Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Luiza Neto Jorge

WAKING UP ON THE STREET OF THE WORLD

early morning. footsteps of people going out
with a definite destination or indefinitely stumbling
the sound falling in my room and then
the light. no one knows what goes on
in this world. what day is today?
the bell solidly tolls the hour. the pigeons
smooth their feathers. the dust falls in my room.

a pipe burst open next to the sidewalk
a dead pigeon was swept away in the torrent
along with the pages of an old newspaper.
the slope rules
a car went under
double doors close
our yolk in the egg of sleep.

horns and sirens. it’s still not clear
via satellite just what happened. the alarm
of the jewelry shop went haywire. hanging sheets
fan the buildings. pigeons peck

the glaze on the tiles. those who woke up have come
to the window. the alarm won’t quit. the blood
seethes. the precious image via satellite didn’t arrive the vcr
recorded nothing

and from a flower-pot on a balcony a drop of water
falls and lands on the bank teller’s suit

Acordar na Rua do Mundo

Acordar na Rua do Mundo

madrugada. passos soltos de gente que saiu
com destino certo e sem destino aos tombos
no meu quarto cai o som depois
a luz. ninguém sabe o que vai
por esse mundo. que dia é hoje?
soa o sino sólido as horas. os pombos
alisam as penas. no meu quarto cai o pó.

um cano rebentou junto ao passeio.
um pombo morto foi na enxurrada
junto com as folhas dum jornal já lido.
impera o declive
um carro foi-se abaixo
portas duplas fecham
no ovo do sono a nossa gema.

sirenes e buzinas. ainda ninguém via satélite
sabe ao certo o que aconteceu. estragou-se o alarme
da joalharia. os lençóis na corda
abanam os prédios. pombos debicam

o azul dos azulejos. assoma à janela
quem acordou. o alarme não pára o sangue
desavém-se. não veio via satélite a querida imagem o vídeo
não gravou

e duma varanda um pingo cai
de um vaso salpicando o fato do bancário
Close

WAKING UP ON THE STREET OF THE WORLD

early morning. footsteps of people going out
with a definite destination or indefinitely stumbling
the sound falling in my room and then
the light. no one knows what goes on
in this world. what day is today?
the bell solidly tolls the hour. the pigeons
smooth their feathers. the dust falls in my room.

a pipe burst open next to the sidewalk
a dead pigeon was swept away in the torrent
along with the pages of an old newspaper.
the slope rules
a car went under
double doors close
our yolk in the egg of sleep.

horns and sirens. it’s still not clear
via satellite just what happened. the alarm
of the jewelry shop went haywire. hanging sheets
fan the buildings. pigeons peck

the glaze on the tiles. those who woke up have come
to the window. the alarm won’t quit. the blood
seethes. the precious image via satellite didn’t arrive the vcr
recorded nothing

and from a flower-pot on a balcony a drop of water
falls and lands on the bank teller’s suit

WAKING UP ON THE STREET OF THE WORLD

early morning. footsteps of people going out
with a definite destination or indefinitely stumbling
the sound falling in my room and then
the light. no one knows what goes on
in this world. what day is today?
the bell solidly tolls the hour. the pigeons
smooth their feathers. the dust falls in my room.

a pipe burst open next to the sidewalk
a dead pigeon was swept away in the torrent
along with the pages of an old newspaper.
the slope rules
a car went under
double doors close
our yolk in the egg of sleep.

horns and sirens. it’s still not clear
via satellite just what happened. the alarm
of the jewelry shop went haywire. hanging sheets
fan the buildings. pigeons peck

the glaze on the tiles. those who woke up have come
to the window. the alarm won’t quit. the blood
seethes. the precious image via satellite didn’t arrive the vcr
recorded nothing

and from a flower-pot on a balcony a drop of water
falls and lands on the bank teller’s suit
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère