o não das coisas
Poems in English
Ilustrações e Capa
Wellington Mendes
Planejamento Gráfico
João Soares
Revisão
Conceição Paranhos
Rita Aragão Matos
Colaboração
Dilson Midlej
Luciano Paiva Nóbrega
Edição do Autor
Salvador, 1997
Estes
Isaias Carvalho (1997)
VI
O não das coisas
The no of things
(variações em inglês; versions in English)
Mask
Variação do poema “Máscara”.
My sleep recycles
of the day the disguised pain.
My dream fantasizes in freedom
What I couldn’t say.
Requiem
Variação do poema “Réquiem”.
The last muse died of old age,
of love,
in my arms, her last words:
“Centuries of wounds in my soul
kill me”.
Guilty I’m not,
I just staged profane Pietà
for the secular eyes
of many all poets!
Farewell, brave Erato,
rest in peace, in me,
your grave.
Itabaiana
Variação do poema homônimo.
The sun kisses
and dearly caresses a dewdrop
on a mango tree leaf.
What a lovely lonely dewdrop that is!
Fuligem Poética
New angel
Variação do poema “Anjo novo”.
Metropolis vampires,
here I am,
a new angel on fire
for you!
Apparently pure and innocent
until you feel
my inner essence.
Inverse conversion.
Nothingness
Variação do poema “Nada”.
Mine is the name
of all aborted,
seeds of no deeds.
I’m not in my name,
but in dead adjectives.
Shapeless abyss between the wonder
and the unspeakably lame.
My name is a moment
in the face of the ordinary,
an almost nothing
in the cosmic shame.
To a musician
Variação do poema “Epitáfio a um músico”.
Drops of music
fill the sea of my soul,
heaving its surface.
A god’s heartbeat is the rhythm
of the primal sounds in desire,
the face of nothingness.
Mother Earth,
the womb of our universe,
made me what is not
yet.
Shadows
Variação do poema “Pequenas almas”.
Drilling the ground of the being,
being the sun on my back,
I sowed the shadow.
Shy to light,
a doomful dark rose bloomed
to die when,
even for an instant,
illumination.
Nearby
lies philosophy,
in the quiet quietness of this pain.
Rest words,
these minute souls
mocking the world.
This
Versão do poema “Este”.
I see those who live for the women,
Those others for the men,
And many others
Living life in vain.
I see this myself born when,
To sleep mornings
And be a man
Later, while those who labor, rest
Then.
This myself who’s not tempted,
In the bizarre field of human deeds,
By any doing,
In the mysterious landscape of love,
By any easy feeling,
In the wild view of the universe,
By any safe ground.
In the concrete being of the objects in orgy,
Only the ineffable
Marching,
Carelessly.
Estes
(in)versos