Mar 5
Shininfleeing Star[1]
May the star answer the dreams — Of those who can and know to dream…
Bright Star of Promise
I chased her last year
Almost there, she fled from me among many,
Other stars, in the north,
Where I heard she’d come from.
One more time, and this one,
Leaving me overwhelmed
One more among many
Me from the south
Waiting for her to help me.
Star, my star,
Is there anyone prettier than me?
If you answer, I don’t even want to know.
Neither blonde nor blue eyes,
Instead of pines, ipês*
In this homeland to the fulgid rays
In the shade of a palm tree;
No cold or snow
On hot sand we walk.
Your sisters from down here, in clear sky,
No frills or bullshit
In brilliance, brilliantly,
Made my blinders fall apart:
- Forget that one, she’s
Sober, serious, blazing rays,
She aloof, a foreign deaf
But I insist, I don’t give up,
I wait, senses alert,
Before time, impatient
Cause everything is already
Agitated in these shores;
Bustle, shop windows, parties, apparatus,
Hope, dream, everything sticks,
Colouring much of the grey life.
So, as predicted,
In the manger, window open,
Dream that comes, like a shooting star,
Soon a flash will guide Mages
Modern, on rocket or jet,
Leave gold, frankincense and myrrh,
Waking up,
The sleeping child.
Noble bed in canopy
That wealth is an omen
Single bed cheap sheet,
Straw, hammock, pallet, mat,
paper-lined bench,
Be what be the manger
Polar or Lucid, without jealousy,
Send Mages in droves
In what is your nest
Gifts all around, in plethora,
Stockpile for the whole year,
Of joy and affection
May console you when you cry,
Wake the captive child.
Until then, shininfleeing star.
.
[1] I read, here on Medium, a beautiful poem by a she-poet who says that poetry is Language, it cannot be translated. I commented, agreeing, but saying that I’m not a poet, I only write poems that can look like poetry. That’s why I dare to translate Fulginte Estrela.
