I FEEL THE DEAD
—Sophia de Mello Breyner
I feel the dead in the cold of violets
And that great vagueness in the moon.
The earth is doomed to be a ghost,
She who rocks all death in herself.
I know I sing at the edge of silence,
I know I dance around suspension,
Possess around dispossession.
I know I pass around the mute dead
And hold within myself my own death.
But I have lost my being in so many beings,
Died my life so many times,
Kissed my ghosts so many times,
Known nothing of my acts so many times,
That death will be simply like going
From inside the house into the street.
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Sophia de Mello Breyner is a Portuguese poet, born in 1919, who began publishing in 1944 and has received the Grand Prize in Poetry of the Portuguese Society of Writers. These poems today were translated from the Portuguese by Ruth Fainlight and published in The Vintage Book of Contemporary World Poetry, ed. by J.D. McClatchy, Vintage Books, 1996.
I think we all feel the dead these days; James DenBoer writes that everyone seems out of sorts, as we all reverberate with the troubles of our tribe. There are plenty of opportunities to help. Richard Hansen writes that "Tuesday's Hurricane Relief Benefit at HQ raised $890! Astonishing..." Founder J. Greenberg says "I also wanted to add my personal thanks to those of you in the poetry community who performed, attended, and donated. Thank you Bob Stanley, Rhony Bhopla, Crawdad Nelson, Robert Roden, Gene Bloom, Sandi Wasserman, Annie Menebroker and every other poetic spirit there!"
James Lee Jobe is reading here, there and everywhere this weekend. Catch him tonight (9/9) at The Other Voice in Davis, Unitarian Church, 27074 Patwin Road, Davis, 7:30, hosted by the irrepressible Allegra Silberstein. Tomorrow night, he will read with Susan Kelly-DeWitt and Sandra McPherson to celebrate Charlie McDonald's new book, El Sobrante: Selected Poems 1975-2005 from Swan Scythe Press at The Avid Reader, 617 Second Street, Davis (Info: 530-758-4040), 7:30.
DAY OF SEA
—Sophia de Mello Breyner
Day of sea in the sky, made
From shadows and horses and plumes.
Day of sea in my room—cube
Where my sleepwalker's movements slide
Between animal and flower, like medusas.
Day of sea in the sea, high day
Where my gestures are seagulls who lose themeselves
Spiralling over the clouds, over the spume.
_______________________
BEACH
—Sophia de Mello Breyner
The pines moan when the wind passes
The sun beats on the earth and the stones burn.
Fantastic sea gods stroll at the edge of the world
Crusted with salt and brilliant as fishes.
Sudden wild birds hurled
Against the light into the sky like stones
Mount and die vertically
Their bodies taken by space.
The waves butt as if to smash the light
Their brows ornate with columns.
And an ancient nostalgia of being a mast
Sways in the pines.
_____________________
One more:
THE FLUTE
—Sophia de Mello Breyner
In the room's corner the shadow played its little flute
It was then I remembered the cisterns and sea-nettles
And the mortal glitter of the naked beach
Night's ring was solemnly place on my finger
And the silent fleet continued its immemorial journey.
___________________________
Thanks, Sophia!
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets.