ISSN 2359-4101

Brazilian Literature in Translation / Literatura Brasileña en Traducción

Issue / Numero

year/año: 2012
issue/numero: # 04



On the Art of Traps


Author | Autor: Ana Martins Marques


Translated by Julia Sanches

Chair

I.

Daily
you repeat
the gestures
of the first man
who sat here
on a warm afternoon
watching the savannah

II.

Perch
for gigantic weary
birds.

Hutch

It stores
and displays
the white
nudity
of dishes
the uneven
burning
of crystals.

Sprinkler

Forgotten
in a corner of the garden
ready, erect, the sprinkler
points at the sun

tangled on the inside
flowers, fast or slow,
flower
and finish.

Cliffs

Today was
a clear day
we walked and ate
in silence

we searched for the highest point
of the city and talked
about the house
that will never be built

we talked about that house
rooted in the cliffs
yawning towards
the screaming sea

we talked
about that house,
less likely everyday,
where neither of us will be

we walked back in silence
and I thought of those creatures
that only mate
with great difficulty.

The discovery of the world

I try to reach you
with words
with words
to know you

like one
who with a lamp and a map
hopes to undertake
the discovery of the world

I get up
I am alone in the dark
with both feet
on the cold cement

(where are you
in what I wrote?)

Photograph

I framed
a photo of you
here in this living room:
sitting in the red
armchair
you look up from your book
as if caught unaware

At that time of day
when the light slants
and the colors
fall into themselves
you look
like yourself.

Cinema

On the street we found
a row of chairs
from an old cinema
we took them home
set them on the porch
and spent all afternoon
drinking and smoking
watching just another day go by

Shipwreck

From inside the night
the city
ejects automobiles
sirens restless dogs
precocious roosters

in the distance
full of plants that are stones
that are flowers that are bugs
the sea batters
the shore

around the bed
as around a ship split in two
our clothes our cigarettes
our books drown
themselves in air

To a passerby

You are
what goes
by
and leaves
a trace
the place
magnetized
by the fact
that you
were
in it.

Us

And here
we are
me
pronoun
you
pronoun
instead
of us
(burning
I search for your body
but find only words:
these)





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