Just the rain and the word rain

Hi, folks,

Next on my series of posts for Spanish and Portuguese Reading Months, hosted by Stuart and Richard, you have three poems by Brazilian author Laura Liuzzi, translated by Rob Packer. You can find the whole series here, along with some other Brazilian gems. Enjoy!

Yours truly,

J.


lessons

it won’t scare us if there’s nothing
left over, on our tables, of
our hairlines, of our certainties.

weeks have gone by now in panic
of going back to what was one day
of going back to what might be one day.

we will die together but we have
the strange capacity to survive
and on we go, worse or better.
death is slow, collective and absurd.

a bus goes by with no known destination
obedient to the yellow stripe on the asphalt.
automatic heads, hands and legs
inside the bus that know, despite of

and perhaps out of stubbornness, how to walk.
we walk over uncertainty’s cold
hard ground. some of us even whistle.

another bus goes by and doesn’t stop
– transport is blind and has no
heart.

two bodies can never touch. between them
there will always be a vacuum – the only lesson
learnt sleeping through chemistry classes.

then a touch, an embrace, a kiss, a scratch?

I grab you, embrace you, kiss you, scratch you.
I run you down with my forwardness.
it’s death, but this about how to survive
and surviving.

(Laura Liuzzi, translated by Rob Packer. Uncollected)


Gravity

It isn’t my feet on the sand
or each morning’s insistence
it’s the interference of longing
and a man sat on the fringe of the beach
shivering
it’s the silence of the islands keeping the ocean in place
distracting that inevitable desire to escape
it’s the scaffolding put up in front of the window
fire or emergency escape –
you were my vanishing point
an angel in disguise
part wild card
with a dangerous undertow
and if I’m dragged away
I’ll tell you I’m an ocean liner
unshakeable
haughty, with my eyelids halfway across my eyes.
This isn’t my feet on the street
I promise you ships don’t have feet.
It’s my astronautical soul.

(Laura Liuzzi, translated by Rob Packer. Source: Desalinho, 2014)


Deep

It rains –
it rains even on the fish.
The body sinks
quiet, slow, alive.
Body exiled within itself
vibrating rock, sufficient
under the indifference of the sky.

Coral-corporeal: corridor
of electric fish, but
quiet, slow, alive
in the depth of the sky
they are stars are straits
and it’s nothing:
just the rain and the word rain.

(Laura Liuzzi, translated by Rob Packer. Source: Desalinho, 2014)


Anonymous. Vintage 19th c. marbled paper, Turkish pattern.
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2 Comments Add yours

  1. bookbii says:

    Gorgeous poems, thanks for sharing these. Not a writer I’ve encountered before, but I’d be keen to look her up now.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Belinda! Her books are yet to be translated! 🙂

      Like

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