Special Ekphrastic Poetry Showcase: ​Salgado Maranhao, on Will Barnet, Translated by Alexis Levitin

Peter Grimes, by Will Barnet (USA) 1983/All artwork shown in this post Artwork ©Will Barnet Foundation, courtesy Alexandre Gallery, New York.

​Peter Grimes
 
O infinito esta nos olhos
que são cofres do desejo
e desliza em nossa pele
como a memória de um beijo.
 
Habitamos lado a lado
a experiência do olhar
e estamos divididos
na incerteza do havido.
 
No horizonte de tela
o tempo é quase um  tormento
que se desfaz sem ser visto
nas cores de pensamento.
 
Cravados dentro do hoje
nos assistimos passar,
como se o tempo corresse
sem nos tirar do lugar.
 

​​Peter Grimes
 
Infinity is in our eyes,
coffers filled with desire,
and gentle on our skin it glides,
a remembered kiss, a cooling fire.
 
Side by side we share,
the experience of our gaze,
but doubt of what is there
separates our ways.
 
On the horizon of the canvas
time’s lament is caught,
then melts away unnoticed
in the colours of a thought.
 
We accompany our own passing
tied to that other day
as if time were flowing on
without dragging us away.

Ariadne ll, by Will Barnet (USA) 1980

Ariadne II, 1980
 
Deixem-na sozinha
com seus corvos,
narrando a liturgia
do mistério;
 
                        sob a pérgula
dessa tarde
                        anfibia
em que o céu é tórrido
lamento.
 
Deixem-na reger
seus pássaros
                        --reclusa--
em seu cerco
de alusões.
 
Quem poderá guardar
a dádiva desse fruto,
que é rebento e fábula?
 
O que reluz brota
dos olhos
               --face ao inexistente-
sob as palabras
e o que não foi dito.
 

​Ariadne II, 1980
 
They leave her there alone
amongst her crows,
telling out a liturgy
of mystery,
 
                        beneath the pergola
of an amphibian
                        afternoon,
its sky a torrid
lamentation.
 
They let her rule
her birds
            --an eremite--
in a circle
of allusions.
 
Who could hold
that gift of fruit,
that budding life, that mythic tale?
 
All that kindles, that blossoms
from our eyes
                        --facing what does not exist--
beneath words spoken
and what has not been said.

Poem 783, by Will Barnet (USA) 1982

​
Emily Dickinson, 1982
 
A névoa pictória
reconduz
            ao espaco mítico
a mulher comida pelos sonhos.
 
Não há outro modo
de arrancá-la
                        das palabras
sem sangrar
a música de seu nome;
 
não há outro modo
de colher
               os passaros suspensos
nos seus olhos.
 
Da pedra da clausura,
sua voz brotou
vívida e imprescindível
feito o trigo.
 
Agora,
lhe desnudam
                       o espelho
dos ventos e dos pincéis.
 
Para que dela
não reste nada mais
que as digitais
                        do eterno.

​
Emily Dickinson, 1982
 
Pictorial mist
leads back
                 to a mythic space,
a woman devoured by dreams.
 
There is no other way
 to tear her
                    from words
without drawing blood
from the music of her name;
 
there is no other way
to gather
              the birds suspended
in her eyes.
 
From the stone of her seclusion,
her voice sprang forth,
vital and indispensable,
like wheat.
 
Now,
the mirror of winds
and brushes
strips her bare
 
so that nothing of her remains
but fingerprints
of eternity.

Reclining Woman, by Will Barnet (USA) 1989

Reclining Woman​                                                                               
 
Deitada sobre as raízes
de sua própria espessura...
não é só o que notamos
na extensão ou largura.
 
Resta o que não foi descrito
e nem seque foi pensado;
que está na borda do tempo
escorregando no acaso.
 
Uma palavra não dita,
um pássaro que não voou,
uma cor feita de vento,
que em nenhum lugar pousou.
 
Porém tudo está presente,
distante estando também;
porque viver é esse apelo
entre o que vai e o que vem.

​ 
Reclining Woman
 
Reclining on the roots
of her own forested flesh,
that’s not all we notice  
in her length or in her breadth.
 
What remains is what was not described
and never even thought;
what hovers on the edge of time
slip sliding into naught.
 
An unspoken word,
a bird without flight,
a colour made of wind,
with nowhere to alight.
 
Though everything is present,
yet at a distance it flows;
for living is this crying out
between what comes and goes.

Early Spring, by Will Barnet (USA) 1977

Early Spring, 1977                                                                  
 
Conversam como se dançam
na expertise dos xales
(charlam seus dons atávicos
de doar sem desvelar).
 
