For Lucy
hi lucy, you just cannot imagine how happy I was when I saw your comment again (not very awake, I have to admit, but still eager to see what you had to say...) gosh, I loved what you did lucy, I just feel SO flattered! I haven't really been in the net a lot these past few days (I got four tests, 2 on this week and twice on the coming week) so I'm basically studying, and studying, and...yeah, studying.
about the poem (poema) : I guess it would be a crime if I didn't translate it for you, not that it's the greatest thing in the world ( it certainly isn't) but the program you used didn't at all captivate the real message.
oh lucy, it would have been so much easier if you had come to portugal! my poem talks about the river Tejo, in Lisbon. I live ten minutes away from Lisbon, it's our capital city. it may be a poet's hearth thing, but I jost love the air, the sun and the atmosphere that surrounds Lisbon; the city is absolutely magical, I din't think that there are, tough, many people who understand why it's so magical. maybe you'll be able to, some day.
Lisboa is a city of old, I guess you can use that expression. it's located near tejo, of course, and near the atlantic ocean. the legend says it was founded by Homero's ulysses, but of course that must not be true. still, it existed even before the roman empire. it was then taken by the muslins, and then conquered by our first king, with the help of crusaders who were travelling to the holy land. so it has been here for some long time :)
why am I telling all of this? well, I guess I can understand it's probably a bit boring. but I'm telling you all of this so that you can, at least, try to feel and understand that, when you walk trough lisbon, you can sense it all: there's history in every street, smells in the air that have probably been around since forever. it is unique , for its history, geography, and what the hell more, really. and Tejo just makes it more romantic, in every aspect of the word. if I can«t really explain in portuguese, imagine my frustation now... :)
now, for the poem: it talks about the river tejo, of course, but I didn't want to make it a normal poem that talks about that type of stuff. how can I explain this...? you know those poets that write those very predictable hymns about cities, places and such, where they have been? well, I really didn't want my poem to be like those poems, I don't think there's any real beauty in them, really. and because I was paying a homage to the river,
I tought of doing somethig different, just to make it unique. that's why the atmosphere is almost noir (that's french, for dark ;) )
so... here it goes. it's nothing special, really, but I tought I'd post it here because I think no homage is enough when talking about the city I love.
Tejo
there are almost infinite stories being told
about this river who's greater than fear in
the glance filled of opaque blood
of those who always eternally doubt
; bigger than the imensity of my
glance over it,
because in barkings of yawns it can't
perspectivate them in all
the angles of vision when they say His
Name.
It burns in an imensity of
beliefs and tourists or even in the same
children who know what reality is better than me,
and who have the same name as
Alfama, or; Cais do Sodré or some Belém at more dead
hours in the day when
The World around it shreds itself in hot air in triumphant shouts
of coyotes. Its on your sight
that the loving ones with a infinity of
youth wich I cannot feel in me
rest. we're already too much old
,to recriate our existences, to regurgitate
the moral values that have made us a lot
more and a lot less than humans
In places that do not exist, and
in places that do not exist except
in tales and dreams, even if we are all there and
feel the smell of old rock and the
rugosity and harshness of the smells of the
Summer
And Water
.You're the blood of this city, one verse only of
water and boats wich are still ancient
Trawlers of pure adventures and
electricts of first loves
;perfect
stolen acid kisses, unworthy
convulsions of unworthy poets.
and the sun flashing
on the boats.
Tejo.
you're the fury for excessively smiling
and the misterious grin of this
unachiveable city.
well...and that's it. it becomes pretty eird in english really, beacuse I invent a bit words in portuguese and expressions wich are almost impossible to translate, really. alfama, cais do sodré an belém are parts o lisbon, and the elctric is a way of transportation wich i guess... exists in san francisco, I don't know. it's a poema bit different of my others, but what the hell. I promised you a post in engilsh, and...well, here it is, I guess.
thanks! keep coming, keep in touch, and I'll do the same lucy. and most important, I hope you like the poem :)
J.
posted by Navalha @ 1:30 da tarde
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