Poem
Daniel Faria
A free-falling bird even
A free-falling bird evenWhen equal in size to the stone
That falls from the wall will never
Attain the same colouring as the moss
And all the less so in the month
When its feathers change
To have some idea think
Of how a man loses the age
Of when he searched out nests
Keep in mind: man falls down. The bird
Migrates so that the seasons won’t change
It is by that rotation that the wall
Can be circled without anyone building it. The circle
Of that flight is the stone of age
To have some idea think
Of swallowing it
© Translation: 2004, Richard Zenith
A free-falling bird even
Um pássaro em queda mesmo
Quando é proporcional à pedra
Que tomba do muro nunca
Alcança a mesma coloração do musgo
– Já nem sequer falo do tempo
Em que mudam a pena
Para fazeres ideia pensa
Como perde um homem a idade
De encontrar os ninhos
Retém na memória: o homem cai. Desloca-se
O pássaro para que as estações não mudem
É dessa rotação que o muro
Pode cercar-se sem ninguém o construir. O cerco
Do voo é a pedra da idade
Para fazeres uma ideia pensa
Em engoli-la
Quando é proporcional à pedra
Que tomba do muro nunca
Alcança a mesma coloração do musgo
– Já nem sequer falo do tempo
Em que mudam a pena
Para fazeres ideia pensa
Como perde um homem a idade
De encontrar os ninhos
Retém na memória: o homem cai. Desloca-se
O pássaro para que as estações não mudem
É dessa rotação que o muro
Pode cercar-se sem ninguém o construir. O cerco
Do voo é a pedra da idade
Para fazeres uma ideia pensa
Em engoli-la
© 1998, Daniel Faria
From: Poesia
Publisher: Quasi, Vila Nova de Famalicão
From: Poesia
Publisher: Quasi, Vila Nova de Famalicão
Poems
Poems of Daniel Faria
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A free-falling bird even
A free-falling bird evenWhen equal in size to the stone
That falls from the wall will never
Attain the same colouring as the moss
And all the less so in the month
When its feathers change
To have some idea think
Of how a man loses the age
Of when he searched out nests
Keep in mind: man falls down. The bird
Migrates so that the seasons won’t change
It is by that rotation that the wall
Can be circled without anyone building it. The circle
Of that flight is the stone of age
To have some idea think
Of swallowing it
© 2004, Richard Zenith
From: Poesia
From: Poesia
A free-falling bird even
A free-falling bird evenWhen equal in size to the stone
That falls from the wall will never
Attain the same colouring as the moss
And all the less so in the month
When its feathers change
To have some idea think
Of how a man loses the age
Of when he searched out nests
Keep in mind: man falls down. The bird
Migrates so that the seasons won’t change
It is by that rotation that the wall
Can be circled without anyone building it. The circle
Of that flight is the stone of age
To have some idea think
Of swallowing it
© 2004, Richard Zenith
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