Poem
Manuel de Freitas
HEILIGER TOD
It’s not an artistic photograph.If it were, I wouldn’t talk about it.
It’s me next to my grandfather.
I look happy and so does he,
both of us smiling, together beneath
a bougainvillea. His happiness,
simple enough, is that of a grandfather
with an old felt hat just sitting there.
My happiness is holding
in my hand a box of Nazi soldiers
who either killed or were killed,
obeying an innocent decision.
Do toy soldiers still exist?
Nowadays, children the same age
as me in that photograph
tote guns and kill
just like that, with no intermediaries,
no pretending, no playful insinuations.
Perhaps they’re right, I don’t know.
They’re surely more effective:
they kill instead of wanting to kill.
And we’ve always known that this arsenal
of dung called humanity is beautiful.
No one in the photograph has survived.
© Translation: 2007, Richard Zenith
HEILIGER TOD
HEILIGER TOD
Não é uma fotografia artística.Se fosse, não falaria dela.
Estou ao lado do meu avô,
pareço feliz e ele também,
encostados a sorrir debaixo
de uma buganvília. A alegria
dele é simples, muito de avô sentado
com chapéu de feltro antigo.
A minha, por sua vez, segura
na mão a caixa de soldados nazis
que matavam ou morriam,
obedecendo a uma inocente decisão.
Ainda existirão soldadinhos?
Agora, com a idade que
tenho na mesma fotografia,
pegam numa arma e matam
porque sim, dispensando intermediários,
simulacros, lúdicas insinuações.
terão talvez maior razão, não sei.
Têm, seguramente, uma eficácia maior:
matam em vez de quererem matar.
E é belo, sempre o soubemos,
este paiol de esterco chamado humanidade.
Ninguém, da fotografia, sobreviveu.
© 2003, Manuel de Freitas
From: Beau Séjour
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisboa
From: Beau Séjour
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisboa
Poems
Poems of Manuel de Freitas
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HEILIGER TOD
It’s not an artistic photograph.If it were, I wouldn’t talk about it.
It’s me next to my grandfather.
I look happy and so does he,
both of us smiling, together beneath
a bougainvillea. His happiness,
simple enough, is that of a grandfather
with an old felt hat just sitting there.
My happiness is holding
in my hand a box of Nazi soldiers
who either killed or were killed,
obeying an innocent decision.
Do toy soldiers still exist?
Nowadays, children the same age
as me in that photograph
tote guns and kill
just like that, with no intermediaries,
no pretending, no playful insinuations.
Perhaps they’re right, I don’t know.
They’re surely more effective:
they kill instead of wanting to kill.
And we’ve always known that this arsenal
of dung called humanity is beautiful.
No one in the photograph has survived.
© 2007, Richard Zenith
From: Beau Séjour
From: Beau Séjour
HEILIGER TOD
It’s not an artistic photograph.If it were, I wouldn’t talk about it.
It’s me next to my grandfather.
I look happy and so does he,
both of us smiling, together beneath
a bougainvillea. His happiness,
simple enough, is that of a grandfather
with an old felt hat just sitting there.
My happiness is holding
in my hand a box of Nazi soldiers
who either killed or were killed,
obeying an innocent decision.
Do toy soldiers still exist?
Nowadays, children the same age
as me in that photograph
tote guns and kill
just like that, with no intermediaries,
no pretending, no playful insinuations.
Perhaps they’re right, I don’t know.
They’re surely more effective:
they kill instead of wanting to kill.
And we’ve always known that this arsenal
of dung called humanity is beautiful.
No one in the photograph has survived.
© 2007, Richard Zenith
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