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2009-12-08 14:09:20
Saturday 14:13:36
July 16 2022

From Amazonia to New York

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words 638 read in 3 minutes, 11 Seconds

Tree from you I have taken the wild pain

those cries, in the air in the river

Animals flee from the shelter of your branches

deafening noises of monkeys and araras

the upright trunk, falls as it blackens.

The sloth moves slowly, quietly

the ariranha and the tamanduá

ears pricked at each sound

trees tell their stories

life when it is submerged

underwater among the fish

feeding off fruit

already at sunset noises get louder

stunned birds cry out

in the trees

the jaburus the macucus the inhambu.

in the underbrush the wind is still

long ago in a time of vibrant,

pubescent colours, water-swollen

today is yellow, green at the beginning.

bones, pieces of wood, thousands of insects

They light a blinding fire

who can pull out this headless arrow?

where can that evil be deposed?

everywhere on earth

noises interfere, memories of the dead

the sky that accompanies us today

has no stars.

will the face of pain disappear?

vibrations make air fertile
thunder booms and lightning flashes
Everything blazes: Shower of blossoms
mangabas, cajú waves of breeze
the giant trees in the forest know
a tongue of fire that destroys them
before by the great river cobras would appear,
boicininga, jiboias, alligators,
the jaguar, the yellow-brown lynx,
the branches crowded with parrots
iguana, irara, an the sloth
jabutí, the bog turtle
the caititú, the chestnut-haired boar
the shrieks of the crying monkeys
the voices of thousands of birds.
the outline of memory takes shape: it is waves
the wood lives along with the fire.
everything is flying: bird-leaves
leaf-butterflies colour-light
on the tree-tops
the black eyes, the power of condor
tanato, the small gull
a bird-nest his house
that fluttering among the boughs
it is his wings
nothing hinders. The forest keeps falling
the cries the wars, the dead
A ravine, a smoke halo
nothing breathes
precious bird, alive and singing
turn on a world of visions with your song
rare fruits do not open to ripen
the soul of the forest takes hold of the universe
trees show their entrails
the body, the sprouts covered with green grains
the roots, the oblong leaves
with nervatures and veins
and the little animals, the humming-birds dance
zechirino, cross the country of the shadows
the wind among the leaves starts making itself heard
it confounds itself with other echoes
capeba whos born from the waters
feels its leaves licked by the fire
it buckles, all swollen and wounded
it breathes: life is still here
still for a while, keep on
breathing, do not stop
breathe, breathe, keep going
still here the origin of life


Metallic trees full of gold and silver
they touch the clouds, and your dreams.
A metallic bird crosses the sky
flying flying, goes on goes on, where where?
the metallic bird becomes an arrow
breaks down the crystal trees
the face of pain hurls its cry
running down the walls.
I want to remember various stories
memories of unburied dead
Names are born, offerings to those who left
and the heart of the giant tree
crumbles and reassembles, endless matter
A cloud of dust waves
inside the body of the wind
its voice is piercing.
The greediness of the fire
pierces through the roots of the sun
suffocating black clouds
red-hot clouds over the world
a roar of engines, saws, axes
Music and forlorn imaginary circles
clouds and yellow dust moving
From the broken tree-trunks metal fragments burst out
asbestos threads, blood runnels, souls.
From the Hudson Bay dolphins
call for light and harmony
the beginning of a new way of thinking
an army of ants in a row
is carrying off its leaves like souls.

Márcia Theóphilo
Rome, 11/09/2001 (English version by Riccardo Duranti)

Copyrighted Material, For questions or comments, please contact - authors Márcia Theóphilo

Source by Redazione

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