MARIA DO SAMEIRO BARROSO

MARIA DO SAMEIRO BARROSO

Heavenly Leprosy

I speak about the quay, the alleys, the heavenly leprosy

from a verse by Paul Celan

ripping the wounds

with the face hidden in time.

I speak of mediumistic organs, suspended diaphragms,

cloves of water,

and of the body divided into white citadels.

One day, I climbed the silent trees and visited

the underground malls

towards the timeless katabasis.

I visited squares, streets, broad galleries,

I woke up with blueberries and,

led by some supreme being,

I visited the land of the dead, bound by bile;

the navel cut in the ice chords.

One day, carried away by the secret omens

and the braids of rain, I climbed up

to the palaces, to the heavenly mansions;

the black enzymes working out

the mysterious chemistry of blue alveoli

among corpses already liquefied;

devoured bodies shining under the starry sky

fully pouring darkest ashes.

One day —

the blackbirds chatted in a strange tongue.

In the gentle slopes echoed murmuring waters,

white melodies, feverish meninges.

The dead moved on white slopes

between sweet dates and deserts.

On the wings, temples and bright oases,

covered with wheat and lymph,

blackbirds devoured my body,

offering my name to some nocturnal god,

between capricious crevices

and libations of an ancient moonlight.

 

Hemlock Flowers

I am a name uttered among

white stars,

facing your hands, the world,

a shipwreck of harps,

a broken mask;

you are a sound of violins

echoing in the woods.

I am the bright melody,

the dark sandalwood,

a name they want to steal from you

between honeysuckle, rosemary,

cynical grimaces,

poisoned syrops

and white hemlock flowers.

Evergreen Ivy

One day, someone was knocking

on my tomb.

Why don’t you get out?

- someone said.

- How can I reply other than

with the black verses

of that first crippled Spring?

I was dreaming – I know.

But the dream still returns,

as in the past,

when dreams were tombs

where verses got bogged down

and my vineyards were blocked

in sober silence.

Then, the spells of light started

moving slowly.

Out of the darkness, I started

by writing about my uneasy,

secret, absolute body,

back into the orchards of life

where I met you,

by climbing

branches of evergreen ivy.

MARIA DO SAMEIRO BARROSO

MARIA DO SAMEIRO BARROSO (Portugal) is a medical doctor and a multilingual poet, translator, essayist and researcher in Portuguese and German Literature, translations studies and History of Medicine. She has authored over 40 books of poetry, published in Portugal, Brazil, Spain, France, Serbia, Belgium, Albany, USA, and translations and essays. Her poems are translated into over twenty languages. She was awarded the Prize of the Académie Européene des Sciences, des Arts et des Lettres (AESAL) 2020.