Saturday, August 06, 2011

Lisbon revisited (1926)






Nothing binds me to anything.
I want fifty things at once.
With an anguish of longing hunger for flesh
What I do not know who is -
By undefined definitely ...
Restless sleep, and live in a restless dream
For restless sleepers, half dreaming.

I closed all the doors and abstract required.
Curtains ran every chance I could see the street.
No cross found in the port number they gave me.

I woke up to the same life that had fallen asleep.
Until I dreamed armies suffered defeat.
Even my dreams felt false to be dreamed.
Until the desired life just fills me - until this life ...

I understand the disjointed intervals;
I write for lapses of fatigue;
And that is boring to the boring throws me to the beach.
I do not know what fate or future incumbent upon my affliction without a rudder;
I do not know that the southern islands can not wait for me shipwrecked;
or palm of literature at least give me a verse.

No, I do not know this, or something else, or anything else ...
And deep in my spirit, where I dreamed the dream,
In the last fields of the soul where memory without cause
(And the past is a haze of tears natural false)
Roads and shortcuts distant forest
Where I assumed my being,
Flee dismantled the last remnants
End of illusion,
My hosts dreamed of, without being defeated,
My cuts for existing, broken up in God.

Again I look back on you,
City dreadfully lost my childhood ...
City sad and happy again dream here ...

I? 
But am I even lived here, and here I came,
And here I again go back, and back.
And here again ever return?
Or are all I have been here or have been,
A number of accounts linked by a loved-wire memory
A series of dreams from me for someone outside of me?

Again I look back on you,
With the heart more distant, less my soul.

Again I look back on you - and everything Lisbon and Tagus Valley -
Transient useless to you and me
Foreign here as everywhere,
Casual in the life and soul,
Ghost in the wrong room of memories,
At the noise of the rats and the boards that creak
In the castle you have to live damn ...

Again I look back on you,
Shadow that passes through the shadows, and glows
A moment to light a memorial unknown
And the night comes as a wake boat is lost
In the water which is no longer listening ...

Again I look back on you,
But, alas, not me I identify!
Gone is the magic mirror in which I was reviewing the same,
And every piece I see only a bit ominous to me -
A lot of you and me! ...


1 comment:

JadedWraith said...

Hi, Did you translate this yourself or did you find the translation somewhere. Just curious, because it's one of my favourite poems.