Poem
José Tolentino Mendonça
EXCEPT FOR YOU
What’s said about winter may be said about youthit’s an abstract season
at a certain moment we feel suddenly cold
as if time no longer consented
the unexpected rapture which often
too often stems from that truth
But there’s something whose crux
is farther or nearer
You don’t even know for how many years
you’ll keep going back to the woods
to the details you ignored
to the remnants of that first love
we all think we’ve gotten over
© Translation: 2006, Richard Zenith
MENOS PARA TI
MENOS PARA TI
O que se diz do inverno pode dizer-se da juventudeé uma estação abstracta
numa hora qualquer acabamos com frio
o desprovido transporte que por vezes
demasiadas vezes é o daquela verdade
Mas o jogo de alguma coisa
está mais longe ou mais perto
Nem tu sabes por quantos anos ainda
voltarás aos bosques
aos detalhes que ignoravas
ao que resta do primeiro amor
a que todos pensam ter sobrevivido
© 2001, José Tolentino Mendonça
From: A Noite Abre Meus Olhos
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisbon
From: A Noite Abre Meus Olhos
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisbon
Poems
Poems of José Tolentino Mendonça
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EXCEPT FOR YOU
What’s said about winter may be said about youthit’s an abstract season
at a certain moment we feel suddenly cold
as if time no longer consented
the unexpected rapture which often
too often stems from that truth
But there’s something whose crux
is farther or nearer
You don’t even know for how many years
you’ll keep going back to the woods
to the details you ignored
to the remnants of that first love
we all think we’ve gotten over
© 2006, Richard Zenith
From: A Noite Abre Meus Olhos
From: A Noite Abre Meus Olhos
EXCEPT FOR YOU
What’s said about winter may be said about youthit’s an abstract season
at a certain moment we feel suddenly cold
as if time no longer consented
the unexpected rapture which often
too often stems from that truth
But there’s something whose crux
is farther or nearer
You don’t even know for how many years
you’ll keep going back to the woods
to the details you ignored
to the remnants of that first love
we all think we’ve gotten over
© 2006, Richard Zenith
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