ANTÓNIO CAMPOS

( Brasília – Brasil )

Was born in Lisbon, Portugal, in 1933.
Civil engeneer, poet, ficcionist and literary critic, emigrated do Brail I 1975, with residence in Brasília.
Won several, national and international prizes for poetry and short stories.
Member of the Academia Brasiliense de Letras.

Published: “Trajeto Verbal”, poetry, 1985; and “O Porquê das Coisas”, poetry, 1987.

CAPITAL POEMS. Brazilian poets in Portuguese English and Spanish.  Brasília:          Thesaurus, 1989.  38 p.  
Ex. doado pelo livreiro Brito (DF).

TEXTO EM PORTUGUÊS – ESPAÑOL – ENGLISH

PRISIONEIRO EM CÁRCERE PRIVADO

Estou cercado: o corpo é que me cerca,
praça-forte a que me encontro circunscrito.
A pele: elástica muralha,
fronteira entre mim e o infinito.
Envio para fora indícios
de minha presença dentro, emparedado vivo.
Transmito em código mensagens de bloqueio:
mando olhares, como sinais dum telégrafo, 
solto palavras, como pombos de correio.
Atravessam a muralha e chegam ao outro lado.
Dão notícias de mim. Informam do estado
em que me encontro. Dizem
se ainda tenho pão e água,
mas sobretudo ar, que há outros, calados ou sem voz,
que servem de mim para falar.

A cada dia chega mais perto a morte
e o cerco aperta mais.
Mas eu resisto.
De dentro desta opressiva praça-forte,
como um oculto e aprisionado Cristo,
emitirei até o fim os meus sinais.

       TIEMPO DE AMAR

       Tus ojos son lirios en los cuales
reposan serenos mis inquietos ojos.
Y nada más diré, que nada más
mi canto de amor puede decir de ti.
Que el canto es breve, y la tarde
ya bucea en la lámina del mar,
y solo un último acorde del sol,
final dedo de luz, ansia todavía
desde los altos cielos por la faz de las olas,
todavía busca, desde la faz de las olas
las arenas del hondo, donde posan la perlas.

       Y yo imagino sol, y yo te imagino
playa submersa en el lecho de las aguas,
y me deseo dedos solares en busca
de perlas en calientes líquidas cavernas.

       Y nada más diré hoy, no diré nada más.
Que el canto es breve y la noche ya se inclina.
Y mis ojos arden: es tiempo de apagarlos.
Y tus ojos esperan: es tiempo de encenderlos.

I AM STILL HERE

Why hasnt´God come again to the Earth?

So many years have passed since Your breath.
What else can I do to let  You know
that I am still here,
that I am still going
in spite of it all,
in spite of the marks on my face
and the tiredness in my soul,
on the vessel of land and water
where You left me thousands of suns ago.

There has been a time, Father, a lost time
when it was easy the access to You.
You were close to my hope,
near my solitude and tears.
You commanded the rains and the course of the winds,
spoke by the throat of the clouds
and headed the armies.

But today You are distant.
You put between us a net of angels,
a thick hierarchy o faithful servants
that filter my news to protect You sleep.

What can I do
to tell You of my urgence?
I have already sent messages of affliction:
I called for Your help
in the infinite frequencies of my human cry,
torn my chest
and made a flag of my skin,
all to show You, invisible an absent,
that I am still here,
that there is still here this moving being,
this sailor still alive on the deck of a ship of dead.
It was useless.

I have already tired to copy Your wrath
I flashed lightnings from mouth of rifles,
blasted thunders from the war machines,
made the boots of the legions hammer earthquakes.

       And rehearsed the orchestra of screams.
To the universal silence of Your room
my voice didn’t come.

What else do You ask? What else do You demand?
What the definite noise that I´ll have to blow
for Your ears to hear me?
What the flames of a million flames that I´ll to light
for Your eyes to see me?
Is it he holocaust what You require? The burning
bramble?
What else ca I do to tell You
that, in spite of the and the wrinkles,
I am still Your child
and I still love You?

God forgot me.

(From “O Porquê das Coisas” – The Reason
of the Things, 1987)