Amantes holding hands

Amantes

passo por esse casal de amantes
é como meter as mãos num balde de sardinhas
são tantas as mordidelas
estou ferida
não é mortal
passei por aquele casal de amantes
foi como meter num balde de sal
estraçalhadas
as mãos
são tantas as sardinhas
como corta o sol
nem meio gato à vista
como corta a luz
como corta o navio
são tantas as escamas
é como meter as mãos
são tantos os braços
nem meio gato
nem meia língua
nem meio mal
 

holding hands

i pass by these two lovers
it’s like holding my hands in a bucket of sardines
so many nips
i am wounded
it’s not mortal
passing by those two lovers
was like holding in a bucket of salt
my shredded hands
so many sardines
how the sun cuts
not even half a cat in sight
how the light cuts
how the boat cuts
so many scales
it’s like holding my hands 
so many arms 
not even half a cat
not even half a tongue
not even half bad 
 

Lovers [provisional title]

i pass by that couple of lovers
it’s like putting the [/my, your] hands in a bucket of sardines
the nibbles are so many
i am injured
it’s not mortal
i passed by that couple of lovers
it was like putting in a bucket of salt
shredded
the hands
the sardines are so many
like [/how] the sun cuts
not even half a cat in sight
like [/how] the light cuts
like [/how] the ship cuts
the scales are so many
it’s like putting the hands
the arms are so many
not even half a cat
not even half a tongue
not even half an ill [/evil, badly]
 

We introduced the idea of a title to this poem (the original is untitled) as a sort of response to the challenge set by Annie McDermott, the guest translator, who when corresponding with the poet had queried its lack of title in the original and been told to make up a new one for it. We felt that the wrong-footing of the image in the title might correspond to how we felt surprised and wrong-footed by the poem.

We were pleased with the final line, which in the Portuguese has a curious play. By modifying the familiar English phrase ‘not half bad’ with ‘even’ we hope to create the unease that the poem as a whole evoked for the group. At once flippant (‘so many nips’; ‘not even half a cat in sight’) and disturbing (‘my shredded / hands’).

Edward Doegar, Commissioning Editor

Original Poem by

Carla Diacov

Translated by

Annie McDermott with The Poetry Translation Workshop Language

Portuguese

Country

Brazil