Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Mário Cesariny de Vasconcelos

a poem that can serve as an afterword

streets where the danger is obvious
green arms of occult practices
corpses floating on the water
sunflowers
and a body
a body for blocking the day’s lamps
a body for falling through a landscape of birds
for going out early in the morning and coming back very late
surrounded by dwarfs and lilac fields
a body for covering your absence
like a bedspread
a place setting
a perfume

this or its contrary, but somehow gaping
and with many people there to see what it is
this or a population of sixty thousand souls devouring scarlet pillows on their way to the sea
and arriving, at dusk,
next to the submarines

this or a torso dislodged from a verse
and whose death makes everyone proud
o pallid city built
like a fever between two floors!
we’ll home deliver
dirt for filling up candelabras
smoldering beds for erect lovers
slates with forbidden words
– a woman for the fellow who’s losing interest in life (Here, take her!),
two grandchildren for the old woman at the end of the line (That’s all we have!) –
we’ll pillage the museum give a diadem to the world and then require it to be put back in the same place,
and for you and for me, favorably situated,
some poison to pour into the giant’s eyes

this or a face a solitary face like a boat in search of a gentle breeze for the night
if we’re sand that’s sifted
in a slack wind     among painted bushes
if an intention is bound to reach its shore like the ocean’s currents     shipwrecks and storms
if the man of hostels and boardinghouses lifts his damp cratered forehead
if the sun outside is shining more than ever
if for a minute
it’s worth
waiting
this or happiness in the simple form of a pulse
shimmering amid the foliage of the loftiest lamps
this or the said happiness the airplane of cards
that comes in through the window      that goes out by the roof
so does the pyramid exist?
so does the pyramid say things?
is the pyramid each person’s secret with the world?

yes my love the pyramid exists
the pyramid says many many things
the pyramid is the art of dancing in silence

and in any case

there are public squares where a lily can be sculpted
subtle regions where blueness flows
gestures belonging to no one     boats underneath flowers
a song by which to hear you arrive

poema podendo servir de posfácio

poema podendo servir de posfácio

ruas onde o perigo é evidente
braços verdes de práticas ocultas
cadáveres à tona de água
girassóis
e um corpo
um corpo para cortar as lâmpadas do dia
um corpo para descer uma paisagem de aves
para ir de manhã cedo e voltar muito tarde
rodeado de anões e de campos de lilases
um corpo para cobrir a tua ausência
como uma colcha
um talher
um perfume

isto ou o seu contrário, mas de certa maneira hiante
e com muita gente à volta a ver o que é
isto ou uma população de sessenta mil almas devorando almofadas escarlates a caminho do mar
e que chegam, ao crepúsculo,
encostadas aos submarinos

isto ou um torso desalojado de um verso
e cuja morte é o orgulho de todos
ó pálida cidade construída
como uma febre entre dois patamares!
vamos distribuir ao domicílio
terra para encher candelabros
leitos de fumo para amantes erectos
tabuinhas com palavras interditas
– uma mulher para este que está quase a perder o gosto à vida – tome lá –
dois netos para essa velha aí no fim da fila – não temos mais –
saquear o museu dar um diadema ao mundo e depois obrigar a repor no mesmo sítio
e para ti e para mim, assentes num espaço útil,
veneno para entornar nos olhos do gigante

isto ou um rosto um rosto solitário como barco em demanda de vento calmo para a noite
se nós somos areia que se filtre
a um vento débil     entre arbustos pintados
se um propósito deve atingir a sua margem como as correntes da terra     náufragos e tempestade
se o homem das pensões e das hospedarias levanta a sua fronte de cratera molhada
se na rua o sol brilha como nunca
se por um minuto
vale a pena
esperar
isto ou a alegria igual à simples forma de um pulso
aceso entre a folhagem das mais altas lâmpadas
isto ou a alegria dita o avião de cartas
entrada pela janela     saída pelo telhado
ah mas então a pirâmide existe?
ah mas e então a pirâmide diz coisas?
então a pirâmide é o segredo de cada um com o mundo?

sim meu amor a pirâmide existe
a pirâmide diz muitíssimas coisas
a pirâmide é a arte de bailar em silêncio

e em todo o caso

há praças onde esculpir um lírio
zonas subtis de propagação do azul
gestos sem dono     barcos sob as flores
uma canção para ouvir-te chegar
Close

a poem that can serve as an afterword

streets where the danger is obvious
green arms of occult practices
corpses floating on the water
sunflowers
and a body
a body for blocking the day’s lamps
a body for falling through a landscape of birds
for going out early in the morning and coming back very late
surrounded by dwarfs and lilac fields
a body for covering your absence
like a bedspread
a place setting
a perfume

this or its contrary, but somehow gaping
and with many people there to see what it is
this or a population of sixty thousand souls devouring scarlet pillows on their way to the sea
and arriving, at dusk,
next to the submarines

this or a torso dislodged from a verse
and whose death makes everyone proud
o pallid city built
like a fever between two floors!
we’ll home deliver
dirt for filling up candelabras
smoldering beds for erect lovers
slates with forbidden words
– a woman for the fellow who’s losing interest in life (Here, take her!),
two grandchildren for the old woman at the end of the line (That’s all we have!) –
we’ll pillage the museum give a diadem to the world and then require it to be put back in the same place,
and for you and for me, favorably situated,
some poison to pour into the giant’s eyes

this or a face a solitary face like a boat in search of a gentle breeze for the night
if we’re sand that’s sifted
in a slack wind     among painted bushes
if an intention is bound to reach its shore like the ocean’s currents     shipwrecks and storms
if the man of hostels and boardinghouses lifts his damp cratered forehead
if the sun outside is shining more than ever
if for a minute
it’s worth
waiting
this or happiness in the simple form of a pulse
shimmering amid the foliage of the loftiest lamps
this or the said happiness the airplane of cards
that comes in through the window      that goes out by the roof
so does the pyramid exist?
so does the pyramid say things?
is the pyramid each person’s secret with the world?

yes my love the pyramid exists
the pyramid says many many things
the pyramid is the art of dancing in silence

and in any case

there are public squares where a lily can be sculpted
subtle regions where blueness flows
gestures belonging to no one     boats underneath flowers
a song by which to hear you arrive

a poem that can serve as an afterword

streets where the danger is obvious
green arms of occult practices
corpses floating on the water
sunflowers
and a body
a body for blocking the day’s lamps
a body for falling through a landscape of birds
for going out early in the morning and coming back very late
surrounded by dwarfs and lilac fields
a body for covering your absence
like a bedspread
a place setting
a perfume

this or its contrary, but somehow gaping
and with many people there to see what it is
this or a population of sixty thousand souls devouring scarlet pillows on their way to the sea
and arriving, at dusk,
next to the submarines

this or a torso dislodged from a verse
and whose death makes everyone proud
o pallid city built
like a fever between two floors!
we’ll home deliver
dirt for filling up candelabras
smoldering beds for erect lovers
slates with forbidden words
– a woman for the fellow who’s losing interest in life (Here, take her!),
two grandchildren for the old woman at the end of the line (That’s all we have!) –
we’ll pillage the museum give a diadem to the world and then require it to be put back in the same place,
and for you and for me, favorably situated,
some poison to pour into the giant’s eyes

this or a face a solitary face like a boat in search of a gentle breeze for the night
if we’re sand that’s sifted
in a slack wind     among painted bushes
if an intention is bound to reach its shore like the ocean’s currents     shipwrecks and storms
if the man of hostels and boardinghouses lifts his damp cratered forehead
if the sun outside is shining more than ever
if for a minute
it’s worth
waiting
this or happiness in the simple form of a pulse
shimmering amid the foliage of the loftiest lamps
this or the said happiness the airplane of cards
that comes in through the window      that goes out by the roof
so does the pyramid exist?
so does the pyramid say things?
is the pyramid each person’s secret with the world?

yes my love the pyramid exists
the pyramid says many many things
the pyramid is the art of dancing in silence

and in any case

there are public squares where a lily can be sculpted
subtle regions where blueness flows
gestures belonging to no one     boats underneath flowers
a song by which to hear you arrive
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