flores em pé de guerra
flowers on the warpath
Poems: Ivan Antonio Illustrations: Belchior, Hélio Castilio
FRIEND OF AMERICA
For Milton Nascimento
A black voice
singing for America
charms the world
He's an old acquaintance of mine
who doesn't know me
He is my friend
as he is a friend
of the people of the forest
Lights go off
he goes back home
And while in my typewriter
I write a poem
like a boy
without knowing about his new friend.
SONG OF CHALLENGE
For Allen Ginsberg
The poem grimaces
sticks its tongue out at the police
and runs through the streets.
It invades the Senate
and challenges the Congress to prove
that there is no corruption in it
It flirts with the girl on the bus
and calculates how many
died in the construction of the metro
It gets confused
by the miracle of the loaves
and writes to Jesus
asking for the formula
of the multiplication
It does all this
because it cannot be arrested
There is no policeman who can arrest it
there is no bullet
able to kill it
The frightened policeman
tries to arrest it
but the handcuffs don't fit
the hands of the poem.
He calls the sargent who is nervous
and tries to kill it
but the poem laughs loudly
and says that the rifle
is a lot smaller than the word.
At last there comes the chief commander of the battalion
and commands that the poet be arrested
because to arrest the poem
there is no army
there is no captain.
Poems: Ivan Antonio Illustration: Ima Boim
On the island, I see the compassionate wave bringing in a bottle.
There is a small note inside.
And in the note, someone says: "Help me!"
I am an island, I think.
And from this end, I only feel the agony of those who are lost
and those who throw themselves into the open sea, never to return again.
For me, it was like this: I was a boy
and didn't even know that the sea was like an abyss
I was enchanted by the beauty of its waves
And, suddenly, surrounded by water on all sides,
I became a piece of sea, a piece of sand.
Today, I no longer know who I am
Perhaps I am an island, but, if not,
it doesn't matter, even alone...
I still love...
There, on the moon, an angel is hidden.
Far from Earth,
his eyes shine as he admires the poor mortals.
God knows, and only He,
why this angel lives tehre
and why he peeks at me with compassion...
When I was a child, I dreamed of angels.
They were good and protected children who were scared of the dark.
When the eyes of angels shine, they fill the dark forests with light.
Today, a star visited my window.
She told me that from up there she could see all
and that she saw me alone every night.
The little star was right.
I need a lap, little star,
I feel so sad...