Poem
Ruy Belo
THREE OR FOUR CHILDREN
More or less here not long ago there were some childrenthree or four children more or less right there
There must have been children there’s so much sun
here where the wind sometimes flagellates the summer
and children in the summer here on the hill
children who are the wind’s victims
and sometimes my virtual victims
victims right now of my eyes that don’t see them now
children in crisis all covered with dust
pure dust stirred up for a moment by the wind
children who can be led by a single thought
children who are defined by their growth
who sometimes completely consist in contentment
children like reeds that lightly bend in the wind
of the moment children now concentrated here
now springing up over there forever self-detached
almost weightless almost footless children
swaying on stalks in the wind
and sometimes wrapped in its cloak as if by magic
children things we almost only think of
things we sometimes doubt
things we’re not quite sure exist
seeming to be one moment seeming not to be the next
being perhaps living victims of doubt
children scarcely more than doubts
who were here who aren’t here
who weren’t here even when they were here
who at most may perhaps have been here
in the wind within this summer
children things that fly things that take flight
birds with lightish eyes three or four voices
three or four notes from the time the wind blew
children three or four moments in all
three or four houses in the wind
houses raised on high that promptly fall
whitewashed fallen-down houses
three or four nothings in all
reeds I just now saw bending in their fragile lives
already vanished from my sight
three or four children absorbed in their lives
each one hardly anything three
or four children three or four times life
Here’s this mound here there were there must have been
three or four who were there three or four whom I saw I heard
things I saw things I perhaps saw
scarcely more than a gesture
scarcely more than a moment in this month of august
I’m no longer sure if I saw them if I didn’t seem them
it seems there were some children more or less here
© Translation: 2005, Richard Zenith
Três ou Quatro Crianças
Três ou Quatro Crianças
Mais ou menos aqui havia há pouco umas criançastrês ou quatro crianças mais ou menos ali
Devia haver crianças há este sítio do sol
aqui onde o vento vitima às vezes o verão
e crianças no verão no montículo aqui
crianças que o vento vitima
minhas vítimas virtuais outras vezes
vítimas agora dos meus olhos que agora as não vêem
crianças em crise polvilhadas de pó
puro pó ao vento revolto um momento
crianças que um só pensamento pode levar
crianças que se definem pelo crescimento
que no contentamento por vezes de todo se contêm
crianças canas que vergam leves ao vento
do instante crianças que ora aqui se concentram
ora se erguem ali sempre alheias a si
crianças quase sem peso quase até sem pés
oscilando nas hastes ao vento
como por encanto por vezes envoltas no seu manto
crianças coisas quase apenas pensadas
coisas das quais se duvida às vezes
que a gente quase não sabe se são ou não são
que ora nos parece que são ora que não são
que são vivas vítimas talvez da dúvida
crianças pouco mais do que dúvidas
que estavam que não estão aqui
que mesmo quando aqui estavam não estavam aqui
que quando muito podem talvez ter aqui estado
ao vento dentro deste verão
crianças coisas que voam coisas que se evolam
aves de olhos leves três ou quatro vozes
três ou quatro notas do tempo do vento
crianças três ou quatro momentos ao todo
três ou quatro casas ao vento
casas ao alto erguidas e logo caídas
casas caídas caiadas
três ou quatro nadas
canas vistas vergar há pouco nas frágeis vidas
agora fugidas da minha vista
três ou quatro crianças absortas nas suas vidas
cada uma bem pouco três
ou quatro crianças três ou quatro vezes a vida
Há aqui este cabeço estavam estariam aqui
três ou quatro que havia três ou quatro que eu via que ouvia
coisas que eu vi que talvez tenha visto
pouco mais que um gesto
pouco mais que um instante neste mês de agosto
já não sei se as vi já não sei se as não vi
haveria umas crianças mais ou menos aqui
© 1976, Ruy Belo
From: Todos os Poemas
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisbon
From: Todos os Poemas
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, Lisbon
Poems
Poems of Ruy Belo
Close
THREE OR FOUR CHILDREN
More or less here not long ago there were some childrenthree or four children more or less right there
There must have been children there’s so much sun
here where the wind sometimes flagellates the summer
and children in the summer here on the hill
children who are the wind’s victims
and sometimes my virtual victims
victims right now of my eyes that don’t see them now
children in crisis all covered with dust
pure dust stirred up for a moment by the wind
children who can be led by a single thought
children who are defined by their growth
who sometimes completely consist in contentment
children like reeds that lightly bend in the wind
of the moment children now concentrated here
now springing up over there forever self-detached
almost weightless almost footless children
swaying on stalks in the wind
and sometimes wrapped in its cloak as if by magic
children things we almost only think of
things we sometimes doubt
things we’re not quite sure exist
seeming to be one moment seeming not to be the next
being perhaps living victims of doubt
children scarcely more than doubts
who were here who aren’t here
who weren’t here even when they were here
who at most may perhaps have been here
in the wind within this summer
children things that fly things that take flight
birds with lightish eyes three or four voices
three or four notes from the time the wind blew
children three or four moments in all
three or four houses in the wind
houses raised on high that promptly fall
whitewashed fallen-down houses
three or four nothings in all
reeds I just now saw bending in their fragile lives
already vanished from my sight
three or four children absorbed in their lives
each one hardly anything three
or four children three or four times life
Here’s this mound here there were there must have been
three or four who were there three or four whom I saw I heard
things I saw things I perhaps saw
scarcely more than a gesture
scarcely more than a moment in this month of august
I’m no longer sure if I saw them if I didn’t seem them
it seems there were some children more or less here
© 2005, Richard Zenith
From: Todos os Poemas
From: Todos os Poemas
THREE OR FOUR CHILDREN
More or less here not long ago there were some childrenthree or four children more or less right there
There must have been children there’s so much sun
here where the wind sometimes flagellates the summer
and children in the summer here on the hill
children who are the wind’s victims
and sometimes my virtual victims
victims right now of my eyes that don’t see them now
children in crisis all covered with dust
pure dust stirred up for a moment by the wind
children who can be led by a single thought
children who are defined by their growth
who sometimes completely consist in contentment
children like reeds that lightly bend in the wind
of the moment children now concentrated here
now springing up over there forever self-detached
almost weightless almost footless children
swaying on stalks in the wind
and sometimes wrapped in its cloak as if by magic
children things we almost only think of
things we sometimes doubt
things we’re not quite sure exist
seeming to be one moment seeming not to be the next
being perhaps living victims of doubt
children scarcely more than doubts
who were here who aren’t here
who weren’t here even when they were here
who at most may perhaps have been here
in the wind within this summer
children things that fly things that take flight
birds with lightish eyes three or four voices
three or four notes from the time the wind blew
children three or four moments in all
three or four houses in the wind
houses raised on high that promptly fall
whitewashed fallen-down houses
three or four nothings in all
reeds I just now saw bending in their fragile lives
already vanished from my sight
three or four children absorbed in their lives
each one hardly anything three
or four children three or four times life
Here’s this mound here there were there must have been
three or four who were there three or four whom I saw I heard
things I saw things I perhaps saw
scarcely more than a gesture
scarcely more than a moment in this month of august
I’m no longer sure if I saw them if I didn’t seem them
it seems there were some children more or less here
© 2005, Richard Zenith
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