SIGN

That was the year that the rains were excessive and mushrooms grew
in dogs’ eyes. The young bulls, looking out at the light from their mother’s crotches, drowned in the mud, in the middle of the vines. The walls of the houses dissolved in cream and the potters no longer entrusted their work to God. Enormous measures were invented
to protect the altar flames and the children started to run around naked.
The termitaries ceased to exist and winged ants lost their wings. The feet of the oldest ones split open in sores and the breasts of virgins, as soon as you touched them, stuck to your fingers like wet ash. The lips of the birthing womens’ sex swelled plumply like white meat and their bellies hung like soft fruit.
That was the year the rain was excessive and the horizon ceased to exist.

It rained forever until the dogs lost all their fur and people’s hair stuck out like rotten seaweed. The King of Jau got stuck to his throne and the sacred bullock’s eyes grew larger, and then went blind. The seed sprouted in the granaries and then it was served up to the men, just like that, and they were infused with such vigor that their cocks grew immeasurably and they reeled about, with the things in their hands, mute with the magic.

The rain rained so much that the snakes left their snake-holes
and stretched out next to sticks, raising their heads
with only the greatest effort. Moss multiplied in the tureens of milk
and the milk of cows turned to whey which curdled in urine.
That year the rain rained so much that even the beaches grew
branches and the rushing streams spawned fish and even the iron washed itself alone and diamonds started to tumble around the stones hollowed out for milling flour. The birds themselves nearly all died and the only ones that saved themselves were those with white feathers, which the distance attracted, then ate.

And the rain was good for fossils, and there were minerals
that came alive and even common stones that were transmuted into
flesh.

That year the rain rained so much that memory was rendered
meaningless. Throats were clogged with sludge and the brows that the aged held in their hands fused with their fingers,
and their arms fused to their legs and their graceful gestures smelt their bodies and the youngest children ended up glued to their mothers’ breasts.
Only our mouths dared to remain open and when the rain
finally stopped, huge black birds flew from them and disappeared into the distance. And the drought came back   and the world dried out. Now the ancient flesh has turned to dirt,
the fossils to stone and the branches to humus.
And footsteps gradually polished the forms.   

That year the rain rained so much
that memory was rendered meaningless.

TEKEN

Dat jaar regende het buitensporig en er groeiden paddenstoelen in de ogen van de honden. De kalveren, knipperend naar het licht door de vagina van hun moeder, verdronken in de modder, tussen de sambo-bomen.
De muren van de huizen smolten in room en de pottenbakkers droegen hun werk niet langer op aan God. Enorme zorg werd uitgevonden
om altaarvuren brandende te houden en kinderen omarmden de naaktheid.
Termietenheuvels hielden op te bestaan en gevleugelde mieren verloren hun vleugels. De voeten van de oudsten spleten in open wonden en de borsten van maagden, zodra men ze raakte, plakten als vochtige as aan de vingers. De schaamlippen van vrouwen die hadden gebaard zwollen vlezig  op van een wit vlees en hun buiken gingen hangen
als beurs fruit.
Dat jaar regende het buitensporig en horizonten hielden op te bestaan.

Het regende heel lang totdat de honden al hun haar verloren
en mensenharen afhingen als rotte algen. De koning van Jaú
bleef kleven op zijn troon en van de heilige koe groeiden
de ogen, die later blind werden. De zaden ontkiemden in de graanschuren
en werden zo, met kiem en al, de mannen geserveerd en daarvan gewerd hun
een zo grote kracht dat hun penissen onmatig groeiden
en de mannen wankelden, hun lid in de hand en met stomheid geslagen.

De regen regende zo hevig dat de slangen uit hun holen kwamen
en zich uitstrekten onder de bomen, slechts met moeite
hun koppen heffend. In de melkkommen gedijden mossen
en de melk der koeien veranderde in wei die stremde in de urine.
Dat jaar regende de regen zo hevig dat zelfs uit zandland loten
sproten en dat in gootwater vissen leefden en dat zelfs ijzer vanzelf
schoon werd en dat diamanten rolden in de holle molenstenen
om het graan te malen. De vogels zelve stierven bijna allemaal,
slechts zij met witte pennen redden het, die door de verte werden aangetrokken en opgegeten.

