Residue
–Carlos Drummond de Andrade
Translation
Resíduo
Photo by Xavi Cabrera on Unsplash
Feeling of the World
–Carlos Drummond de AndradeI have just two hands
And the feeling of the world,
But I am teeming with slaves,
my memories are streaming
and my body yields
at the crossroads of love.When I get up, the sky
will be dead and plundered,
I’ll be dead myself,
my desire and the songless
swamp dead.My comrades didn’t tell me
that a war was on
and I needed
To bring arms and food.
I feel scattered,
before the borders,
and I humbly beseech
your pardon.When the bodies pass
I’ll remain alone
unraveling the memory
of the herald, the widow and the microscope man
who lived in the tent
and were missing
the next morningthat morning, more night than night itself.
Translation
Sentimiento do mundo
Tenho apenas duas mãos
e o sentimento do mundo,
mas estou cheio de escravos,
minhas lembranças escorrem
e o corpo transige
na confluência do amor.
Quando me levantar, o céu
estará morto e saqueado,
eu mesmo estarei morto,
morto meu desejo, morto
o pântano sem acordes.
Os camaradas não disseram
que havia uma guerra
e era necessário
trazer fogo e alimento.
Sinto-me disperso,
anterior a fronteiras,
humildemente vos peço
que me perdoeis.
Quando os corpos passarem,
eu ficarei sozinho
desfiando a recordação
do sineiro, da viúva e do microscopista
que habitavam a barraca
e não foram encontrados
ao amanhecer esse amanhecer
mais noite que a noite.
The Time of Love
–Carlos Drummond de Andrade
Translation
Amor e seu tempo
Photo by Pierre Bamin on Unsplash
The Infernal Powers
–Carlos Drummond de Andrade
Translation
Os poderes infernais
Photo by Philipp Pilz on Unsplash
The Body’s Contradictions
–Carlos Drummond de Andrade
Translation
As contradições do corpo
Photo by sippakorn yamkasikorn on Unsplash
The End of the World
–João Cabral de Melo Neto
Original
O fim do mundo
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash
Night and the House
–Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen
Night reunites the house and its silence
From the foundations up
To the still flower
Only the ticking of time’s clock is heardNight reunites the house and its destiny
Now nothing is scattered nothing divided
Everything watches like the vigilant cypressEmptiness walks in its living spaces