Júlio de Matos Photography

REFLECTION [back]

MISTY DOURO (2001)


THE EXACT VOICE

Receive in the light all splendor of a face – an empty destiny
To occupy the world, the coincidence, the time.
The simplest invisible or the last one. And then breathe like arrows
Which cleave the air as silent shades. Breath
The most geometrical interstices of fire
That fastens the night, the barking of no land’s dogs,
The heather wave that rips the skin, the feet being doomed
In the endless gasp for breath or in the erased accuracy of parables

Ignore the maps, the surveyors enigmatic appraisals
The metaphors disorder or the enigmas indulgency
What by its shining feeds the impetus and the fall slowing down.
Find an irreducible place in the desert
An ascending path seducing the ear to patiently listen
The visible glow or deep foundation that keeps
The fleeting craft of eternity and of unruly sources

Breathe and spread the pulse, the lips, the longest
Solitude, the intimate verb, the watery devastation
That irradiates from the imploding figures .All comes
Along with the light, and in the sentence doubt is fed and inundates.

Wait until light engraves words on your head , the intense wind,
The nomad accuracy of seeing, the deflagration,
Assented the acute sign or scar - and breath.
Question the strait opened to fire’s transparency
Which culminates into exhausted darkness, into irreversible tumult.
For the tangible luminosity.
Wander errant among stages, and hammer
On amphora’s chaos, the predator mirror,
Hallucinating grammar in gods aporia
In every instant the movement rests
Imperfect and subtle, what by sound grows denser
The memory reveals louder
Harsh heavy showers which adorn
The inspiration or break up the infinite
With the thickness of errant words
Which overflows from sand and emptiness
From death and from the aqueous splendor of temptations – breath.

The world increases the noise, beats where eyes lodge
Or decays, brought by saturated light, and spreads fragile waves
Over the diffuse cliffs of quietness, a poison.
And you meditate: how to breathe decanting the secret
Labor of words by officiating cycles. How?
If the serpent touching the skin never more from the eyes disappears.

What light is the one sealing the waters.
Waving the rocks or polishing the cracks
From the unceasing tunnels. What light is the one smashing
The dust. Devouring the hallucination or ripping
The shadows for an instant. What light spreads
What disappears in visible frights.
What incontinent light enrages the animals.
Dissolves the invisible. Accelerate the temples breath

And you forget whatever hostile remains, hidden until exhaustion
And you redeem the endless heart of the earth in the intermittent
Pages of dementia. In the immense saturation of quietness
In which you dare to move. And you listen
Waiting for a Word, a sign of clarity, or
A sufficient shadow. An impious and audible rumor.
Like death that survives the poem and sings
With your inevitable voice whatever remains
In melancholy and abandonment. And you breath.
So that in your silence may germinate what voices bring
abandoned, the mysterious harmony
That shines through the blood brought by the echo,
May be unfastened the playful trace of imagery
And may it exist in its pure measure and exact nudity.

And you listen without deserting from the chords
From the poor and cold ashes a feeble and fragile
Feeling, and you breathe in the dense forest,
The labyrinth of plenitude, the brightening mystery of
The pomegranates and you create a place to make it rain,
And you spread an impossible towel and you remove
The angel of the deceit, the humid desolation,
The irreparable rescue of a scarcity labor,

And you draw in the light a luminous arc that you shelter
From beauty accent, the misty screen of the diluvian shades
Of oblivion - and you listen,
Under the skies spindle, with your tongue in flames
The exact blow of the nude voice you breathe.


Jorge Velhote,

18 de Agosto de 2009


(Translated by Sara Canelhas)


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