Inner Babel / Babel Interior

Once upon a time there was a fish who wished to live out of the sea. It admired the birds flying in the skies and dreamt. "One should accept what is possible" said the other fish. Still, it dreamt, with its big fish eyes. It spent the days observing the interesting forms of those other creatures to whom it had been offered the greatest prize, the skies. One day, the sun was shining on the water, in thousands of little silver pieces and the fish, almost on the surface, longing for what it did not have, saw one of the creatures cross its limits, diving in high speed and returning fast into the blue sky. "Oh! how unfair!" Why could that creature have so much? Why would I have so little? No, it would no longer conform with that, it would no more accept such limitations.  It thought the whole night, with its fish brain and, in the new morning, it swam to the pier. It used all its strength and leaped. For one second, it contemplated the sky without the distortion of ...

O nó do sapato da garganta O aperto  da gravata das correntes do peito O gosto amargo  Sobe Desce  Chega à boca A multidão O riso O choro  Só O nó Até o retorno ao pó

Era uma vez um peixe que desejava viver fora do mar. Admirava os pássaros que voavam no céu e sonhava. "É preciso se conformar com o possível", diziam  os outros peixes. Mesmo assim, ele sonhava, com seus grandes olhos de peixe. Passava os dias a observar as interessantes formas daquelas outras criaturas a quem havia sido oferecido o maior prêmio, os céus.  Um dia, o sol brilhava na água, em mil pedacinhos prateados, e ele,  quase na superfície, desejando o que não tinha, viu uma das criaturas atravessar o seu limite, mergulhando com velocidade e retornando ao azul do céu, com rapidez. "Ah, quão injusto!" Por que podia aquele ser ter tanto? E ele tão pouco? Não, não mais se conformaria, não mais aceitaria tamanha limitação.  Pensou a noite toda, com seu cérebro de peixe, e na nova manhã, nadou até o pier. Usou de todas as suas forças e saltou.  Por um segundo contemplou o céu sem a distorção do meio aquoso: "Realmente belo!" E debateu-se, arfou, s...

You don't have to read me But if you love me Do To read me is to know me To face me To look into my eyes To read me is to regard me to contemplate me You don't have to read me But if you love me Do

Not very hopeful Not very young  Not gleaming Not contemplating future brightness Half the path walked Useless beating around the bush Much audacity  Frustration Insignificance of ideas Nonrealization of dreams  Mediocrity of words And feelings The impertinent permanence of the moving world Oceans Masses of water separating masses of land And people The efemerity of people Waves revolving sand Leaves swaying in the wind Bright days Dark nights Fallen stars All that remains Once you're gone

http://revistaorobo.blogspot.com/2014/10/dois-microcontos-de-lorena-santos.html?m=1

She was there in the morning I saw her on my way Surrounded by a vastitude of green, there she was A single closed bud "How brave of her to come out all alone" were my thoughts as I walked Afternoon, Once again I passed by T here she was One might think she'd feel lonely But alone,  s he bloomed And in bloom she remained At the end of the day,  I saw her one more time Sitting there in the greenery, In no less than it was planned,  In no less than she deserved,  In the magnificent splendor of a bud  that, alone, decided to bloom.

Hoje é dia do nascimento de Cecília Meireles, uma de nossas grandes poetas brasileiras. Então, em sua homenagem, vai aí um poema dela que me toca e a minha humilde tradução para o inglês para que outros o conheçam. / Today is the date of the birth of one of Brazil's great poets, Cecília Meireles. So, in her honor I share one of her poems that touch me and my humble translation of it to English so that others get to know it. Retrato       Cecília Meireles Eu não tinha este rosto de hoje, assim calmo, assim triste, assim magro, nem estes olhos tão vazios, nem o lábio amargo. Eu não tinha estas mãos sem força, tão paradas e frias e mortas; eu não tinha este coração que nem se mostra. Eu não dei por esta mudança, tão simples, tão certa, tão fácil: - Em que espelho ficou perdida a minha face? Portrait        Cecília Meireles        Translated by Lorena S. Santos I did not have this face of today, So calm, so sad,...

