Poem
Miguel-Manso
The fall
what’s left of August is this photographall lit up
where everything is still in place:
the mouth with its trickery of tastes
the slowness of sugars
sweaty hands releasing inner
swamps
white legs, dress glued to the climate
of those legs
the heated estrus of our sun, above
below – some sandals
at the first hints of autumn
the esplanades disappeared
De val
van augustus rest deze fotovol licht
waar alles nog op zijn plaats is:
de mond in de kunstgreep van de smaken
de traagheid van de suikers
zweethanden die innerlijke moerassen
verdrijven
witte benen, jurk strak passend bij het klimaat
van die benen
de trillende bronst van de Ster erboven
eronder sandalen
bij de eerste tekenen van herfst
werden de terrassen opgedoekt
A queda
resta, de Agosto, esta fotografiailuminada
onde tudo permanece ainda no lugar:
a boca no artifício dos sabores
a lentidão dos açúcares
mãos suadas dissipando pântanos
interiores
pernas brancas, vestido colado ao clima
dessas pernas
o cio vibrante do Astro, por cima
por baixo, umas sandálias
às primeiras evidências outonais
levantaram as esplanadas
From: Tojo: poemas escolhidos
Publisher: Relógio D’Água, Lisboa
Publisher: Relógio D’Água, Lisboa
Poems
Poems of Miguel-Manso
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The fall
what’s left of August is this photographall lit up
where everything is still in place:
the mouth with its trickery of tastes
the slowness of sugars
sweaty hands releasing inner
swamps
white legs, dress glued to the climate
of those legs
the heated estrus of our sun, above
below – some sandals
at the first hints of autumn
the esplanades disappeared
From: Tojo: poemas escolhidos
The fall
what’s left of August is this photographall lit up
where everything is still in place:
the mouth with its trickery of tastes
the slowness of sugars
sweaty hands releasing inner
swamps
white legs, dress glued to the climate
of those legs
the heated estrus of our sun, above
below – some sandals
at the first hints of autumn
the esplanades disappeared
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