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Poem

António Franco Alexandre

Syrinx, a Pastoral Fiction (I)

I’m going to put a dirty ad in the newspaper
asking for fresh, not especially athletic meat
and noble feelings of passion.
I want a – how shall I put it? – human
being who’ll discover my mouth
and who, like me, has split hooves,
a blue bifid tongue and a rude
manner of singing under water.
I want someone who’ll love me and leave me
with equally tranquil concision
and who’ll record our encounter in a report
or a poem for inclusion in the syllabi
of the schools beyond the bridges.
And I wait by the phone to find out
if I’m happy, real, or just a foam
of ashes passing through sundry hands.

Syrinx, Ficção Pastoral (I)

Syrinx, Ficção Pastoral (I)

Vou pôr um anúncio obsceno no diário
pedindo carne fresca pouco atlética
e nobres sentimentos de paixão.
Desejo um ser, como dizer, humano
Que por acaso me descubra a boca
e tenha como eu fendidos cascos
bífida língua azul e insolentes
maneiras de cantar dentro de água.
Vou querer que me ame e abandone
com igual e serena concisão
e faça do encontro relatório
ou poema que conste do sumário
nas escolas ali além das pontes
E espero ao telefone que me digam
se sou feliz, real, ou simplesmente
uma espuma de cinza em muitas mãos.
Close

Syrinx, a Pastoral Fiction (I)

I’m going to put a dirty ad in the newspaper
asking for fresh, not especially athletic meat
and noble feelings of passion.
I want a – how shall I put it? – human
being who’ll discover my mouth
and who, like me, has split hooves,
a blue bifid tongue and a rude
manner of singing under water.
I want someone who’ll love me and leave me
with equally tranquil concision
and who’ll record our encounter in a report
or a poem for inclusion in the syllabi
of the schools beyond the bridges.
And I wait by the phone to find out
if I’m happy, real, or just a foam
of ashes passing through sundry hands.

Syrinx, a Pastoral Fiction (I)

I’m going to put a dirty ad in the newspaper
asking for fresh, not especially athletic meat
and noble feelings of passion.
I want a – how shall I put it? – human
being who’ll discover my mouth
and who, like me, has split hooves,
a blue bifid tongue and a rude
manner of singing under water.
I want someone who’ll love me and leave me
with equally tranquil concision
and who’ll record our encounter in a report
or a poem for inclusion in the syllabi
of the schools beyond the bridges.
And I wait by the phone to find out
if I’m happy, real, or just a foam
of ashes passing through sundry hands.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère