terça-feira, 30 de junho de 2009

Lecy - Without end We will make poems - part II

Abaixo, a tradução de Poemaremos sem Fim - Parte II feita pelo inominável writer Leonardo de Magalhaens


Without end We will make poems

Woken sleepy in another part of the History

Loading the blemish of very modern

We will make poems praising any poets of the 1800s

Making crèche little cows made of biscuit

Evoking the dragon's rage of the knight Shiryu

Sitting on the Barbie doll

Paying attention to somebody on a reality show

Importuning a community of little ants

crossing the wall

Reading the Psalmos the Lusíadas The Decameron Tales

When we examinate the Book of the Dead men and

the Bible of Cinema

When Jupiter will be in Mars and the moon in Pluto

Wearing perfumed condoms and pants samba-canção

Dissolving poets whom they want to be remembered

From now to thousand years into half glass of water

Aged into oak tonnels

We will make poems thinking is that good poet that

sleeps on our bed

That takes off poems from the rib from the foam of the sea

That eats the Good Hope Cape and picks the teeth

That farts making rhymes making a sonnet

That fucks and wakes up climbing a trapeze

We will make poems clothed by the lack of inspiration

Erectus insurrectus antipyretics

Convicted of that the world is so beautiful

And there is no virus accidents murders

Everybody write poems and they are so humble

The poets accept themselves and change kind letters

Santa Claus grant all of their wishes

Happiness is so great that we live crying

We will weave poems consuming and being consumed

Sure that somebody keep looking for our organs

That somebody will pull out us crying from the womb

That other somebody will care our bones

Then of us remaining a palid remembrance

in the memory of somebody who surpasses our end

In a tortuous poem that without wanting we write

Looking at a bonfire over the earth so ardent

Feeling the wind whistling on our face

Besides the dew over showy leaves burst out

We arise rarefied reinvented

In an imprecise cut of time

With having its veins burst

Externates our verbal overflow

Printed by laser or inkjet printer

But it is still not the end

Because we will make poems we will make poems

We will make poems we will make poems make poems

translation by Leonardo de Magalhaens


Postar um comentário