E todos lhes acatamos
como um defeito divino,
que pelo avesso se expressa,
como o silêncio de Deus.
 
Pouco importa do que falam,
(nas vozes que leva o vento)
se estamos todos rendidos
sob o sol do encantamento.
 
Ali estão distraídas
no primado da beleza; 
rente a um poder tão sagrado,
que governa sem reinado.

Early Spring, 1977
 
They converse as in a dance
with an expertise of shawls
(their chatter filled with atavistic gifts
 that give without unveiling).
 
And we accept them, all of us, 
Like a divine deficiency,
that speaks to us a hidden sense,
like the silence of our God.
 
It doesn’t matter who is talking,
(in voices gone with the wind)
since we have all surrendered
to the splendor of their spell.
 
There they are bemused
in beauty’s primacy;
flush against a blessed force,
that governs without sovereignty.
 

Woman with Cats, by Will Barnet (USA) 1989

Woman with Cats                                                                   
 
Enquanto um ente se rende ao dar-se,
o outro assiste em silêncio.
 
Mas não são dois, 
é um só --, que se bipartisse.
 
Não há retorno ou diálogos:
perguntas já são respostas
na cromatura do azul.
 
No sonho dela estão eles;
no sonho deles --, alhures...
porque são feitos de sombras
que só se apegam aos lugares.
 
Mesmo assim,
não há  conflitos entre a deusa
e seus pupilos;
 
cada qual reina seu reino.
 

Woman with Cats                                                           
 
While one creature gives itself to surrender,
the other attends in silence.
 
But they are not two,
they are just one-- split in half.
 
There is no return, no dialogue:
questions are already answers
in the tincture of the blue.
 
In her dream, there they are;
in their dream—somewhere else,
for they are made of shadows
that attach to place, not self.
 
And yet, there are no conflicts
between the goddess and the apples of her eye;
 
each rules her realm alone.

Stairway to the Sea, by Will Barnet (USA) 1890

​
Stairway to the Sea                                                  
 
Não se chega ao fim da escada,
porque não há um começo,
já entramos pelo meio,
sem chave e sem enderéço
 
do lugar que nos marcaram
com prazo de validade,
ainda que em nossa agenda
sonhemos com a eternidade.
 
Não se pode achar o fim
do que é infindo regresso;
do que brota à superfície,
mas seca pelo avesso.
 
O fim pode estar no meio
das horas se destecendo,
que são os únicos degraus
em que se sobe descendo.

Stairway to the Sea                                                 
 
Since there is no beginning,
one cannot reach the stairway’s end,
we enter in the middle,
no key, no way to comprehend
 
that place where we are branded,
stamped with an expiration date,
while in our little day book
we dream eternity as our fate.
 
One cannot find the end
of what are endless returns;
of what springs forth to the surface,
but beneath withers and burns.
 
The end could be in the midst
of the unravelling of time,
the hours the only steps
one descends in order to climb.
 

Salgado Maranhao, translated by Alexis Levitin
​
These poems are from the upcoming book, Beneath the Gaze of Will Barnet, by Salgado Maranhao, translated by Alexis Levitin.

The poems "Peter Grimes," "Ariadne ll," and "Emily Dickinson" were previously published by Per Contra.                                     

Salgado Maranhao, winner of all of Brazil's major poetry awards, has toured the United States five times, presenting his work at over one hundred colleges and universities. In addition to fourteen books of poetry, he has written song lyrics and made recordings with some of Brazil’s leading jazz and pop musicians.  He has published three collections of his work in English: Blood of the Sun (Milkweed Editions, 2012), Tiger Fur (White Pine Press, 2015), and Palavora (Dialogos Books, 2019). A fourth collection, Mapping the Tribe, will be published in 2020. On Nov. 13, 2017, Salgado received an honoris causa doctorate for his cultural achievements from the Federal University of Piaui in Teresina, Brazil. 

​Alexis Levitin has published forty-five books in translation, mostly poetry from Portugal, Brazil, and Ecuador.  In addition to three books by Salgado Maranhão, his work includes Clarice Lispector’s  Soulstorm  and Eugénio de Andrade’s Forbidden Words, both from New Directions. He has served as a Fulbright Lecturer at the Universities of Oporto and Coimbra, Portugal, The Catholic University in Guayaquil, Ecuador, and the Federal University of Santa Catarina, in Brazil and has held translation residencies at Banff, Canada, Straelen, Germany (twice), and the Rockefeller Foundation Study Center in Bellagio, Italy.

All artwork ©Will Barnet Foundation, courtesy Alexandre Gallery, New York.