toimaginedplaces,notjuststayathome?
OrcouldPascalhavebeennotentirelyright
aboutjustsittingquietlyinone’sroom?
Continent,city,country,society:
thechoiceisneverwideandneverfree.
Andhere,orthere…No.Shouldwehavestayedathome,
whereverthatmaybe?”
Squatter’sChildren
Ontheunbreathingsidesofhills
theyplay,aspecklikegirlandboy,
alone,butnearaspecklikehouse.
Thesun’ssuspendedeye
blinkscasually,andthentheywade
giganticwavesoflightandshade.
Adancingyellowspot,apup,
attendsthem.Cloudsarepilingup;
astormpilesupbehindthehouse.
Thechildrenplayatdiggingholes.
Thegroundishard;theytrytouse
oneoftheirfather’stools,
amattockwithabrokenhaft
thetwoofthemcanscarcelylift.
Itdropsandclangs.Theirlaughterspreads
effulgenceinthethunderheads,
weakflashesofinquiry
directasisthepuppy’sbark.
Buttotheirlittle,soluble,
unwarrantableark,
apparentlytherain’sreply
consistsofecholalia,
andMother’svoice,uglyassin,
keepscallingtothemtocomein.
Children,thethresholdofthestorm
hasslidbeneathyourmuddyshoes;
wetandbeguiled,youstandamong
themansionsyoumaychoose
outofabiggerhousethanyours,
whoselawfulnessendures.
Itssoggydocumentsretain
yourrightsinroomsoffallingrain.
Manuelzinho
[Brazil.Afriendofthewriterisspeaking.]
Halfsquatter,halftenant(norent)—
asortofinheritance;white,
inyourthirtiesnow,andsupposed
tosupplymewithvegetables,
butyoudon’t;oryouwon’t;oryoucan’t
gettheideathroughyourbrain—
theworld’sworstgardenersinceCain.
Tiltedaboveme,yourgardens
ravishmyeyes.Youedge
thebedsofsilvercabbages
withredcarnations,andlettuces
mixwithalyssum.Andthen
umbrellaantsarrive,
oritrainsforasolidweek
andthewholething’sruinedagain
andIbuyyoumorepoundsofseeds,
imported,guaranteed,
andeventuallyyoubringme
amysticthree-leggedcarrot,
orapumpkin“biggerthanthebaby.”
Iwatchyouthroughtherain,
trotting,light,onbarefeet,
upthesteeppathsyouhavemade—
oryourfatherandgrandfathermade—
allovermyproperty,
withyourheadandbackinside
asoddenburlapbag,
andfeelIcan’tendureit
anotherminute;then,
indoors,besidethestove,
keeponreadingabook.
Youstealmytelephonewires,
orsomeonedoes.Youstarve
yourhorseandyourself
andyourdogsandfamily.
Amongendlessvariety,
youeatboiledcabbagestalks.
AndonceIyelledatyou
soloudtohurryup
andfetchmethosepotatoes
yourholeyhatflewoff,
youjumpedoutofyourclogs,
leavingthreeobjectsarranged
inatriangleatmyfeet,
asifyou’dbeenagardener
inafairytaleallthistime
andattheword“potatoes”
hadvanishedtotakeupyourwork
offairyprincesomewhere.
Thestrangestthingshappen,toyou.
Yourcoweatsa“poisongrass”
anddropsdeadonthespot.
Nobodyelse’sdoes.
Andthenyourfatherdies,
asuperioroldman
withablackplushhat,andamoustache
likeawhitespread-eagledseagull.
Thefamilygathers,butyou,
no,you“don’tthinkhe’sdead!
Ilookathim.He’scold.
They’reburyinghimtoday.
Butyouknow,Idon’tthinkhe’s dead. ”
Igiveyoumoneyforthefuneral
andyougoandhirea bus
forthedelightedmourners,
soIhavetohandoversomemore
andthenhavetohearyoutellme
youprayformeeverynight!
Andthenyoucomeagain,
hatinhand,withthatwistful
face,likeachild’sfistful
ofbluetsorwhiteviolets,
improvidentasthedawn,
andoncemoreIprovide
forashotofpenicillin
downatthepharmacy,or
onemorebottleof
ElectricalBabySyrup.
Or,briskly,youcometosettle
whatwecallour“accounts,”
withtwooldcopybooks,
onewithflowersonthecover,
theotherwithacamel.
Immediateconfusion.
You’veleftoutthedecimalpoints.
Yourcolumnsstagger,
honeycombedwithzeros.
Youwhisperconspiratorially;
thenumbersmounttomillions.
Accountbooks?TheyareDreamBooks.
Inthekitchenwedreamtogether
howthemeekshallinherittheearth—
orseveralacresofmine.
Withbluesugarbagsontheirheads,
carryingyourlunch,
yourchildrenscuttlebyme
likelittlemolesaboveground,
orevencrouchbehindbushes
asifIwereouttoshootthem!
—Impossibletomakefriends,
thougheachwillgrabatonce
foranorangeorapieceofcandy.
