Pedro Abrunhosa & Alma Novaes

 

Essay of your name translated into a thousand

I saw the light in the act of being born

that I have become a stone, a stick, a mountain,

I who was the fruit of your mouth,

tearing the virginity of the palate

I who was your clothes 

and your shoe, the ornament of the

Your science, the broth of necessity

covering your cold from the cliffs 

from the valley of death, 

your consort is a gunwale,

that there was a time, that, 

now cruel, once beautiful and elusive

in which I ennobled myself 

Encouragement by your side

And I was the most loved of women

that after that, 

In the age of losing you 

I blackened my sutures

From birth, I let myself die,

I have broken the tract of the heights,

when your distance has imposed itself,

and knew how to tear me inside,

Became long and cold, bullet,

bomb, hecatomb, hideous wound,

That I never resigned, I never bent

I did not even regret your figure, 

I see myself in the outbreak 

of exhausting myself, 

In search of your lap

I who am from far and near

I who have come to you 

by divine decree

I rehearse my steps today

And only my pain of not having you

translates color, this wall 

who won't let me reach you, 

You the ripe fruit

the color of what I nourish, beloved coffin

of the divine halo

of the peace that comes after war 

that in due time

will be sealed,

will cover me with earth

In the color of your name that is of life

which is of pain, of suffering, 

of ointment and hard, endures,

in this wait, 

of hopelessness, breaking

The dock of my eyes

in your unequals,

I was the one who was born 

and died a thousand times

by pronouncing your name

I didn't know how to run out 

how much you miss me,

In the allowed longing 

to each god

I'm the one who rehearses myself 

To leave this house

that is not mine and that, 

Finally, I understand

that love is what makes us live, 

And for him I have died

So many lives, so many times

wasting away against the den

of your ghost,

In the absence of your arms

I wanted to see 

Your King's Crown

in every beggar 

That passed me by

I don't know who I am anymore

I'm still lost, sentinel

beggar, a clothed soul

of the light that saw you depart,

I stand at the window,

rehearsing, in the image of the retina

The principle of effect

divestment

of what death and rebirth were

and now, in that alley, 

curtain curls

The dog passes, the wind coughs

And nothing or almost nothing stops you

except my mouth 

that rounds up

to let go of memory, 

the mark of your presence, the figure

Conical of your name in my mouth

That you are my home, that you are

My window, my virtue

my relatives, and in this nothingness

When I became you

I finally dispose of the cloak

Of the sorrow that goes 

beyond punishment

and prostrated me hostage to this love,

of this size, of this ship, port, 

Name, Causa Majeure, Faustino

I let go of the gunwale, I lift the anchor

That I'm not from here, I'm from love

I don't see the world, 

I don't want anything

That is not your name worn out

through the saliva of my mouth

to serve as a home. 

Faustino, I wear your name

Experiment with phonetics

In the sound of the experiment of love,

now, land, rough sea,

Destiny, star and joy

You, growing slowly in the firmament