26.2.07
Poemas favoritos LXII
Favorite poems LXII
Saudosa Amnésia
Paulo Leminski
Memória é coisa recente.
Até ontem, quem lembrava?
A coisa veio antes,
ou, antes, foi a palavra?
Ao perder a lembrança,
grande coisa não se perde.
Nuvens, são sempre brancas.
O mar? Continua verde.
***
Piute CreekGary Snyder
One granite ridge
A tree, would be enough
Or even a rock, a small creek,
A bark shred in a pool.
Hill beyond hill, folded and twisted
tough trees crammed
In thin stone fractures
A huge moon on it all, is too much.
The mind wanders. A million
Summers, night air still and the rocks
Warm. Sky over endless mountains.
All the junk that goes with being human
Drops away, hard rock wavers
Even the heavy present seems to fail
This bubble of a heart.
Words and books
Like a small creek off a high ledge
Gone in the dry air.
