My hands are in search of yours
pushing me into you
for a new beginning.
Virtutes&Vitia
“On this hand,
I say goodbye”I fear not being able
to hold this hand
that assuaged my cravingI fear that my choices
repel me from this heat
that escapes through my fingersMild and unrelated
the words fail on their attempt
to look for any explanationAbsent, then, the light becomes
Empty, my eyes are
Coz dizzy is my heartBut I must leave them into memories
to feed the love I left behind
without hesitation, but full of regrets
“Hands”
Concave to have
Long for desire
Fresh of abandon
Consumed by wonder
Restless to play and not hold
by Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen
translated by Virtutes&Virtia
Give me your hand
Give me your hand,
Let my loneliness
prolong even more yours
- so here two holding hands
in the starry nights,
to see the ghosts dancing in the moon.Give me your hand, mate,
until the Abyss of Last Tenderness.
by José Gomes Ferreira
translated by Virtutes&Virtia
Eyes on earth, thou shalt come
on the rhythm of the Spring itself,
and like flowers and animals
thou shalt open in the hands
of whom expects thee.
translated by Virtutes&Virtia
“On this hand,
I say goodbye”
I fear not being able
to hold this hand
that assuaged my craving
I fear that my choices
repel me from this heat
that escapes through my fingers
Mild and unrelated
the words fail on their attempt
to look for any explanation
Absent, then, the light becomes
Empty, my eyes are
Coz dizzy is my heart
But I must leave them into memories
to feed the love I left behind
without hesitation, but full of regrets
It’s your hand
that gathers me
from loneliness
awaking me
from dark silences
It’s your palm
that involves me
with joy
and comforts me
with sympathy
It’s on your fingertips
I cling
to count the hours
I nestle
to get lost in time
There is Peace and War
There on your hands
Are mine
As weapons in home
Preparing
To fight for love
And these weapons
Never get tired
Defending the fields
Of your body
What more does a man need unless a piece of the sea – and a boat with the name of a friend, and a line and a hook to fish?
And while fishing, while waiting, what else does a man need unless his hands, one to the reed another to the chin, which is for him get lost in the infinite, and a bottle of rum to pull sadness, and some thought to think until getting lost in endless…What more does a man need unless a piece of land – a very green piece of land – and a house, not big, bright white, with an orchard and a modest kitchen garden, and a garden – a garden that is important – loaded with flowers to smell?
And while living, while waiting, what else does a man need unless his hands to touch the ground and scratching some guitar’s chords when the night is made of moonlight, and a bottle of whiskey to pull mystery, that house without mystery does not value live…What more does a man need unless a friend to like, a very dry friend, very simple, those who do not even need to talk – just look – one of those who decry a little bit the friendship, a friend to peace and to fight, a friend of peace and for pub?
And while passing, while waiting, what else does a man unless his hands to shake hands after the friend’s absence, and to pat on the back of his friend, and to discuss with friends and to serve willingness drinks to the friend?What more does a man need unless a woman to love, a woman with two breasts and a belly, and a certain unique expression?
And while thinking, while waiting, what else does a man need unless a woman’s affection when sadness knocks him down, or the fate carries in its wave aimlessly?Yes, what else does a man need unless his hands and the woman – the only free things that will remain to fight for sea, for land, for friend…
translated by Virtutes&Virtia
