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Filtering by Tag: Jeffrey Childs

Two Poems, Camilo Pessanha

Nuno Amado

Phonograph, translation Jeffrey Childs


       Still performing is a dead comedian.

The audience laughs hysterically

At the old fogy… And in the air is a scent

Of death and dust – the anachronic question.


       The register changes, there’s a barcarola:

Lilies, lilies, river waters, the moon.

Before His body my dream floats above

These marshlands – ecstatic corolla.


       It changes again: the chirpings, the refrain

Of a golden horn – the scent of jonquils,

Vivid and pungent! – trumpeting the dawn…


       It ceased. And, loving, the soul of the cornets

Came to an end, dewy and obscure.

Spring. Morning. What effusion of violets!

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