Village Rain

There is no rain,

my grandpa said,

like the rain in my village.

It made diamonds out of cobblestones

and turned the rooftops silver.

Susanna's Bath

After Nuno Júdice

I enter the water, which smokes

with steam. Then I fetch The Luz

which surpasses in value all our gold.

My sombreness evaporates, so

fickle immobile, sobbing on cue.

Under the stars of São Oleos

the reflexes of my skin dissolve.

My spirit lifts in accordance

with The Luz, like a quietness that

is whispered. And when The Whole

is explained, described in blazing detail

on my body, around each curve,

I dance inside like a wild snake.

And today the stars are brilliant

like our ancestors of the world.

Enter. Fetch the water. I invite you.

Enter the bath, and we will do well

in the salt of the three courts, the

teeth of the caravans, those boxes that revolve. 

We will hear the chimes of the two sisters,

quiet as The Luz is quiet, 

whose cost is above all else.

Then freshen your skin with the sponge

for the hours have traversed us.

The NaPoWriMo prompt for today is to choose a poem in a language you don’t understand and then translate it into English based on the look of the words and their sounds. I have attempted a translation of O Banho de Susana by Nuno Júdice of Portugal. I did not look at the proper translation until I was finished. But when I did, I was rewarded; Júdice's poem is beautiful and worth reading.

The Furnace Man

The Furnace Man 

barbecues 

people for dinner

picks them up like logs 

stokes his mouth full

doesn’t have to chew 

the flames in his belly 

flicker hot and fast

vaporize the bones

until nothing remains 

no skin no eyes 

no diamond necklaces 

not even dreams. 

But one day 

the memories of the girl 

he has just consumed 

evade the heat

flip-flop in his mind

salty and fresh.

He separates them out 

from everything that burns 

and keeps them 

in the cool of his head

just behind his left eye. 

She swims along the beach 

she and her brother 

they bob up and down 

in the waves 

sink into the depths

imagine they are mermaids

shipwrecks seaweed

then the sky lifts them 

into the blue

so much happiness it brings 

this rise and fall rise and fall.

The Furnace Man 

loves the girl’s memories 

of the sea 

will not burn them

plays them over and over

until he loves her too  

and wishes she could 

be there with him. 

But that can never be 

for he has gobbled her body 

until there is none of it left 

no flesh

no eyeballs

no eardrums 

no pink fingernails 

none of it.

All he can do 

is drown 

and the salt 

cleanses the air 

the water bathes 

the red cheeks 

and the laughter rises 

from the water

like a song.