THE LOAD

A street led me to the port.
And I was the street with its torn windows
and the sun set down in the maternal sand.
I carried to the seaside everything that appeared
during my passage: doors, faces, voices, colonies of termites
and braided onions ripening in the shadows
of well-stocked storerooms. And sacks of sugar. And the rains
that had darkened the roofs of the houses.
It was a day of offerings. Nothing was lost.
The waves celebrated the beauty of the world.
The earth put on parade its promises of life.
And I lay down my own light load
in the cargo-holds of those rusting ships.

DE LAST

Even straat leidde mij naar de haven.
En ik was de straat met haar kapotte ramen
en met de zon die neergelegd was in het moederlijke zand.
Ik nam naar de zeekant mee wat zich maar voordeed
op mijn weg: deuren, gezichten, stemmen, termietenheuvels
en strengen uien die hingen te rijpen in de schaduw
van de vooruitziende magazijnen. En zakken suiker. En de regens
die de daken van de huizen hadden gezwart.
Het was een dag van gaven. Niets was verloren.
De golven vierden de schoonheid van de wereld.
De aarde toonde de belofte van het leven.
En ik legde mijn lichte last neer
in het ruim van de verroeste schepen.

A CARGA

Uma rua me conduzia até o porto.
E eu era a rua com as suas janelas dilaceradas
e o sol despositado na areia materna.
Eu levava para a beira do mar tudo o que surgia
à minha passagem: portas, rostos, vozes, colônias de cupim
e réstias de cebola que amadureciam na sombra
dos armazéns próvidos. E sacos de açúcar. E as chuvas
que haviam enegrecido os telhados das casas.
Era um dia de dádivas. Nada estava perdido.
As ondas celebravam a beleza do mundo.
A terra ostentava a promessa da vida.
E eu despositava a minha leve carga
nos porões dos navios enferrujados.