Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Luiza Neto Jorge

THE DEBT

Alive in the dagger’s instantaneous lip
in the daily arrested hour

The debts grow they’re already rough
they hurt the skin they’re already pus

The day starts out from shadows
as a people starts from dust
Hour after hour light and death coincide

The debt spreads    it spreads its wings
it seizes my weak dreams everything tempts it

Behind the gesture I make
my hand is alone my fingers conspire
asymmetrically
sticking out from my body until death

I’d give them away today if I could
But what weapon can separate them from me?

While I’m thinking
the debt keeps growing

A Dívida

A Dívida

Viva no instantâneo lábio do punhal
na hora diariamente imóvel

As dívidas crescem já são ásperas
magoam a pele já são pus

O dia começa pela sombra
como um povo começa pelo pó
Luz e morte coincidem hora a hora

A dívida alastra   abre as asas
leva-me sonhos débeis tudo a tenta

Atrás do meu gesto
a mão sozinha os dedos conspirando
assimétricos
salientes do corpo até à morte

Já hoje os doava se pudesse
Com que arma porém os separar de mim?

A dívida mais cresce
enquanto eu penso
Close

THE DEBT

Alive in the dagger’s instantaneous lip
in the daily arrested hour

The debts grow they’re already rough
they hurt the skin they’re already pus

The day starts out from shadows
as a people starts from dust
Hour after hour light and death coincide

The debt spreads    it spreads its wings
it seizes my weak dreams everything tempts it

Behind the gesture I make
my hand is alone my fingers conspire
asymmetrically
sticking out from my body until death

I’d give them away today if I could
But what weapon can separate them from me?

While I’m thinking
the debt keeps growing

THE DEBT

Alive in the dagger’s instantaneous lip
in the daily arrested hour

The debts grow they’re already rough
they hurt the skin they’re already pus

The day starts out from shadows
as a people starts from dust
Hour after hour light and death coincide

The debt spreads    it spreads its wings
it seizes my weak dreams everything tempts it

Behind the gesture I make
my hand is alone my fingers conspire
asymmetrically
sticking out from my body until death

I’d give them away today if I could
But what weapon can separate them from me?

While I’m thinking
the debt keeps growing
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