C. R. Tsiailistranslated to Portuguese by Joao DinizThere's a beautiful town, majestic
a town that splits the earth in two with tail in Europe legs in Africa and always the head looking at Americas you are always there your soul is surfing on the huge waves your soul inside the huge mouth of Montego. On the roofs of the town you have loved forever the flowers of time and the lost moment are sleeping the cats of pain, relief and silence are sleeping the flowers open -- the cats jump and you are standing on the lowest house always thinking about the Atlantic why are you sorry, why in pain, what are you waiting for? why don't you jump? Start doing the parkour jump like a leopard from roof to roof, again, jump from fence to fence sweetly kiss the girls, take the boys with you higher, one with the Figueira sky a company again on the shores to play football with the guys the buildings as you move in time will be higher as long as you cut the flowers and you make a bouquet it will be higher, it will be even closer on the sand, in the castles of your dreams when you were young, fearless bulls when you touched with your tiptoes the salty water for the first time and from the fingers you licked the flavours that the Amazon sent so that you want to go … to go… Why don't you jump, I shall give you wings I shall turn you into The Figueira Angel the old ladies are looking for you as they lay their clothes on the balconies the grandpas in the colourful coffee shops are looking high they are looking for you they want to know you are flying they are singing with you in the rhythm of joy the knights are saluting from the stone castles it is time you did it, close your ears to the sirens of melancholia the girls of Portugal are looking for you they want to see your reflection on the waves the perfect human god at Figueira Da Foz with the flowers, with the cats with the roofs unified from now on a grand stadium, a neighbourhood as we all play together the game of sorrow and joy the game of water and soil the game of loss and victory the game of life. Come, it is only a jump. Figueira da Foz - Jogos Da Água E Do Solo É uma cidade linda, encantadora uma cidade que divide a terra em dois com a cauda na Europa, pés em áfrica e sempre olhando para a cabeça para a América Tu estás sempre lá, tua alma a surfar ondas enormes, Nos telhados da cidade que sempre amaste tua alma na boca do enorme Mondego. Nos telhados da cidade que sempre amaste as flores do tempo e os momentos perdidos estão a dormir os gatos da dôr, alivio e silêncio estão a dormir, as flores abrem—os gatos saltam e tu estás de pé na casa mais baixa sempre a pensar no atlântico. Porquê te lamentas, porquê na dôr, o quê que estás a espera? porquê que não saltas? Começa a fazer parkour salta como um gato selvagem de telhado em telhado, novamente, salta de cerca em cerca beija as raparigas docemente, leva os rapazes contigo mais alto, um com o céu da Figueira nas margens serão um bando outra vez para jogar futebol com os rapazes com o passar do tempo os prédios ficam mais altos enquanto cortas as flores e fazes um bouquet, será mais alto será ainda mais perto na areia,no castelo dos teus sonhos quando eras jovem, touros destemidos quando tocaste com a ponta dos pés água salgada pela primeira vez. e dos dedos lambeste os sabores enviados pelo amazonas. fazendo-te querer ir…ir… Porquê que não saltas, eu dou-te asas transformo-te no anjo da Figueira as velhas olham para ti enquanto os avós sentados nos cafés coloridos, estendem a roupa na varanda olham para cima procurando por ti eles querem saber que estás