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domingo, 13 de fevereiro de 2011


I'm looking for
a man I don't know,
who's never been more myself
than since I started to look for him.
Does he have my eyes, my hands
and all those thoughts like
flotsam of time?
Season of a thousand wrecks,
the sea no longer a sea,
but an icy watery grave.
Yet farther on, who knows how it goes on?
A little girl sings backwards
and nightly reigns over trees
a shepherdess among her sheep.
Let us wrench thirst from the grain
of salt no drink can quench.
Along with the stones,
a whole world eats its hearts out, being
from nowhere, like me.

From the Book to the Book. University Press of New England. Hanover, 1991.
Do livro francês Je batis ma demeure em tradução feita pela poeta alemã, naturalizada norte-americana, Rosmarie Waldrop.

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