It happened that one of Medusa’s sisters cut
both wrists with glass and then stood, frightened, at the mirror.
She realised it wasn’t blood pouring out but moss,
From her milky wrists green and fresh moss was trickling around the bluish
thinner veins, green and fresh moss like the one from Minos’
fountains, then she looked again in the mirror and realised she could not die
Not because she was dead already, but because she had been given the sweetest
of sentences, that of being reborn without noticing;
the one who looked at her in the mirror kissed her wrists,
licked the fresh moss full of life;
she lay her head on the chest of the one who sends her to sleep and
felt his heartbeat.
She kissed him and licked his fresh warm wrists,
And then she smiled and drank the Marsala wine and with the Marsala wine
drew on the back of the one who sends her to sleep
one letter, and another and another – ordered
poppies and daisies to be brought to her, ate some, and with the others decorated
her hair.
© Translated by Ana Hudson, 2011
Spritz
Aconteceu a uma irmã de Medusa cortar
os dois pulsos com vidro e esperar assustada em frente ao espelho,
Percebeu que não era sangue que lhe saía dos pulsos mas musgo,
Dos pulsos lácteos nascia-lhe musgo verde e fresco, que torneava o azul
das veias mais pequenas, musgo verde e fresco como das fontes de
Minos, então voltou a olhar-se ao espelho e percebeu que não podia morrer
Não por já estar morta, mas por estar condenada à mais doce pena, a
de renascer sem dar conta disso;
o que a olhava no espelho beijou-lhe os pulsos,
lambeu o fresco musgo cheio de vida;
ela deitou a cabeça no peito do que faz adormecer e
sentiu o seu batimento cardíaco.
Beijou-o e lambeu-lhe os pulsos frescos e quentes,
Então ela riu-se e bebeu vinho de Marsala e com vinho de Marsala
desenhou nas costas do que faz adormecer,
uma letra e outra letra e outra letra – Mandou que lhe
trouxessem papoilas e margaridas, algumas comeu, com outras decorou
o cabelo.
in Crème de la Crème, 2011
