Poem by Iacyr Anderson Freitas
Translated from the Portuguese by Desirée Jung
Click here to download the text.
[for José Afrânio M. Duarte]
The only personal image:
that tree under the rain
impassive and hard.
white curtains advancing more and more
into the night, for two weeks
– no blue, nor ray
of light or fire.
Houses with anchors at the door edges.
Sludge, dirt, slime. The landscape
begins to change colors.
One barely guesses the nearby mountain.
A dense wall seals the view,
The waters draw the earth and the sky.
Now everything composes
What was a reality
Even topography bends
to the storm, unhurriedly.
Ignoring the despair,
only that tree.
Impassive in its metaphor, surrendered
to total condemnation:
to be in the rain, subjected,
averse to the sky and the land.
Poem published in The Immense Hour.