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3 Poems Translated by Calvin Olsen


Second Life

I’ve come to the end

of the fountain pen refill you gave me
after a rainy day of wrestling
a poem. These drops have no desire to fall

along the afternoon’s wet periphery—
they remain suspended there hoping others

will go first (it takes the weight 

of accumulated grief 

to convince a drop of rain 

to willingly become a tear). I’m searching

through this next refill

in case it contains some second life

holding it up to illuminate whatever it holds

(inside the refill: ink

inside the ink: the color black). Whether the

next refill brings another answer

I cannot say 

it’s slippery.

 

Segunda parte da vida 

Chegou ao fim

a recarga da caneta que me deste

depois de um dia de chuva a

lutar contra o poema. Do lado molhado da tarde

as gotas não querem descer –

ficam suspensas à espera que outras

se venham somar (é necessário

um peso de

mágoa acumulada para

que uma gota de chuva se disponha

a ser lágrima). Procuro na nova recarga a

segunda parte da vida

erguendo-a para alumiar o que possa conter

(dentro da recarga: tinta

dentro da tinta: a cor negra). Que a

recarga seguinte traga sempre a solução

não posso dizer que

é líquido.

 

 

 


 The Sin Sieve

to Carmen and

Durval Carvalho de Barros

 

During the homily God made a few calls

to three or

four of the faithful. What could it be that God wants? If

He has something to say concerning Salvation

let him speak openly—

wine wetting the Word

in the words of the vicar (who one expects 

to hand out equal chance to us all)

unless

God wants to pack in the penances

(punishing omissions at the sin sieve:

the smallest easily passing through

to the priest’s side

the thicker ones insisting on hiding themselves

out here).

 

 

O coador de pecados

à Carmen e

ao Durval Carvalho de Barros

 

Durante a homilia Deus ligou diretamente

a três ou

quatro fiéis. O que será que Deus queria? Se

Ele tem algo a dizer acerca da Salvação

que fale abertamente –

vinho molhando a Palavra

nas palavras do vigário (de quem se espera

libere igual chance a toda a gente)

a menos que

Deus quisesse agravar penitências

(castigando omissões ao coador de pecados:

os mais pequenos passando fácil

para o lado do padre

os mais grosseiros teimando em se esconder

deste lado).

 

 

 


Lines on Duration

You 

have to be waiting in order to notice

(that makeshift moment won’t announce itself)

all of a sudden you are inside it

inside an elongated

present. Nothing amiss around you (warmth

this place a

friend) things you’d gathered

just in case

of. When that moment arrives don’t let it

slip away (you lack the power

to bring it back). It’s the afternoon’s offering

to the fill the hole in the day they call it epiphany but

it’s so much more than that.

You have to lie in wait in order to intuit it—

this indivisible instant (unfathomable

picturesque) now

dissolving flesh and time in a

chemical happiness.

 

 

Linhas sobre a duração

É

preciso estar à espera para o poder perceber

(esse instante provisório não se faz anunciar)

de súbito estás dentro dele

num prolongado

presente. Nada falta em teu redor (calor

o lugar uma

amiga) coisas que foste juntando já

para o caso

de. Quando o momento chegar não deixes

que se dissipe (não está em ti o poder de

o fazeres regressar). É uma oferta da tarde

à revelia do dia chamam-lhe epifania mas

é muito mais do que isso.

É preciso estar à espera para o poder intuir –

esse instante indivisível (insondável

fotográfico) que

dissolve carne e tempo numa

alegria química.

 

 

 


Calvin Olsen’s poetry and translations have appeared in AGNI, Asymptote, The London Magazine, The National Poetry Review, and Poet Lore, among many others. He lives in North Carolina, where he is a doctoral student and the poetry editor at The Carolina Quarterly. More work can be found at www.calvin-olsen.com.

 

João Luís Barreto Guimarães is a reconstructive plastic surgeon and author of eleven poetry books, the most recent of which are Movimento (Movement, Quetzal, 2020) and Nómada (Nomad, 2018), which recently won Portugal’s Armando da Silva Carvalho Literary Prize and was named the 2019 Poetry Book of the Year by Livraria Bertrand (the oldest bookstore on earth). 

 

 

 



One response to “3 Poems Translated by Calvin Olsen”

  1. Paula Harlow says:
    July 23, 2021 at 2:17 am

    Thank you for sharing Calvin. It’s three a.m. and sleep escapes me. How wonderful it was to open Facebook and find these poems. Loved reading them.

    Reply

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