


Time is a thread

through fingers.

The thread slips

time is wasted.


There time goes

like a rag

thrown away at random!


But it is still time!


Free the colts

to the four winds,

send the serfs

from one pole to another,

surmount scarps,

sleep in the bushes,

come back with time

that has gone by!...






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