Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Jorge de Sena

OVER THIS SHORE/II

I am questioning myself – as curious
as is the child becoming adolescent
who is no expert in how bodies work –
asking what various games or non-games
take place in the intimacy of these I see
totally nude on the sand of the shore
between a cliff that hides them and the sea
which accepts everything in wave on wave.
Lying there in the relish of sunburning
the most occult parts of themselves there are
two young men and a girl intermingled.
One of the youths lean back against the body
of the other youth who extends his back and legs
far enough to let bend and hang above them,
drooping its fresh breasts and head of hair,
the feminine body associate with their two.
But no sign of excitement in the males
whose sex reposes, rather droops distended
in indifferent serenity that seems
the mere void absence of the mystery
which gave bodies a fervor, hot and human.
Are they, like gods, animals without rut?
Or humans who accept themselves like animals?
Whose is she? One of them only? the two?
Will one of them be hers but also the other’s?
Will each of the tree belong to the other two?
Will each male be the female of the other?
Or just one of them? Which of the two? The one who
sits and leans back? The one who lying down
accepts against his own the leaned-back body?
The three are very beautiful, and not only
with that audacity of the youth of sculpture
coded in hard curves of gentle lines,
but equally by the limpid purity
which only around the sex darkens a little.
Whoever questions himself as I now question
confesses clearly that there really is a
long way between the by-gone and this present
laid out so in the sun at water’s edge
as these three are lying or leaning back
without, even with hands, touching the sex,
let alone of another, even their own.

SOBRE ESTA PRAIA... OITO MEDITAÇÕES À BEIRA DO PACÍFICO/II

SOBRE ESTA PRAIA... OITO MEDITAÇÕES À BEIRA DO PACÍFICO/II

Pergunto-me a mim mesmo – tão curioso
como a criança a ser-se adolescente
que mal se entende em como os corpos agem –
a que diversos jogos ou não-jogos
se dão intimidade estes que vejo
inteiramente nus no areal da praia
entre uma escarpa que os esconde e o mar
que tudo aceita em ondas sucessivas.
Deitados no saber de ao sol queimarem
o mais oculto de si mesmos são
dois jovens e uma jovem misturados.
Um dos rapazes se recosta contra o corpo
do outro rapaz que alonga dorso e pernas,
enquanto neste se debruça e dobra,
pendendo os frescos seios e os cabelos,
o corpo feminino associado aos de ambos.
Mas nada indica excitação nos machos
de quem se pousa o sexo ou distendido pende
em de sereno indiferente como
a só vazia ausência de mistério
que a corpos dava um fervor quente e humano.
São, como deuses, animais sem cio?
Ou são, como animais, humanos que se aceitam?
Ela é de quem? De um deles só, dos dois?
Um deles será dela mas também do outro?
Será cada um dos três dos outros dois?
Ambos os machos serão fêmeas do outro?
Ou só um deles? Qual dos dois? O que
sentado se recosta? O que deitado
aceita contra o seu o corpo recostado?
Os três são muito belos, e não só
daquela de escultura juvenil audácia
cifrada em curvas duras de suaves linhas,
mas igualmente da pureza límpida
que só em torno ao sexo se enegrece um pouco.
Quem se pergunta como eu me pergunto
confessa claramente que distância
existe entre o passado e este presente
assim deitado ao sol à beira de água
como estes três se deitam ou recostam
sem que sequer com as mãos os sexos toquem,
senão o de outrem, mesmo o de si mesmos.
Close

OVER THIS SHORE/II

I am questioning myself – as curious
as is the child becoming adolescent
who is no expert in how bodies work –
asking what various games or non-games
take place in the intimacy of these I see
totally nude on the sand of the shore
between a cliff that hides them and the sea
which accepts everything in wave on wave.
Lying there in the relish of sunburning
the most occult parts of themselves there are
two young men and a girl intermingled.
One of the youths lean back against the body
of the other youth who extends his back and legs
far enough to let bend and hang above them,
drooping its fresh breasts and head of hair,
the feminine body associate with their two.
But no sign of excitement in the males
whose sex reposes, rather droops distended
in indifferent serenity that seems
the mere void absence of the mystery
which gave bodies a fervor, hot and human.
Are they, like gods, animals without rut?
Or humans who accept themselves like animals?
Whose is she? One of them only? the two?
Will one of them be hers but also the other’s?
Will each of the tree belong to the other two?
Will each male be the female of the other?
Or just one of them? Which of the two? The one who
sits and leans back? The one who lying down
accepts against his own the leaned-back body?
The three are very beautiful, and not only
with that audacity of the youth of sculpture
coded in hard curves of gentle lines,
but equally by the limpid purity
which only around the sex darkens a little.
Whoever questions himself as I now question
confesses clearly that there really is a
long way between the by-gone and this present
laid out so in the sun at water’s edge
as these three are lying or leaning back
without, even with hands, touching the sex,
let alone of another, even their own.

OVER THIS SHORE/II

I am questioning myself – as curious
as is the child becoming adolescent
who is no expert in how bodies work –
asking what various games or non-games
take place in the intimacy of these I see
totally nude on the sand of the shore
between a cliff that hides them and the sea
which accepts everything in wave on wave.
Lying there in the relish of sunburning
the most occult parts of themselves there are
two young men and a girl intermingled.
One of the youths lean back against the body
of the other youth who extends his back and legs
far enough to let bend and hang above them,
drooping its fresh breasts and head of hair,
the feminine body associate with their two.
But no sign of excitement in the males
whose sex reposes, rather droops distended
in indifferent serenity that seems
the mere void absence of the mystery
which gave bodies a fervor, hot and human.
Are they, like gods, animals without rut?
Or humans who accept themselves like animals?
Whose is she? One of them only? the two?
Will one of them be hers but also the other’s?
Will each of the tree belong to the other two?
Will each male be the female of the other?
Or just one of them? Which of the two? The one who
sits and leans back? The one who lying down
accepts against his own the leaned-back body?
The three are very beautiful, and not only
with that audacity of the youth of sculpture
coded in hard curves of gentle lines,
but equally by the limpid purity
which only around the sex darkens a little.
Whoever questions himself as I now question
confesses clearly that there really is a
long way between the by-gone and this present
laid out so in the sun at water’s edge
as these three are lying or leaning back
without, even with hands, touching the sex,
let alone of another, even their own.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
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