piensa en mi

Hilda Hilst

Send me word, if you can,
"The moon is full, the house is clear."
Send me word, and paradise
Shall be nearer, and your uncertain face
Shall seem more recent.
Send for me if your day
Is as long as your night. If it's true
Without me you see nothing but monotony.
If you remember the gleam of tides
Some pale red fish
In certain seas
And my wet feet, send me word:
"It's a moonless night"
And dressed in light, I come to see you again.


---


I smile when I wonder
Where in your room
You keep my verse.
Away from your
Political books?
In the first drawer
Close to the window?
Do you smile when you read
Or are you tired of seeing
Such abandon
Amorous spark
On my ripened face?
Do I seem beautiful
Or am I to you, perhaps
Too much of a poet,
And not serious enough?
What does the man think
Of the poet? That there's no truth
In my drunkenness
And that you prefer
A friend more peaceful
And less adventurous?
That you simply cannot
Keep in your room
Worldly traces
Of my passionate words?
Do you see me as mad?
Do you see me as pure?
Do you see me as young?

Or is it true
That you never knew me?


(translated from the Portuguese by Beatriz Bastos)

Milk and honey

Landscape

"What is life but soft desires"*
but so is death.

The smell of earth
makes us love what is good to be loved

A burning log tells yet another story
someone was lying that there's no other
left to be told
where is the end
if no one was there?

We take over something
and make it better or worst
using watercolors
and words
the background
invisible
like the most secret thought

Poetry is my craddle
you write and I humm. I write and you sing
bending over when the powerfull sky passes

What is good to love?
the toenails of my kids
the May breeze
a kiss
a kiss
Li Po and Clarice
the stairs of my house
the blooming lilies
all living creatures in the nearby forest

the shoulders of the ocean
each goodbye that promise a return

the subtitles in my native language
clouds in a warm season

the last act of a drama
the dreamlike improvisations the twenty-eight Angels
and the mosaics of Venice
as painted by Klee

you
loving me

_______________________________________________
* the quoted verse - Alphra Behn (1640-1689)

still life with dove

în toate lucrările lui klee
lacrima e departe de ochi. izvorăște din altă parte
ochiul meu atât de aproape de ochiul tău.
un singur gând efemer le ține captive pe celelalte. au adunat
destul pentru un big party.
magenta un violet palid
sunt jumătate din umbra mea
undeva între furie și blândețe
mă înec în pieptul tău.
lichenii din inima mea îmi decorează trupul cu radiații.
dorința este forma poetică a celui mai ascuns gând
îi aduc ceai din plante și un scăunel confortabil.
adoarme

Nicola Porpora - Le limpid' onde

La multi ani, Oana!

" No one truly lives.  
My characters are my loss of sleep.  My homelessness. My fail.
I am a charlatan. I suppress them, I pity them. I leave them incomplete.
They become my everydayness.
My characters have no past, no future, no common sense. 
Their openness makes them shockingly rare.
I am the gaps between their words,
the Christmas lights when one of them is broke,
the lost and found...
It's the opening night.
My characters went looking for the dreamlike words,
and I am still alive."
(from the Literary Manifsto)

I could be happy