I heard your voice.  It called my name. I heard it!  Nor here, nor there,  Neither me, nor the voice. I heard it!  Voice of all answers.  To whom all questions are directed.  I heard the voice!  Stay, I asked!  Say more, I begged!  Silence... silence... Gone.  The voice that returns no more

Ouvi sua voz. Chamou meu nome. Ouvi!  Nem aqui, nem ali, Nem eu, nem a voz. Ouvi!  Voz de todas as respostas,  Para onde rumam todas as perguntas.  Ouvi a voz!  Fique, pedi!  Fale mais, implorei!  Silêncio... silêncio... Foi-se. A voz que não volta mais. 

http://revistaorobo.blogspot.com/2014/10/dois-microcontos-de-lorena-santos.html?m=1

Schopenhauer says to live is to climb a mountain and when you see what is waiting for you on the other side of the mountain too early in life, you can never climb it the same way. I saw what was on the other side and decided I was simply not climbing that mountain anymore, unless pushed the way up. You wouldn’t realize that just by looking at me then. You wouldn’t see that I had quit. I would wake up, take showers, eat (actually there would be a lot of eating), go to work, do whatever obligation I was supposed to. I would even go out with friends or family. But if you looked really closer, you would realize I was only automatically responding to demands, except for the food. Food became my only source of pleasure. How was all the rest performed? At work, if there were tasks and deadlines, I’d do them, using no more than the basic skills required.   As to my social life, it rested on the plans of others. They would say when and where to go. They would pick me up and bring me ho...

Parcos sorrisos Pequenos gestos  dão preguiça Os menores esforços  exasperam A luminosidade  amarela-azul  Cega Atordoa Eu sigo  Gris

You, Who relish your false beliefs Hiding behind the crucifix Disguised i n the compassion towards human kind,  You,  Who look at others With starving eyes And push them away  When they draw near You, Who linger on frustration, Remaining static,  No ambition, no movement Know you're cursed,  Know you're doomed You will never find such passion, Never exert the power  You so strongly hold on to In cowardness and weakness  You shall drown Shrink  So small,  so diminute Until you mean Close to nothing  Until you are just a grain,  A speckle, an  insignificant fragment   of the profound love you once retained

O que fazer pra ser feliz? Pular de bota em água de poça? Dançar na rua cantando uma canção?   Assistir filme, comer pipoca? Esquecer da solidão tomando vinho? Comendo macarrão? O que fazer pra ser feliz? Jogar tudo para o alto e começar de novo? Passar a vida comendo arroz com ovo? Insistir no mesmo, repetir os gestos, os ritos, os pensamentos? E será que isso dá algum alento? O que fazer pra ser feliz? Fingir que é bom, altruísta, generoso? Convence o espelho? Não fica mesmo nem vermelho? O que fazer pra ser feliz? Ganhar dinheiro? Comprar mansão, iate, carro importado? E faz o que, depois que compra? Fica feliz? Quanto dura ser feliz? O que fazer para ser feliz? Encontrar o par? Junto ficar? Aguentar o bom e o ruim? O bom é fácil. O ruim.? É de lascar! O que fazer pra ser feliz? Seguir paixões? Uma por uma? Viver   todas conforme o vento? Seguir a correnteza? Mas e o ruim? Porque ele vem. Pai...

When I had faith I contemplated the stars with dreamy eyes. I  waited weeks for a letter that would save my life or kill me instantly.  I  believed in  love songs and wedding gowns.  I  went to the theater and watched movies as messages sent from the Gods.  When I had faith I believed pregnancies bore no pain.  I believed in doctors and medicine. I believed babies never died and mothers were always alive.  I believed in Justice, not men's justice, but God's.  The first, I truly never believed.  I believed good poetry could come out of sunshine, flowers and blue skies.  I believed you always knew why and when you lied.  I believed in moonlight.  I believed in rhyme, when I had faith.  Now, most of it is ever gone.  Most of it is lost in time.  But the rhyme, the stars, the love songs, the Sun, the sky.  Well, perhaps, just perhaps, I still might. 

Because by looking  at you I made you more beautiful. You did not know who you were before you saw me.  The light you shine now emanates from the love I once felt for you,  a star long dead gleam traveling through the universe.  You might walk around without me,  But I'm there.  In the proud stroll, in the intense stare,  In the careless movement of head and hands,  In the shaping of a smile,  In the sound of  laughter and in passionate cries,  I'm there.  You might forget, so I'm telling you!  Beware!  I am there! 

Mãos dadas Luz de fim de tarde Ressaca de clube de jogos de risos Corpos preguiçosos queimados de sol cheirando a banho tomado Caminham nas ruas sem rumo A música Fácil A música Demais Adolescer Indolecer O desejo O beijo A língua O arrepio Corpos Jovens corpos O calor A casquinha O sorvete O prazer A juventude O crescer E as mãos? Unidas As mãos Que são Mãos Dadas

Thoughts hurt Writing cuts the skin deep Let it bleed  Run through the paper Drip its drops of dos and don'ts A scar stays Too new Too recent Too soon  A sharp movement will burst the wound   Fill the world  With words of sorrow Flood the world With cries of pain

Once Eyes embraced When feeble were words Eyes were deep A turbulent ocean  Sucked me deep  Eyes that caressed Eyes that undressed ... Shy eyes Furtive looks Yet, deep intimacy Stay on  Shy eyes Stay on ... Eyes Wide open Capturing movement Seeing silence and sound Measuring immeasurable danger in the blink of an eye

