sexta-feira, 17 de julho de 2009

Without end We will make poems - Part 2 / Lecy P S


Poemaremos sem fim

Without end We will make poems

Part 2

Woken sleepy in another part of the History
Loading the blemish of very modern
We will make poems praising any poets of the 1800s
Making crèche little cows made of biscuit
Evoking the dragon's rage of the knight Shiryu
Sitting on the Barbie doll
Paying attention to somebody on a reality show
Importuning a community of little ants
crossing the wall
Reading the Psalmos the Lusíadas The Decameron Tales
When we examinate the Book of the Dead and
the Bible of Cinema
When Jupiter will be in Mars and the moon in Pluto
Wearing perfumed condoms and pants samba-canção
Dissolving poets whom they want to be remembered
From now to thousand years into half glass of water
Aged into oak tonnels
We will make poems thinking is that good poet that
sleeps on our bed
That takes off poems from the rib from the foam of the sea
That eats the Good Hope Cape and picks the teeth
That farts making rhymes making a sonnet
That fucks and wakes up climbing a trapeze
We will make poems clothed by the lack of inspiration
Erectus insurrectus antipyretics
Convicted of that the world is so beautiful
And there is no virus accidents murders
Everybody write poems and they are so humble
The poets accept themselves and change kind letters
Santa Claus grant all of their wishes
Happiness is so great that we live crying
We will weave poems consuming and being consumed
Sure that somebody keep looking for our organs
That somebody will pull out us crying from the womb
That other somebody will care our bones
Then of us remaining a palid remembrance
in the memory of somebody who surpasses our end
In a tortuous poem that without wanting we write
Looking at a bonfire over the earth so ardent
Feeling the wind whistling on our face
Besides the dew over showy leaves burst out
We arise rarefied reinvented
In an imprecise cut of time
With having its veins burst
Externates our verbal overflow
Printed by laser or inkjet printer
But it is still not the end
Because we will make poems we will make poems
We will make poems we will make poems make poems

translation by Leonardo de Magalhaens

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