Cartão-postal sem fôlego Breathless Postcard

Cartão-postal sem fôlego

A natureza não cuida de nada
nem olha pra trás.
Pára-raios e paraísos
e todos os verbos no infinito.
Morro
dentro da paisagem
onde as estações passam
nos relógios ao relento.
Pelas janelas do trem
ao tempo
bruscos recortes rápidos
arrancados pela raiz do ar livre:
o que a lua tira da pedra
pedaços de céu e mar
montanhas, ah! além e alheias
folhas rasgadas, deve & haver o quê?
E em qual caderno?
 

Breathless Postcard

Nature doesn't nurture anything
it never looks back
parasols and paradise
and every verb in the infinite
I die
within a landscape
where stations pass
by clocks fixed in the open
From the windows of a train
through time
brusque cuts quick
plucked by the root from plain air:
what the moon pulls from the stone
pieces of sky and sea
mountains, ah! Beyond and indifferent
torn leaves, thou shall & shall not what?
And in which notebook?
 

Breathless Postcard

Nature doesn't take care of anything
doesn't even look back
Lightning rods and paradises
and every verb in the infinite.       [wordplay = infinite - infinitive]
I die
inside the landscape
where seasons pass
by the clocks out in the open.
From the train's windows
to time
brusque cuts quick
plucked by the root from the open air:
what the moon takes from the stone
pieces of sky and sea
mountains, ah! Beyond and alien
torn leaves, must & have what?
And in which notebook?
 

Armando Freitas Filho has a wonderful ability to capture transient, almost inobservable moments in motion. Here, the first part of this poem describes the absolute indifference of nature viewed from the window of a speeding train, the station clocks ‘fixed in the open’ as the vehicle speeds past.

We had a long discussion about the line ‘Pára-raios e paraísos’ – lightning rods and paradise’ in Francisco’s literal version. We rejected ‘lightning rods’ (lightning conductors) going instead for the word play of ‘parasols and paradise’ which, although not quite as strong a contrast, gets across the idea of protection against the sun. Not perfect, but translation is all about compromise.

A meditation on transience, the poem ends with the question of – in the literal version of the Portuguese – ‘must & have’ a phrase that sounds like a religious imperative, which is why we translated it as the Biblical-sounding, ‘thou shall & shall not’.

Sarah Maguire, Workshop Facilitator

Original Poem by

Armando Freitas Filho

Translated by

Francisco Vilhena with The Poetry Translation Workshop Language

Portuguese

Country

Brazil