Poem
A. M. Pires Cabral
THE PROSTITUTES
Back then our townwould be visited by prostitutes –
our only recourse,
the perfect answer to our accumulated
seminal anxiety.
They came from Vale da Porca, or from
some equally godforsaken place.
They came with flashy scarves on their heads
and handbags containing the old, sad story:
artless seduction and chronic squalor,
but not mere mercenary vice.
In barnyards, planted between their legs
like kings, we gave them our waters.
To flatter us they tried to time
their feigned orgasms with our own.
They kissed us, saying: so young!
They endured our insults and rude thrusts.
With an experienced (but not surfeited) hand
they guided us in that beautiful and urgent
education that cannot wait,
extending us credit and affection –
those women who were so chaste,
those prostitutes.
© Translation: 2008, Richard Zenith
AS PROSTITUTAS
AS PROSTITUTAS
Naquele tempo,elas desciam à vila, as prostitutas –
a única saída,
exactíssima resposta para a nossa
angústia seminal acumulada.
Vinham de Vale da Porca, ou outra
terra assim pasmada.
Traziam na cabeça lenços garridos,
na carteira de mão a triste história:
a sedução primária, a miséria espessa,
mas jamais o vício mercenário.
Nas eiras recebiam nossas águas,
de permeio plantados como reis.
Procuravam lisonjeiras acertar
seu êxtase fingido com o nosso.
Beijavam-nos, diziam: tão novinho!
Suportavam-nos insultos e arremessos.
Com mão experiente (mas não habituada)
guiavam-nos na bela, impreterível,
urgente aprendizagem,
concediam-nos crédito e carinho –
as tão castas mulheres,
as prostitutas.
© 1974, A. M. Pires Cabral
From: Algures a Nordeste
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisboa
From: Algures a Nordeste
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisboa
Poems
Poems of A. M. Pires Cabral
Close
THE PROSTITUTES
Back then our townwould be visited by prostitutes –
our only recourse,
the perfect answer to our accumulated
seminal anxiety.
They came from Vale da Porca, or from
some equally godforsaken place.
They came with flashy scarves on their heads
and handbags containing the old, sad story:
artless seduction and chronic squalor,
but not mere mercenary vice.
In barnyards, planted between their legs
like kings, we gave them our waters.
To flatter us they tried to time
their feigned orgasms with our own.
They kissed us, saying: so young!
They endured our insults and rude thrusts.
With an experienced (but not surfeited) hand
they guided us in that beautiful and urgent
education that cannot wait,
extending us credit and affection –
those women who were so chaste,
those prostitutes.
© 2008, Richard Zenith
From: Algures a Nordeste
From: Algures a Nordeste
THE PROSTITUTES
Back then our townwould be visited by prostitutes –
our only recourse,
the perfect answer to our accumulated
seminal anxiety.
They came from Vale da Porca, or from
some equally godforsaken place.
They came with flashy scarves on their heads
and handbags containing the old, sad story:
artless seduction and chronic squalor,
but not mere mercenary vice.
In barnyards, planted between their legs
like kings, we gave them our waters.
To flatter us they tried to time
their feigned orgasms with our own.
They kissed us, saying: so young!
They endured our insults and rude thrusts.
With an experienced (but not surfeited) hand
they guided us in that beautiful and urgent
education that cannot wait,
extending us credit and affection –
those women who were so chaste,
those prostitutes.
© 2008, Richard Zenith
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