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the power of the landscape corrupts the text,
it penetrates its frailty.
the game of the tactile, of the glowing, of the scenic tension
of your name –
so tense is it, that it isn’t displayable –
but i can always display this photograph,
not on walls as in times past, but
i can still ingrain it into your subconscious through the feed of
your wall on one of those social networks where there’s no place for debate
since each person is the dictator of his own reality, which might even be
convenient
were we able to be solely confronted by that which doesn’t
shock us.
let me rejoice with the power to see you and the power to know you see me,
thus i am an image, i am fleshy matter, i am back and shoulders and eyelids,
i exist because light exists.
allow me to upload this existence directly into the deepest
memory
of your libido.
it’s probably simpler. words are the business of poets.
© Translated by Ana Hudson, 2013
First Published on Poems From the Portuguese
it penetrates its frailty.
the game of the tactile, of the glowing, of the scenic tension
of your name –
so tense is it, that it isn’t displayable –
but i can always display this photograph,
not on walls as in times past, but
i can still ingrain it into your subconscious through the feed of
your wall on one of those social networks where there’s no place for debate
since each person is the dictator of his own reality, which might even be
convenient
were we able to be solely confronted by that which doesn’t
shock us.
let me rejoice with the power to see you and the power to know you see me,
thus i am an image, i am fleshy matter, i am back and shoulders and eyelids,
i exist because light exists.
allow me to upload this existence directly into the deepest
memory
of your libido.
it’s probably simpler. words are the business of poets.
© Translated by Ana Hudson, 2013
First Published on Poems From the Portuguese
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