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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