at the piano, a body primed
for everything to be born again
the fingered promise of return
to that circular meeting
place, where we no longer remember
who we are, nor for whom
we wept. we warm up our wind
whipped hands, the skin gradually
melting into wings, the blood
into forests and rivers.
this is how it starts,
we see the morning from afar
and wait for a face to be drawn for us.
© Translated by Ana Hudson, 2011
I’m going in
ao piano, um corpo pronto
a nascer tudo de novo
a promessa dedilhada do regresso
àquele ponto de encontro
circular, em que já não recordamos
quem somos, nem por quem
chorámos. aquecemos as mãos
batidas pelo vento, a pele funde-se
aos poucos com as asas, o sangue
com as florestas e os rios.
this is how it starts,
olhamos a manhã ao longe
à espera que nos desenhem um rosto.
in small song, 2010