Ficou lá, em pé, nas pedras, contemplando o oceano. Esse oceano que tocou tantas praias, onde tantos sonhos foram sonhados, em tantas diferentes línguas. Esse oceano ao qual se sentiu tão ligado, seu parceiro de outras vidas, tão familiar, tão misterioso. Para ele, desconhecido. Lá permaneceu, parado, olhando fixamente, observando as rítmicas idas e vindas. Sentia-se atraído por sua intensidade, pelo movimento das ondas. Tentava entender o porquê. Ouvia atentamente seus sons. Imaginava o prazer de sentir-se coberto por suas águas, sentindo sua temperatura, subermergindo em sua profundidade, deixando seu corpo ser carregado pelas correntes. Podia adivinhar as correntes, profundas correntes. Nadadores enfrentavam tais correntes. Ele já vira. Mergulhando das pedras, eles se jogavam. Com suas primeiras braçadas furiosas, confrontavam as marés, domavam as correntes. Voltavam exaustos, sem fôlego e extasiados. Mas ele não era nadador. Vinha contemplando esse oceano ...

He stood there, o n the rocks, c ontemplating the ocean. This  ocean that had touched so many shores, where so many dreams were dreamt, in so many different languages.  This ocean to which he felt so connected,  his partner from other lives,   so familiar,  y et mysterious.  To him, unknown.  He remained there, standing, staring,  observing the rythmic comings and goings.  He was drawn to it by its intensity, the movement of the waves.  He tried to understand why.  He listened attentively to its sounds. He imagined the pleasure of being covered by its water, feeling  its temperature, s ubmerging in its depth, allowing  his body to be carried by its currents.  He could guess there were currents, d eep  currents. Swimmers faced such currents.  He had seen them. Diving  from the rocks, they took the leap.  With t heir furious first strokes,  they confronted t...

Oh, she insisted, begged, pleaded Yet, no interest, no reply After, no explanation needed No justification could apply It was all there in the cold stare In the blank expression of the face No other moment can compare To when alone you fall in space She closed her eyes and heart and soul She began falling Ever slow And I can hear her, though afar Amidst life and its demands Her cry for dreams that never are

You should take it, my friend Your chance given by the universe  Go back to the beginning You had no past, y ou were free You should take it, my friend Though weary eyes look at me  While fine lines crawl up your face And  silver rays  shine through your hair Just return to that place Oh, go back to that time Peaceful you'd fall into slumber  Resting i n the arms of your lover And the dreams you had were a highway of stars Where you both could run free at the speed of the sound

Um pouquinho Um pedacinho Um micro fragmento  Um caquinho Uma migalha A porção infinitesimal do que há Do que vive Aqui  Dentro Em mim

A little A bit A micro fragment A tiny chip A crumb The infinitesimal portion of all there is Of what lives  Here Inside Of me

Life goes on Luminous Blue Morning of May  The Sun Its Warmth A Cold Light Breeze Smiles  Simpathy And the walk ... Inside,  Dark night The absence,  The fear Inside,  A black hole Impossible Fulfilling Inside, The tightening In the chest, The emptiness Out,  Blue, The morning of May

A vida segue  Luminosa Manhã de maio  Azul Sol  Quente Leve brisa  Fria  Sorrisos  Simpatia E o caminhar... Dentro,  Noite escura A falta,  O medo Dentro,  Buraco negro Impossível  Preenchimento Dentro, O aperto  No peito, O vazio Fora,  A manhã, De maio, Azul

The world lives in me With all its colors and scents All its flavours It multiplies with every new sight, concept, insight, feeling, word Every time I love or cry,   Breath in and out It expands It amplifies This world The world that lives in me

De Piri Eu gosto Do quente do sol Do frio d as águas Das Pedras Dos Rios Das almas De Piri Eu gosto Calçadas Telhados Sobrados  Cerrados Doce Piri Gosto d'ocê

There is nothing to say That has not been said There is nothing to feel That has not been deeply doubly, overtly felt Spaces can't be crossed Time can't be filled And even the lies, the customary lies that make all better, cannot be told anymore.

  She got up and went to get a cup of coffee. “Damned headache!” Acute and deep, precise, the day ruined. -        -   As if a long, fine, pointy needle forced itself through my cranium, you know? A Chinese man with long mustache holding one point of the needle, manipulating it, pushing it very slowly. -        -   Why Chinese? Seriously, she could not believe it! A headache from Hell, dripping sweat after the coffee and that was the question? -        -   Why not? Is there a law against the Chinese? -       I was just asking! -        -   It’s my pain, isn’t it? If it’s Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, what is the difference? -        -   Forget it!    She regretted the rude reply, but did not apologize! Apologizing would require time, explanations, facing the Chinese man, pulling him by the mustache, immobilizin...