BANDEIRA, Manuel
Naked
When you are dressed,
Nobody imagines
The worlds hidden
Under your clothes.
(Thus, in the day light,
We do not have notion
Of the stars that shine
In the deep sky.
But naked is the night
And naked in the night,
Vibrate your worlds
And the worlds of the night.
Your knees shine.
Your navel shines,
Shines all your
Abdominal lyre.
Your exiguous bosoms
- As two small fruits
in the firmness
Of your firm torso
- Your bosom shines)
Ah! Your hard nipples!
Your back!
Your flanks!
Ah, your shoulders!
When naked, your eyes
Become naked also:
Your gaze lingers longer,
Slower, more liquid.
Then, within those eyes,
I float, swim, jump,
Lower in a perpendicular
Diving!
I dive to the depths
Of your being, there where
Your soul smiles at me,
Naked, naked, naked.
Anthology
Life
Is not worth the trouble and grief of being lived.
Bodies understand each other, but souls, no.
The only thing to do is to play an Argentine tango.
I'm going away to Pasárgada!
I am not happy here.
I want to forget it all:
— The grief of being a man. . .
This infinite and vain anxiety
To possess what possesses me.
I want to rest
Thinking humbly about life and women I loved . . .
About all the life that could have been and wasn't.
I want to rest.
To die.
To die, body and soul.
Completely.
(Every morning the airport across the way gives me lessons
in departure.)
When the Undesired-of-all arrives,
She will find the field plowed, the house clean,
The table set,
With everything in its place.
Translated by Jean R. Longland
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Oh, as três mulheres do sabonete Araxá às 4 horas da tarde! O meu reino pelas três mulheres do sabonete Araxá! Que outros, não eu, a pedra cortem Para brutais vos adorarem, Ó brancaranas azedas, Mulatas cor da lua vem saindo cor de prata Ou celestes africanas: Que eu vivo, padeço e morro só pelas três mulheres do sabonete Araxá! São amigas, são irmãs, são amantes as três mulheres do sabonete Araxá? São prostitutas, são declamadoras, são acrobatas? São as três Marias? Meu Deus, serão as três Marias? A mais nua é doirada borboleta. Se a segunda casasse, eu ficava safado da vida, dava pra beber e nunca mais telefonava. Mas se a terceira morresse...Oh, então, nunca mais a minha vida outrora teria sido um festim!Se me perguntassem: queres ser estrela? queres ser rei? queres uma ilha no Pacífico? Um bangalô em Copacabana? Eu responderia: Não quero nada disso, tetrarca. Eu só quero as três mulheres do sabonete Araxá:
O meu reino pelas três mulheres do sabonete Araxá!
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troebleren, hypnotiseren me O, de drie vrouwen van de Araxa Zeep Om vier uur ’s middags
Mijn koninkrijk voor de drie vrouwen van de Araxa zeep!
Om te aanbidden, de hartelozen De bittere bleekhuidigen De zilveren, maankleurige mulattinnen De hemelse Afrikaansen Ik leef, lijd en sterf alleen
voor de drie vrouwen van de Araxa zeep
de drie vrouwen van de Araxa zeep?
Zijn zij de drie Maria’s?
De naakste is een vergulde vlinder. Als de tweede zou trouwen zou ik verloederen, aan de drank raken en nooit meer, nooit meer telefoneren maar als de derde zou sterven o dan zou mijn leven nooit meer vroeger
een festijn geweest zijn.
Een koning, Wil je een eiland in de Stille Oceaan? Een droomhuis in Copacabana?’ Ik zou zeggen: ‘Niets van dat alles wil ik Heer.
Ik wil alleen de drie vrouwen van de Araxa zeep.’
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Song of the Wind and my Life
The wind swept away the leaves
The wind swept away the fruits
The wind swept away the flowers
And still my life was left
Fuller than ever
Of flowers fruits and leaves.
The wind swept away the lights
The wind swept away the music
The wind swept away the perfumes
And still my life was left
Fuller than ever
Of perfumes star and songs.
The wind swept away my dreams
And swept away too my friends…
The wind swept away my women…
And still my life was left
Fuller than ever
Of loves and women.
The wind swept away the months
And swept away too your similes…
The wind swept all away!
And still my life was left
Fuller than ever
Of everything.
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- Lá sou amigo do rei –
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There I am friend of the king There I have the woman I want On the bed that I shall choose
I am going away to Pasargada.
Here I am not happy There life is an adventure I such a non-mattering way That Joan the Mad Woman of pain Queen and pretended insane Is relative once removed
From the daughter-in-law I never had.
I will pedal my bicycle! I will ride the wild ass! I will climb the greased pole! I will bathe in the sea! And when I am tired I will lie on the banks of the river And call the nymph of the water To tell me the stories That Rose used to tell me When I was a boy
I am going away to Pasargada.
It´s another civilization: It has s safe and sure way To prevent knocking the girls up It has automatic telephone It has plenty of dope It has beautiful prostitutes
For one to make love to.
So sad that I have no more hope And when in the night it comes: The desire to kill myself — Ah, there I am friend of the king — Then I have the woman I want On the bed that I shall choose
I am going away to Pasargada.
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The man who were in the café Tipped their hats oh, so mechanically In perfunctory and absent-minded salute to the dead For they themselves were all turned toward life They were swallowed up in life.
They were relying upon life.
In the long and slow arc of a gesture And stared at he hearse: For this man knew that life is a fierce and simless agitation That life is a treason And he paid his respects to the flesh which passed by
Forever freed from the dead soul.
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Vertaling:
August WILLEMSEN
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Na noite de São João Havia alegria e rumor Estrondos de bombas luzes de Bengala Vozes cantigas e risos
Ao pé das fogueiras acesas.
Não ouvi mais vozes nem risos Apenas balões Passavam errantes Silenciosamente Apenas de vez em quando O ruido de um bonde Cortava o silêncio Como um túnel. Onde estavam os que há pouco Dançavam Cantavam E riam
Ao pé das fogueiras acesas?
Estavam todos deitados Dormindo
Profundamente.
Não pude ver o fim da festa de São João Porque adormeci Hoje não ouço mais as vozes daquêle tempo Minha avó Meu avô Totônio Rodrigues Tomásia Rosa
Onde estão êles?
Estão todos deitados Dormindo
Profundamente
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On the Eve of São João There was still a hum of noise and joy Fizzing rockets Catherine wheels Voices singing laughter
Around the blazing fires.
To no more voices no more laughter Only sky lanterns Drifting Silently Only now and then The clatter of a tram Cutting through the silence Like a tunnel. Where were they, those who were so lately Dancing Singing And laughing
Around the blazing fires?
They were all resting Sleeping
Deeply.
I missed the end of the party Because I fell asleep Today the voices of those days are gone My grandmother My grandfather Totônio Rodrigues Tomásia Rosa
Where are they now?
They are all resting Sleeping
Deeply
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