Poem
António Osório
Resurrection of Leopoldo Panero
INo, Panero, I don’t believe
in the resurrection of the flesh.
Don’t wait beneath that stone:
God has always had the face
of an incorruptible man
doing battle with his demons.
Lazarus, who knew everything and said
nothing, lies next to you.
It’s better to restore to others
that bygone age fifteen,
to hope that they will shine
and survive, like seeds of alfalfa,
and to write verses like yours,
which arrested the divine fire and snow,
and to love those verses as if there
your eyes and the faith that inflamed them
still glowed, without any ashes.
II
That said, Panero, I wish I could
quench your thirst with a honeycomb,
revive your sense of smell with mint and fennel,
your sight with those blue eyes you loved,
your touch with your own newborn skin.
Yes, I wish you could say
that you’d witnessed the transfiguration
of the God of the dead into the God of the living
and that He suffered more than his Son
to come out of the grave, and anointed
your bones, cleansing your inner leprosy,
and that your soul penetrated your body
like springtime inside a nest.
© Translation: 2008, Richard Zenith
RESSURREIÇÃO DE LEOPOLDO PANERO
RESSURREIÇÃO DE LEOPOLDO PANERO
INão, Panero, não creio
na ressurreição da carne.
Não esperes debaixo dessa pedra:
Deus teve sempre a face
de um homem incorruptível
lutando contra os seus demónios.
Lázaro, que tudo soube e nada
disse, jaz a teu lado.
É melhor restituir aos outros
os nossos quinze anos,
a esperança de que sejam luminosos
e sobrevivam, como sementes de luzerna,
e escrever, como tu, versos
que detinham o fogo e a neve divinas
e amá-los como se neles
resplandecessem ainda os teus olhos
e a fé que os abrasava, limpos de cinza.
II
E contudo, Panero, desejaria
matar-te a sede com um favo de mel,
com hortelã e funcho despertar-te o olfacto,
a vista com os olhos que amavas, azuis,
o tacto com a própria pele, recém-nascida.
Desejaria, sim, pudesses dizer
que presenciaste a transfiguração
do Deus dos mortos em Deus dos vivos
e que Ele sofreu mais que o Filho
para sair do sepulcro, e te ungiu
os ossos purificando a íntima lepra,
e que a tua alma penetrou no corpo
como a primavera dentro de um ninho.
© 1978, António Osório
From: A ignorância da morte, 1978
Publisher: Author\'s edition, Lisbon
From: A ignorância da morte, 1978
Publisher: Author\'s edition, Lisbon
Poems
Poems of António Osório
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Resurrection of Leopoldo Panero
INo, Panero, I don’t believe
in the resurrection of the flesh.
Don’t wait beneath that stone:
God has always had the face
of an incorruptible man
doing battle with his demons.
Lazarus, who knew everything and said
nothing, lies next to you.
It’s better to restore to others
that bygone age fifteen,
to hope that they will shine
and survive, like seeds of alfalfa,
and to write verses like yours,
which arrested the divine fire and snow,
and to love those verses as if there
your eyes and the faith that inflamed them
still glowed, without any ashes.
II
That said, Panero, I wish I could
quench your thirst with a honeycomb,
revive your sense of smell with mint and fennel,
your sight with those blue eyes you loved,
your touch with your own newborn skin.
Yes, I wish you could say
that you’d witnessed the transfiguration
of the God of the dead into the God of the living
and that He suffered more than his Son
to come out of the grave, and anointed
your bones, cleansing your inner leprosy,
and that your soul penetrated your body
like springtime inside a nest.
© 2008, Richard Zenith
From: A ignorância da morte, 1978
From: A ignorância da morte, 1978
Resurrection of Leopoldo Panero
INo, Panero, I don’t believe
in the resurrection of the flesh.
Don’t wait beneath that stone:
God has always had the face
of an incorruptible man
doing battle with his demons.
Lazarus, who knew everything and said
nothing, lies next to you.
It’s better to restore to others
that bygone age fifteen,
to hope that they will shine
and survive, like seeds of alfalfa,
and to write verses like yours,
which arrested the divine fire and snow,
and to love those verses as if there
your eyes and the faith that inflamed them
still glowed, without any ashes.
II
That said, Panero, I wish I could
quench your thirst with a honeycomb,
revive your sense of smell with mint and fennel,
your sight with those blue eyes you loved,
your touch with your own newborn skin.
Yes, I wish you could say
that you’d witnessed the transfiguration
of the God of the dead into the God of the living
and that He suffered more than his Son
to come out of the grave, and anointed
your bones, cleansing your inner leprosy,
and that your soul penetrated your body
like springtime inside a nest.
© 2008, Richard Zenith
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