Twinedinwispsoffog,
Iseeyouallupthere
alongwithFormoso,thedonkey,
whobrayslikeapumpgonedry,
thensuddenlystops.
—Alljuststanding,staring
offintofogandspace.
Orcomingdownatnight,
insilence,exceptforhoofs,
indimmoonlight,thehorse
orFormosostumblingafter.
Betweenusfloatafew
big,soft,pale-blue,
sluggishfireflies,
thejellyfishoftheair…
Patchuponpatchuponpatch,
yourwifekeepsallofyoucovered.
Shehasgoneoverandover
(forearmedisforewarned)
yourpairofbright-bluepants
withwhitethread,andthesedays
yourlimbsaredrapedinblueprints.
Youpaint—heavenknowswhy—
theoutsideofthecrown
andbrimofyourstrawhat.
Perhapstoreflectthesun?
Orperhapswhenyouweresmall,
yourmothersaid,“Manuelzinho,
onething:besureyoualways
paintyourstrawhat.”
Onewasgoldforawhile,
butthegoldworeoff,likeplate.
Onewasbrightgreen.Unkindly,
IcalledyouKlorophyllKid.
Myvisitorsthoughtitwasfunny.
Iapologizehereandnow.
Youhelpless,foolishman,
Il
oveyouallIcan,
Ithink.OrdoI?
Itakeoffmyhat,unpainted
andfigurative,toyou.
AgainIpromisetotry.
ElectricalStorm
Dawnanunsympatheticyellow.
Cra-aack! —dryandlight.
Thehousewasreallystruck.
Crack! Atinnysound,likeadroppedtumbler.
Tobiasjumpedinthewindow,gotinbed—
silent,hiseyesbleachedwhite,hisfuronend.
Personalandspitefulasaneighbor’schild,
thunderbegantobangandbumptheroof.
Onepinkflash;
thenhail,thebiggestsizeofartificialpearls.
Dead-white,wax-white,cold—
diplomats’wives’favors
fromanoldmoonparty—
theylayinmeltingwindrows
ontheredgrounduntilwellaftersunrise.
Wegotuptofindthewiringfused,
nolights,asmellofsaltpetre,
andthetelephonedead.
Thecatstayedinthewarmsheets.
TheLenttreeshadshedalltheirpetals:
wet,stuck,purple,amongthedead-eyepearls.
SongfortheRainySeason
Hidden,ohhidden
inthehighfog
thehousewelivein,
beneaththemagneticrock,
rain-,rainbow-ridden,
whereblood-black
bromelias,lichens,
owls,andthelint
ofthewaterfallscling,
familiar,unbidden.
Inadimage
ofwater
thebrooksingsloud
fromaribcage
ofgiantfern;vapor
climbsupthethickgrowth
effortlessly,turnsback,
holdingthemboth,
houseandrock,
inaprivatecloud.
Atnight,ontheroof,
blinddropscrawl
andtheordinarybrown
owlgivesusproof
hecancount:
fivetimes—alwaysfive—
hestampsandtakesoff
afterthefatfrogsthat,
shrillingforlove,
clamberandmount.
House,openhouse
tothewhitedew
andthemilk-whitesunrise
kindtotheeyes,
tomembership
ofsilverfish,mouse,
bookworms,
bigmoths;withawall
forthemildew’s
ignorantmap;
darkenedandtarnished
bythewarmtouch
ofthewarmbreath,
maculate,cherished,
rejoice!Foralater
erawilldiffer.
(Odifferencethatkills,
orintimidates,much
ofalloursmallshadowy
life!)Withoutwater
thegreatrockwillstare
unmagnetized,bare,
nolongerwearing
rainbowsorrain,
theforgivingair
andthehighfoggone;
theowlswillmoveon
andtheseveral
waterfallsshrivel
inthesteadysun.
SítiodaAlcobaçinha
FazendaSamambaia
Petrópolis
TheArmadillo
forRobertLowell
Thisisthetimeofyear
whenalmosteverynight
thefrail,illegalfireballoonsappear.
Climbingthemountainheight,
risingtowardasaint
stillhonoredintheseparts,
thepaperchambersflushandfillwithlight
thatcomesandgoes,likehearts.
Onceupagainsttheskyit’shard
totellthemfromthestars—
planets,thatis—thetintedones:
Venusgoingdown,orMars,
orthepalegreenone.Withawind,
theyflareandfalter,wobbleandtoss;
butifit’sstilltheysteerbetween
thekitesticksoftheSouthernCross,
receding,dwindling,solemnly
andsteadilyforsakingus,
or,inthedowndraftfromapeak,
suddenlyturningdangerous.
Lastnightanotherbigonefell.
Itsplatteredlikeaneggoffire
againstthecliffbehindthehouse.
Theflamerandown.Wesawthepair
ofowlswhonestthereflyingup
andup,theirwhirlingblack-and-white
stainedbrightpinkunderneath,until
theyshriekedupoutofsight.