a voar eles cantam contigo em ritmo de alegria os cavaleiros acenam dos castelos de pedra será hora de fazê-lo fecha os ouvidos das sirenes da melancolia. as raparigas da figueira procuram por ti, elas querem ver o teu reflexo nas ondas. o perfeito deus humano com telhados mais unidos, com flores,com gatos, na Figueira da Foz o jogo de perder e ganhar, a jogar juntos o jogo de tristeza e alegria o jogo da água e do solo um estádio enorme, um bairro, o jogo da vida. Anda, é apenas um salto. Φιγκέρα Ντα Φοζ – Παιχνίδια Του Νερού Και Του Χώματος Είναι μια πόλη ωραία, μαγευτική μια πόλη που μοιράζει στα δύο τη γη, με την ουρά στην Ευρώπη, τα πόδια Αφρική και πάντα το κεφάλι να κοιτάει Αμερική είσαι πάντα εκεί, η ψυχή σου σερφάρει στα τεράστια κύματα, η ψυχή σου στο τεράστιο στόμα του Μοντέγκο Στις στέγες της πόλης που αγάπησες για πάντα κοιμούνται τα λουλούδια του χρόνου και της χαμένης στιγμής κοιμούνται οι γάτες του πόνου, της ανακούφισης και της σιωπής, τα λουλούδια ανοίγουν – οι γάτες πηδάνε κι εσύ στέκεσαι στο σπίτι το πιο χαμηλό σκέφτεσαι πάντα τον Ατλαντικό γιατί λυπάσαι, γιατί πονάς, τι περιμένεις, γιατί δεν πηδάς; Άρχισε να κάνεις το παρκούρ πήδα σαν αίλουρος από στέγη σε στέγη ξανά, πήδα από κάγκελο σε κάγκελο, φίλα τα κορίτσια γλυκά, πάρε μαζί σου τα αγόρια ακόμη πιο ψηλά, ένα με τον ουρανό του Φιγκέρα θα γίνετε στις ακτές παρέα ξανά να παίζετε ποδόσφαιρο με τα παιδιά, τα κτίρια όσο προχωράς στον χρόνο θα είναι πιο ψηλά, όσο κόβεις τα λουλούδια και φτιάχνεις μπουκέτο, θα είναι ψηλότερα, θα είναι ακόμη πιο κοντά, στην αμμουδιά, στα κάστρα των ονείρων σου σαν ήσασταν νεαροί ατρόμητοι ταύροι, όταν αγγίζατε με τις μύτες των δακτύλων το αλμυρό νερό πρώτη φορά, και απ’ τα δάκτυλα γλύφατε τις γεύσεις που έστελνε ο Αμαζόνιος για να θέλεις πάντα να πας, να πας, να πας ... Γιατί δεν πηδάς, θα σου δώσω φτερά, θα σε κάνω του Φιγκέρα τον άγγελο, σε ψάχνουν οι μεγάλες κυρίες σαν απλώνουν στα μπαλκόνια τα ρούχα, ψηλά κοιτάνε οι παππούδες από τα έγχρωμα καφενεία, ψάχνουν εσένα, θέλουν να ξέρουν ότι πετάς, τραγουδάνε μαζί σου στο ρυθμό της χαράς, σε χαιρετάνε οι ιππότες από τα λίθινα κάστρα, είναι καιρός να το κάνεις, κλείσε τ’ αυτιά σου στις σειρήνες της μελαγχολίας, σε ψάχνουν τα κορίτσια της Πορτογαλίας θέλουν να δούνε στα κύματα την αντανάκλασή σου τον τέλειο άνθρωπο θεό, στο Φιγκέρα Ντα Φοζ, με τα λουλούδια, με τις γάτες με τις στέγες πια ενωμένες, ένα τεράστιο γήπεδο, μια γειτονιά, να παίζουμε όλοι μαζί το παιχνίδι της θλίψης και της χαράς το παιχνίδι του νερού και του χώματος το παιχνίδι του χαμού και της νίκης, το παιχνίδι της ζωής. Έλα, είναι μόνο ένα άλμα. |
So we travel on earth seeking the terrain of Poetry, walking through wilderness and empty landscape or visiting those ancient sites like Dholavira in far-western Gujarat, or Mykenai in the Greek Peloponnese, or the Arawak campsite on eastern Carriacou in the Grenadine Windward Isles, pursuing that authenticity of experience in a form of antique material reality...
These are places, strange and vague situations where death is manifold and thoroughly extant to the careful eye. There are women’s bangles made of shell to be picked up from the saline dust or small copper beads and thin chert blades, or tiny obsidian arrow-heads that can be unhidden and disclosed beneath those bloody grey walls about the Lion Gate, or beautiful indented potsherds and ceramic fragments at the waterline where the Atlantic rolls out its long blue visceral waves...
Kevin McGrath 🐚Yoga of Poetry
“Dare to live the life you have dreamed."
Ralph Waldo Emerson
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