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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

Charles Simic - The Body

This last continent

Still to be discovered.

 

My hand is dreaming, is building

Its ship. For crew it takes

A pack of bones, for food

A beer-bottle full of blood.

 

It knows the breath that blows north.

With the breath from the west

I will sail east each night.

 

The scent of your body as it sleeps

Are the land-birds sighted at sea.

 

My touch is on the highest mast.

It cries at four in the morning

For a lantern to be lit

On the rim of the world.

Charles Simic - Nineteen Thirty-Eight

That was the year the Nazis marched into Vienna,
Superman made his debut in Action Comics,
Stalin was killing off his fellow revolutionaries,
The first Dairy Queen opened in Kankakee, Ill.,
As I lay in my crib peeing in my diapers.

 

“You must have been a beautiful baby,” Bing Crosby sang.
A pilot the newspapers called Wrong Way Corrigan
Took off from New York heading for California 
And landed instead in Ireland, as I watched my mother 
Take a breast out of her blue robe and come closer.

 

There was a hurricane that September causing a movie theater
At Westhampton Beach to be lifted out to sea.
People worried the world was about to end.
A fish believed to have been extinct for seventy million years 
Came up in a fishing net off the coast of South Africa.

 

I lay in my crib as the days got shorter and colder,
And the first heavy snow fell in the night.
Making everything very quiet in my room. 
I believe I heard myself cry for a long, long time.

Charles Simic - The Partial Explanation

Seems like a long time
Since the waiter took my order.
Grimy little luncheonette,
The snow falling outside.

 

Seems like it has grown darker
Since I last heard the kitchen door
Behind my back
Since I last noticed
Anyone pass on the street.

 

A glass of ice-water
Keeps me company
At this table I chose myself
Upon entering.

 

And a longing,
Incredible longing
To eavesdrop
On the conversation
Of cooks.