A ᴘʀᴀɪᴀ

(Deífilo Gurgel)

Daqui partiram rudes marinheiros,

para as grandes viagens e aventuras,

com suas mãos de mar, calosas, duras,

rasgando novos rumos e roteiros.

Aqui sonharam ternas criaturas,

em noites de luar sob os luzeiros,

das cúmplices estrelas nas alturas

e a farfalhante brisa dos coqueiros.

A praia é testemunha da passagem

dos homens, pelos séculos, na viagem

para os distantes e invisíveis portos.

E o pé que hoje a palmilha, é o mesmo pé

de antigos ancestrais, mortos na fé,

mortos no amor, onipresentes mortos.

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Wow. That hits hard. How haunting. And that's in translation. The original must be devastating.

I was only aware of the existence of this poem a few days ago. It amazes me. This theme of ominipresence of the dead evoked an interesting «lecture» at an UNESCO conference by this author, which fiatjaf appreciates too. Unfortunatly, politics obscured his most fascinating works.

If one day you have interest and time, read it:

https://olavodecarvalho.org/les-plus-exclus-des-exclus/

I will check it out.

The ᴘʀᴀɪᴀ

(Deifilo Gurgel)

From here departed rough sailors,

for great journeys and adventures,

with his sea hands, calloused, hard,

breaking new ground and routes.

Here tender creatures dreamed,

on moonlit nights under the lights,

of the accomplices stars in the heights

and the rustling breeze of the coconut trees.

The beach is witness to the passage

of men, through the centuries, on the journey

to the distant and invisible ports.

And the foot that insoles it today is the same foot

of ancient ancestors, dead in the faith,

dead in love, omnipresent dead.

Supostamente hoje seria Dia Mundial da Poesia. Ninguém liga, mas aproveito a ocasião pra publicar de novo essa jóia aqui:

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