End of Decade

(translated from Portuguese)

 

31 December 2020
 Unborn moon of winter:
 There is no more I to summon you.
 I've passed through the oceanic waters of the continent
 And see you now
 – it is summer. 
  
 The beings who roam and vest
 Phrases and verbs and ecstasys
 Live, moon! Live!
 Like me. 
  
 The lakes of childhood erupt unsayable,
 I watch its drift in the shadow of a tomorrow,
 And I am, unsuspecting of what is in me
 Son of the humans
 And days. 
  
 Take me, take me away
 To the tomorrow who made me. 
 But let me savour the moments,
 The love of my mother, the smallest gestures,
 The embraces of my sister 
 Who understands, disunderstands,
 And has a whole life yet for understanding.
  
 The stars are white roses
 Solid impermanences of a garden: 
 The sky is abloom this evening
 Clouds pass with the wind,
 The planets originate: time-roots
 And the galaxy is a fertile earth. 
 In this chime recurring
 Time is-you, moon,
 And is too, but so very little
 In me. 
  
 The other animals see, 
 Understand me: know. 
 The cats give refuge to the eyes as sphinxes,
 Dogs apprehend the evening with a howl.
 Our infants, newly-born
 Umbilical livings and bones,
 Watch us with eyes dampened;
 The indecent comprehension that is-us
 Before. 
  
 I am afraid of the truth; 
 I am afraid of the truth that is,
 And afraid of the truth that is in others.
 For I look around to understand the instant
 And between the second and the minute,
 The chair which sits me and the clothes I drag
 Only eternity is mother to some meaning; 
 It is midnight. 
  
 I will birth things beautiful!
 I will birth things foolish: 
 I have to be, but I know not what
 And am afraid of what I am. 
 I walk the streets and eat potatoes for dinner. 
  
 And the future which is-us: in reverse? 
 The big bang was no beginning,
 Ah, nothing ever began.
 The instant originates itself
 And death is yet another origin
 Bloomful, sprouting, trembling world:
 Give birth in me.
  
 As to the body: 
 I am no fool, so I relish.
 Savour in the banquets of days
 Going to bed with strangers,
 To watch over death in life
 And the corporeal which still finds me young. 
  
 I write
 Diffused, I bear but confusion
 And feel, eternity in the moment's dwell,
 Having but one I to serenade,
 Create the ethereal 
 For calendaric days.
  
 Tomorrow the decade ends!
 Tomorrow the sun will rise the same
 Tomorrow is yesterday, my God,
 Tomorrow is yesterday. 
  
 Like a starving animal
 I will eat dead calendars
 I will chew clocks bleeding
 I will make of my life a life, singular
 Break the covenant
 We had made,
 This embassy under the skies. 
 I know all has passed,
 I know all is passing, 
 And I even know that the future is uncertain,
 Yet neither for this reason has not been. 
 Ah, leave me! I am mere man 
 And even that is broken. 
 Yet the air returns to re-member:
 Yes, maybe for the skies too
 The earth is a distant dream.
  
 I give you words, I give you because it is all I have
 I give you because it is all we have, 
 What reveals and divides
 The I from the you. 
 The word I is a mere appendix,
 The word I is a grammatical error.
 The word I is a truth
 Amongst the many,
 And the others which I can create 
 Watching
 The fleeting touch of a keyboard or pen
 [yes! this century is technological and fills me with love and nausea].
 Words are pixels,
 Words are points.
 Words are tender coverings over what wants to be said
 Silent to the sound of the instant's infinite
 And I have not yet learned to speak.
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