Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Nuno Júdice

Biography

He fell into desire, the melancholy sin
of love, delight in the moment that time
erases. To the abstract froth of life he surrendered
the solitude he’d inherited from night. He entered
a river of indefinite words, abandoning the safety
of the banks.

He came to know the pale side of faces;
he aroused bodies and remembered only
a shadow’s cold; he saw absence distil
in his autumn-numbed senses and remained in-
different, looking forward to the joys
of spring.

But in the season that recalls the departed
girl, something went wrong. He didn’t set
the alarm clock for the right time; he didn’t
hear the name by which lovers recognize each
other. He’d hardly slept the night before;
he’d amused himself.

In the end he was left with a residue of
song: the revelation of a voice’s echo without
the substance of lips, abrupt like
a few strands of old hair
in the emptiness of the poem.

Biografia

Biografia

Incorreu no desejo, no pecado melancólico
do amor, no gozo do instante que o tempo
apaga. Cedeu às espumas abstractas da vida
a solidão herdada da noite. Entrou num rio
de palavras difusas, abandonando a segurança
das margens.

Conheceu o pálido reverso dos rostos;
acordou corpos dos quais só lembra um frio
de sombra; viu a destilação da ausência
nos sentidos que o outono entorpece, in-
diferente, na expectativa dos júbilos
primaveris.

Na estação que traz de vota a fúnebre
rapariga, no entanto, algo correu mal. Não
marcou o despertador para a hora certa; não
ouviu o nome que assinala o reconhecimento
dos amantes. Dormira pouco a noite passada;
distraíra-se.

Sobrou-lhe de tudo isto um resíduo de
canto: revelação de um eco de voz sem a
opacidade de lábios, súbita como a imagem
de uns cabelos antigos
no vazio do verso.
Close

Biography

He fell into desire, the melancholy sin
of love, delight in the moment that time
erases. To the abstract froth of life he surrendered
the solitude he’d inherited from night. He entered
a river of indefinite words, abandoning the safety
of the banks.

He came to know the pale side of faces;
he aroused bodies and remembered only
a shadow’s cold; he saw absence distil
in his autumn-numbed senses and remained in-
different, looking forward to the joys
of spring.

But in the season that recalls the departed
girl, something went wrong. He didn’t set
the alarm clock for the right time; he didn’t
hear the name by which lovers recognize each
other. He’d hardly slept the night before;
he’d amused himself.

In the end he was left with a residue of
song: the revelation of a voice’s echo without
the substance of lips, abrupt like
a few strands of old hair
in the emptiness of the poem.

Biography

He fell into desire, the melancholy sin
of love, delight in the moment that time
erases. To the abstract froth of life he surrendered
the solitude he’d inherited from night. He entered
a river of indefinite words, abandoning the safety
of the banks.

He came to know the pale side of faces;
he aroused bodies and remembered only
a shadow’s cold; he saw absence distil
in his autumn-numbed senses and remained in-
different, looking forward to the joys
of spring.

But in the season that recalls the departed
girl, something went wrong. He didn’t set
the alarm clock for the right time; he didn’t
hear the name by which lovers recognize each
other. He’d hardly slept the night before;
he’d amused himself.

In the end he was left with a residue of
song: the revelation of a voice’s echo without
the substance of lips, abrupt like
a few strands of old hair
in the emptiness of the poem.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère