Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Nuno Júdice

The Golden Age

A curve in time, like a curve in a road,
veers man from his old way. The landscape
suddenly changes: wooden houses, the black
covering of the bridge, the green of the
fields. He sits on a rock. He doesn’t know
where he is. He can’t hear the voice calling
from the depths for him to return.

He knows he can advance
if his eyes do not fix
upon the known. Without moving
he senses a transformation that makes
what’s strange discernible
and familiar. And so he returns
to the rigour the gods stole
with the first scream.

Other men, meanwhile, advance
across this landscape, knocking down
fences. They have hoes, sickles, faces
blanched from insomnia. Some
laugh. And they sing when the land
opens in furrows that climb
the hills, go down the hills,
and are lost across the plains.

Perhaps one day
they will meet.

A idade do ouro

A idade do ouro

Uma curva no tempo, como num caminho,
desvia o homem da direcção antiga. De súbito,
uma paisagem diferente: casas de madeira,
a cobertura negra da ponte, o verde dos
campos. Aí, senta-se numa pedra; não sabe
onde está; nem ouve que o chamam,
do fundo, para que regresse.

Ele sabe que pode avançar,
se os olhos não fixarem
a imagem conhecida. Imóvel,
uma transformação faz com que
as coisas estranhas se tornem perceptíveis
e familiares. Assim, regressa ao rigor
que os deuses lhe roubaram
com o grito inicial.

Porém, outros homens avançam
por essa paisagem, deitando abaixo
os muros. Têm foices, enxadas, rostos
embranquecidos pela vigília. Riem,
uns; e cantam, quando a terra
se abre em sulcos que sobem
os montes, descem colinas,
e se perdem na planície.

Um dia,
talvez se encontrem.
Close

The Golden Age

A curve in time, like a curve in a road,
veers man from his old way. The landscape
suddenly changes: wooden houses, the black
covering of the bridge, the green of the
fields. He sits on a rock. He doesn’t know
where he is. He can’t hear the voice calling
from the depths for him to return.

He knows he can advance
if his eyes do not fix
upon the known. Without moving
he senses a transformation that makes
what’s strange discernible
and familiar. And so he returns
to the rigour the gods stole
with the first scream.

Other men, meanwhile, advance
across this landscape, knocking down
fences. They have hoes, sickles, faces
blanched from insomnia. Some
laugh. And they sing when the land
opens in furrows that climb
the hills, go down the hills,
and are lost across the plains.

Perhaps one day
they will meet.

The Golden Age

A curve in time, like a curve in a road,
veers man from his old way. The landscape
suddenly changes: wooden houses, the black
covering of the bridge, the green of the
fields. He sits on a rock. He doesn’t know
where he is. He can’t hear the voice calling
from the depths for him to return.

He knows he can advance
if his eyes do not fix
upon the known. Without moving
he senses a transformation that makes
what’s strange discernible
and familiar. And so he returns
to the rigour the gods stole
with the first scream.

Other men, meanwhile, advance
across this landscape, knocking down
fences. They have hoes, sickles, faces
blanched from insomnia. Some
laugh. And they sing when the land
opens in furrows that climb
the hills, go down the hills,
and are lost across the plains.

Perhaps one day
they will meet.
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