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  • jorgecaixote

The Poet Afonso Lopes Vieira


Tragic-Maritime Misses Cry in the rhythm of my blood, the Sea. On the beach, face down, I keep dreaming, I keep listening what in me dreams and remembers and cries someone; and I hear in this soul of mine a distant litany rumor, and hiccups, from beyond …

Cry in the rhythm of my blood, the Sea.

My grandparents are praying, who have been sailing and gone, looking at all the heavens; they cry in me your background and long goodbye, and pray in the raw anxiety of shipwrecks; they cry from far away on me, and I hear them well, cry in the distance, signs, omens, from beyond, from beyond …

Cry in the rhythm of my blood, the Sea.

I’ve sunk a hundred times already … One was on the ship S. Bento, and I saw him die, in the tragic torment, Dona Leonor de Sá: I saw her naked, on the rough and ugly beach, with eyes begging – eyes of wife and mother – and I saw her, her hair untied, dig your grave and bury yourself in the sand. – And alone I went on the beach beyond …

Cry in the rhythm of my blood, the Sea.

Listen to me, – I hear the scream of the rude afflicted people: – Lord God, mercy! – Virgin Mother, mercy! Crazy with hunger and terror, we scream our sins, and comes out of every mouth hoarse and crazy the confession! – Lord God, mercy! – Mercy, Virgin Mother! and the wind groans in the bulb without stars; we got dark without a rudder, we dawn without masts! And the sea and the sky, without end, beyond …

Cry in the rhythm of my blood, the Sea.

Ah! God certainly knows my voice that rises, white and alone, – anguish flower rising to the skies for the pain of the litany! Transido, the cry of prayer of the same blood came to us God knows my eyes are long; where the sea and the sky left a little vague yearning in this long mystery of your halo … Pray in me the others who prayed, and wept also; there is a Portuguese weeping, and I know how to cry it with tears from beyond …

Cry in the rhythm of my blood, the Sea.

O my love, notice in my eyes, in your clear hurt! Still from beyond my look of love and my kiss too. If I am sad, it is my pity, by far my pain and my anxiety. You see how I love you, do you? My blood is Portuguese, my skin is dark, my grace to Saudade, my long eyes of endless listening the beyond, in me …

Cry in the rhythm of my blood, the Sea.

Afonso Lopes Vieira, in ‘Ilhas de Bruma’


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