Maria do Rosário Pedreira
ANKLES
In the end it was thirst that got me
off the street. Into a café, serendipitous,
orange nappa chairs
bordering an almost-empty bar.
A teenage couple crowded
in a corner so they could speak
face-to-face. The boy – the more
attractive of the two – had a drop
of sweat dancing down his brow, a sign
that a difficult discussion lay
ahead. But then again, her ankles
were so weak that surely they couldn’t
withstand any type of confession. I gulped
my ice water so as not to disturb
her crying; and, before leaving, found
myself thinking that I wouldn’t
even mind being cheated on, if
I could be that age again.
ENKELS
Ik was omdat ik dorst had onderweg
gestopt. Voor een dorpscafé, waar
krukken met een oranje bekleding van
kunstleer rond een bijna lege bar stonden.
Op de hoek, om beter oog in oog met
elkaar te kunnen praten, zat een jong
stel. Op het voorhoofd van hem – die
de knapste van de twee was – parelde
een zweetdruppel, eentje maar, als teken
dat er iets moeilijks moest worden
uitgepraat. Maar haar enkels, zag ik,
waren zo dun dat ze die bekentenis
nooit zouden kunnen dragen. Ik dronk
snel mijn glas ijskoud water op om
haar huilen niet te verstoren; en bij
de deur betrapte ik me op de gedachte
dat het me niet kon schelen om bedrogen te
worden als ik opnieuw zo jong zou kunnen zijn.
TORNOZELOS
Foi na verdade a sede que me tirou
da estrada. Num café de província,
cadeiras de napa cor de laranja
bordavam um balcão quase vazio.
Numa esquina, para poder falar
olhos nos olhos, sentava-se um casal
adolescente. Na testa dele – que
era dos dois o mais bonito – bailava
sozinha uma pérola de suor, sinal
de que haveria coisas difíceis para
dizer. Mas, vendo bem, os tornozelos
dela eram tão finos que não iam
aguentar aquela confissão. Bebi
correndo a minha água gelada para
não atrapalhar o choro dela; e, antes
de sair, dei comigo a pensar que nem
me importaria muito de ser traída, se
pudesse ter outra vez aquela idade.
From: O meu corpo humano
Publisher: Quetzal editores, Portugal
ANKLES
In the end it was thirst that got me
off the street. Into a café, serendipitous,
orange nappa chairs
bordering an almost-empty bar.
A teenage couple crowded
in a corner so they could speak
face-to-face. The boy – the more
attractive of the two – had a drop
of sweat dancing down his brow, a sign
that a difficult discussion lay
ahead. But then again, her ankles
were so weak that surely they couldn’t
withstand any type of confession. I gulped
my ice water so as not to disturb
her crying; and, before leaving, found
myself thinking that I wouldn’t
even mind being cheated on, if
I could be that age again.
From: O meu corpo humano
ANKLES
In the end it was thirst that got me
off the street. Into a café, serendipitous,
orange nappa chairs
bordering an almost-empty bar.
A teenage couple crowded
in a corner so they could speak
face-to-face. The boy – the more
attractive of the two – had a drop
of sweat dancing down his brow, a sign
that a difficult discussion lay
ahead. But then again, her ankles
were so weak that surely they couldn’t
withstand any type of confession. I gulped
my ice water so as not to disturb
her crying; and, before leaving, found
myself thinking that I wouldn’t
even mind being cheated on, if
I could be that age again.
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