En deze regen was gunstig voor fossielen en er waren mineralen
die tot leven kwamen en zelfs doodgewone stenen werden vlees.

Dat jaar regende de regen zo hevig dat het geheugen alle betekenis verloor. De kelen raakten verstopt met wieren en de voorhoofden die oude mensen op hun handen legden versmolten met de vingers en de armen met de benen, en zegenende gebaren versmolten de lichamen en zuigelingen kleefden aan de borsten van de moeders.
Alleen de monden hielden zich hardnekkig open en toen de regen later ophield, kwamen uit de monden dikke zwarte vogels die terstond die streek verlieten. En de droogte keerde weer en de wereld droogde op. Het vroegere vlees werd nu weer aarde, de fossielen steen, de takken humus.
En voetstappen polijstten gaandeweg de vormen.

Dat jaar regende de regen zo hevig
dat het geheugen nooit meer betekenis had.

SINAL

Naquele ano a chuva foi excessiva e cresceram tortulhos
nos olhos dos cães. Os vitelos, ao espreitar a luz pelos sexos
das mães, afogavam-se em lama, no meio dos sambos. As paredes
das casas diluíam-se em nata e os oleiros desistiram de encomendar
a sua obra a Deus. Enormes cuidados foram inventados
para proteger o fogo nos altares e as crianças adoptaram a nudez.
As termiteiras deixaram de existir e as formigas aladas
perderam as asas. Os pés dos mais-velhos fenderam-se em chagas
e as mamas das virgens, mal eram tocadas, colavam-se aos dedos
como cinza húmida. Os lábios dos sexos das mulheres paridas
inchavam carnudos de uma carne branca e os ventres pendiam
como fruta mole.
Naquele ano a chuva foi excessiva
e os horizontes deixaram de existir.

Choveu por muito tempo até os cães perderem todo o pêlo
e as cabeleiras se destacarem como algas podres. O rei do Jau
ficou colado ao trono e ao boi sagrado cresceram-lhe os olhos,
que depois cegaram. As sementes grelaram nos celeiros
e essa semente assim era servida aos homens e daí lhes ocorreu
um tal vigor que os seus sexos cresceram desmedidos
e os homens vacilaram, tendo-os nas mãos e mudos de fascínio.

A chuva choveu tanto que as serpentes saíram dos buracos
e vieram alongar-se ao pé dos paus, mantendo com esforço
as cabeças erguidas. Nas terrinas do leite vicejavam musgos
e o leite das vacas alterou-se em soro, a coalhar na urina.
Naquele ano a chuva choveu tanto que até nos areais cresceram
talos e as enxurradas produziram peixe e até o ferro se lavou
sozinho e os diamantes vieram rebolar nas pedras concavadas
de moer farinha. As próprias aves morreram quase todas
e apenas se salvaram as de penas brancas, que a distância atraiu,
depois comeu.

E aquela chuva aproveitou aos fósseis e houve minerais
que se animaram e até pedras comuns a transmudar-se em carne.

Naquele ano a chuva choveu tanto que a memória perdeu todo
o sentido. As gargantas entupiram-se de limos
e as testas que os velhos pousavam nas mãos fundiam-se aos dedos
e os braços às pernas e os gestos de graça fundiam os corpos
e as jovens crianças ficavam coladas ao peito das mães.
Só as bocas teimavam em manter-se abertas e quando mais tarde
a chuva parou, das bocas saíram grossas aves negras
que abalaram logo daquelas paragens. E a seca voltou
e o mundo secou. A carne antiga a dar-se agora em terra,
os fósseis em pedra e as ramas em húmus.
E os passos poliram pouco a pouco as formas.

Naquele ano a chuva choveu tanto
que a memória nunca mais teve sentido.