Poem
Luiza Neto Jorge
HEAD IN AN AMBULANCE
There are cyclical wounds furious flightsinside rounded air sacs
wounds that are thought of at night
and break out in the morning
or that open up at night
and in the morning are thought of
along with the other thoughts
our organs are adept
at inventing like bandages
compresses helmets
sacraments
for securing the head
when it breaks away from us
when it’s able to sense us
in a syncope or naked exposure
or in a more spacious error
or in a quieter letter
or in the torture chamber
in the dark chamber, of childhood.
© Translation: 2005, Richard Zenith
A Cabeça em Ambulância
A Cabeça em Ambulância
Há feridas cíclicas há violentos voosdentro de câmaras de ar curvas
feridas que se pensam de noite
e rebentam pela manhã
ou que de noite se abrem
e pela manhã são pensadas
com todos os pensamentos
que os órgãos são hábeis
em inventar como pensos
ligaduras capacetes
sacramentos
com que se prende a cabeça
quando ela se nos afasta
quando ela nos pressente
em síncope ou desnudamento
ou num erro mais espaçoso
ou numa letra mais muda
ou na sala de tortura
na sala escura, de infância.
© 1966, Luiza Neto Jorge
From: Poesia
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisbon
From: Poesia
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisbon
Poems
Poems of Luiza Neto Jorge
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HEAD IN AN AMBULANCE
There are cyclical wounds furious flightsinside rounded air sacs
wounds that are thought of at night
and break out in the morning
or that open up at night
and in the morning are thought of
along with the other thoughts
our organs are adept
at inventing like bandages
compresses helmets
sacraments
for securing the head
when it breaks away from us
when it’s able to sense us
in a syncope or naked exposure
or in a more spacious error
or in a quieter letter
or in the torture chamber
in the dark chamber, of childhood.
© 2005, Richard Zenith
From: Poesia
From: Poesia
HEAD IN AN AMBULANCE
There are cyclical wounds furious flightsinside rounded air sacs
wounds that are thought of at night
and break out in the morning
or that open up at night
and in the morning are thought of
along with the other thoughts
our organs are adept
at inventing like bandages
compresses helmets
sacraments
for securing the head
when it breaks away from us
when it’s able to sense us
in a syncope or naked exposure
or in a more spacious error
or in a quieter letter
or in the torture chamber
in the dark chamber, of childhood.
© 2005, Richard Zenith
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