Theancientowls’nestmusthaveburned.
Hastily,allalone,
aglisteningarmadilloleftthescene,
rose-flecked,headdown,taildown,
andthenababyrabbitjumpedout,
short-eared,tooursurprise.
Sosoft!—ahandfulofintangibleash
withfixed,ignitedeyes.
Toopretty,dreamlikemimicry!
Ofallingfireandpiercingcry
andpanic,andaweakmailedfist
clenchedignorantagainstthesky!
TheRiverman
[A man in a remote Amazonian village decides to become a sacaca, a witch doctor who works with water spirits. The river dolphin is believed to have supernatural powers; Luandinha is a river spirit associated with the moon; and the pirarucú is a fish weighing up to four hundred pounds. These and other detailsonwhichthispoemisbasedarefrom AmazonTown, byCharlesWagley.]
Igotupinthenight
fortheDolphinspoketome.
Hegruntedbeneathmywindow,
hidbytherivermist,
butIglimpsedhim—amanlikemyself.
Ithrewoffmyblanket,sweating;
Ieventoreoffmyshirt.
Igotoutofmyhammock
andwentthroughthewindownaked.
Mywifesleptandsnored.
HearingtheDolphinahead,
Iwentdowntotheriver
andthemoonwasburningbright
asthegasoline-lampmantle
withtheflameturneduptoohigh,
justbeforeitbeginstoscorch.
Iwentdowntotheriver.
IheardtheDolphinsigh
asheslidintothewater.
Istoodtherelistening
tillhecalledfromfaroutstream.
Iwadedintotheriver
andsuddenlyadoor
inthewateropenedinward,
groaningalittle,withwater
bulgingabovethelintel.
Ilookedbackatmyhouse,
whiteasapieceofwashing
forgottenonthebank,
andIthoughtonceofmywife,
butIknewwhatIwasdoing.
Theygavemeashellof cachaça
anddecoratedcigars.
Thesmokeroselikemist
throughthewater,andourbreaths
didn’tmakeanybubbles.
Wedrank cachaçaandsmoked
thegreencheroots.Theroom
filledwithgray-greensmoke
andmyheadcouldn’thavebeendizzier.
Thenatall,beautifulserpent
inelegantwhitesatin,
withherbigeyesgreenandgold
likethelightsontheriversteamers—
yes,Luandinha,noneother—
enteredandgreetedme.
Shecomplimentedme
inalanguageIdidn’tknow;
butwhensheblewcigarsmoke
intomyearsandnostrils
Iunderstood,likeadog,
althoughIcan’tspe
akityet.
Theyshowedmeroomafterroom
andtookmefromheretoBelém
andbackagaininaminute.
Infact,I’mnotsurewhereIwent,
butmiles,undertheriver.
ThreetimesnowI’vebeenthere.
Idon’teatfishanymore.
Thereisfinemudonmyscalp
andIknowfromsmellingmycomb
thattheriversmellsinmyhair.
Myhandsandfeetarecold.
Ilookyellow,mywifesays,
andshebrewsmestinkingteas
Ithrowout,behindherback.
Everymoonlitnight
I’mtogobackagain.
Iknowsomethingsalready,
butitwilltakeyearsofstudy,
itisallsodifficult.
Theygavemeamottledrattle
andapale-greencoraltwig
andsomespecialweedslikesmoke.
(They’reundermycanoe.)
Whenthemoonshinesontheriver,
oh,fasterthanyoucanthinkit
wetravelupstreamanddownstream,
wejourneyfromheretothere,
underthefloatingcanoes,
rightthroughthewickertraps,
whenthemoonshinesontheriver
andLuandinhagivesaparty.
ThreetimesnowI’veattended.
Herroomsshinelikesilver
withthelightfromoverhead,
asteadystreamoflight
likeatthecinema.
Ineedavirginmirror
noone’severlookedat,
that’sneverlookedbackatanyone,
toflashupthespirits’eyes
andhelpmerecognizethem.
Thestorekeeperofferedme
aboxoflittlemirrors,
buteachtimeIpickedoneup
aneighborlookedovermyshoulder
andthenthatonewasspoiled—
spoiled,thatis,foranything
butthegirlstolookattheirmouthsin,
toexaminetheirteethandsmiles.
Whyshouldn’tIbeambitious?
Isincerelydesiretobe
aserious sacaca
likeFortunatoPombo,
orLúcio,oreven
thegreatJoaquimSacaca.
Look,itstandstoreason
thateverythingweneed
canbeobtainedfromtheriver.
Itdrainsthejungles;itdraws
fromtreesandplantsandrocks
fromhalfaroundtheworld,
itdrawsfromtheveryheart
oftheearththeremedy
foreachofthediseases—
onejusthastoknowhowtofindit.
Buteverythingmustbethere
inthatmagicmud,beneath
themultitudesoffish,
deadlyorinnocent,
thegiant pirarucús,
theturtlesandcrocodiles,
treetrunksandsunkcanoes,
withthecrayfish,withtheworms