Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Margarida Vale de Gato

INTRODUCTORY TEXT

1. 
For me it makes little difference: poet,  poetess –  
depends on the measure, and the stress –  
I prefer translator, but admit   
that I sometimes can’t be plied, I’m a narcissist.


2.
My earliest poetry was about rain   
and weeping. Today it would be  
prose and rain, or gunpowder:  
  
it's raining out, wind rapes the window,  
a street is never like the brochures –  
With fine eloquence I stab my note   
  
to the world through my heart.  
It bursts,  withered muscle bloat –   
a thousand times that life were more than art.

3.
If the line’s strict measure doesn’t aim to show
but is a seeking instead –
or is the taste of what it finds . . .  
If I don’t write to order,
but showered by latter rain.

4.
Certainly, I can pose
for the camera,
mold my mouth to the click, close
down the diaphragm. It depends
how the roll is developed –
model artist prey, I’m like everyone:
the lives I don’t touch interest me
in uneven parts of avarice and voracity.
Before they know me, period,
they know me periodically.

EVEN VOORSTELLEN

1.
Mij maakt het niet uit: dichter, dichteres
het hangt meer af van maat of ritme –
ik prefereer vertaalster maar geef toe
dat ik onbuigzaam ben soms en narciste.

2.
Mijn eerste gedicht ging
over regen en tranen. Nu zou het
proza zijn, of over regen en buskruit:

het regent buiten rammelt de wind aan het raam,
de straat is nooit zoals in folders staat --
Mijn briefje aan de wereld, ik speld het

met een broos woord op het hart.
Breek, verstopte slappe spier –
het leven uitzondering al was het duizend maal.

3.
als de strengheid van het vers niets wil bewijzen
maar enkel zoekt –
of proeven wil waarnaar iets smaakt.
Als ik niet schrijf op bestelling
slechts op laatbloeiend geluk

4.
ik kan poseren, jazeker,
voor de fotocamera,
mijn mond vormen naar de klik of de opening
afstemmen op het diafragma. Afhankelijk
van het onthullend papier –
model artiest prooi, ik ben als iedereen:
de levens die ik niet beroer interesseren me
in een wanverhouding van vraatzucht en inhaligheid.
Maar toch liever dat ze me kennen van gezicht
dan uit een blad.

TEXTO DE APRESENTAÇÃO

1.
É-me indiferente: poeta, poetisa
dependerá do ritmo ou da medida –
prefiro tradutora, mas admito
que por vezes não dobro e sou narcisa.

2.
A minha primeira poesia era
sobre chuva e choro. Hoje seria
prosa, ou sobre chuva e a pólvora:

chove fora viola o vento o vidro,
a rua nunca é como os prospectos –
O meu bilhete ao mundo, espeto-o

com delicado verbo ao coração.
Rebenta, murcho músculo entupido –
mil vezes fosse a vida a excepção.

3.
se o rigor do verso não visa qualquer prova
senão procura –
ou provar o que seja de sabor.
Se não escrevo por encomenda
senão por ventura serôdia

4.
posso posar, certamente,
para a máquina fotográfica,
moldar a boca ao disparo ou regular
a abertura ao diafragma. Dependente
do papel revelador –
modelo artista presa, sou como todos:
as vidas que não toco interessam-me
num desequilíbrio de voracidade e avareza.
Antes ainda assim me conheçam de vista
que de revista.
Close

INTRODUCTORY TEXT

1. 
For me it makes little difference: poet,  poetess –  
depends on the measure, and the stress –  
I prefer translator, but admit   
that I sometimes can’t be plied, I’m a narcissist.


2.
My earliest poetry was about rain   
and weeping. Today it would be  
prose and rain, or gunpowder:  
  
it's raining out, wind rapes the window,  
a street is never like the brochures –  
With fine eloquence I stab my note   
  
to the world through my heart.  
It bursts,  withered muscle bloat –   
a thousand times that life were more than art.

3.
If the line’s strict measure doesn’t aim to show
but is a seeking instead –
or is the taste of what it finds . . .  
If I don’t write to order,
but showered by latter rain.

4.
Certainly, I can pose
for the camera,
mold my mouth to the click, close
down the diaphragm. It depends
how the roll is developed –
model artist prey, I’m like everyone:
the lives I don’t touch interest me
in uneven parts of avarice and voracity.
Before they know me, period,
they know me periodically.

INTRODUCTORY TEXT

1. 
For me it makes little difference: poet,  poetess –  
depends on the measure, and the stress –  
I prefer translator, but admit   
that I sometimes can’t be plied, I’m a narcissist.


2.
My earliest poetry was about rain   
and weeping. Today it would be  
prose and rain, or gunpowder:  
  
it's raining out, wind rapes the window,  
a street is never like the brochures –  
With fine eloquence I stab my note   
  
to the world through my heart.  
It bursts,  withered muscle bloat –   
a thousand times that life were more than art.

3.
If the line’s strict measure doesn’t aim to show
but is a seeking instead –
or is the taste of what it finds . . .  
If I don’t write to order,
but showered by latter rain.

4.
Certainly, I can pose
for the camera,
mold my mouth to the click, close
down the diaphragm. It depends
how the roll is developed –
model artist prey, I’m like everyone:
the lives I don’t touch interest me
in uneven parts of avarice and voracity.
Before they know me, period,
they know me periodically.
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