Treasure Island

Carlos Drummond de Andrade

Beach - Palm - Peace

Peace tries to land in Vietnam,
but only after a cautious examination.
Day after day, month following month,
flutters, runs away, hovers again.
If a bomb, coming down, cuts its flight?
If they lock it in the cage, and it goes to the Zoo
like a rare animal of extinct species?
If they stain it with some black ink?
If, running from nature and its norm,
it will be asked to lay some quail eggs?
Or even, as was done in the past,
they deplume and munch it in a stew?
The destiny of doves is very unsure;
in the shadows the sparrow-hawk targets, hidden.
White-bear or falcon? On each bank,
Power-Ambition stains the landscape.
And the people — which dove will take the left-overs
between thunderings, trumpets and stratagems.
Let’s go, darling, decide, face the risk
of coming down and being made a snack of.
No one could face anymore the trololo
of this chat with no end, not even Jo,
if he lived again, could imagine us,
here, there, in the Occident or Orient,
already fed up with this stupid serial
of sadism, blood and lies.
Are you an opportunist dove? Do you carry in the beak
the election’s password of your rich-cousin?
What does it matter, if what matters first of all
is to give a rest to the hungry, sad, dumb
civilian harvesting death where he used to harvest
rice — in a harvest of agony.
Oh, stop this subject. I look at the palm tree
visited by lightning, giving shade
yet in its vertical stroke,
more serene than mortal.
The marble inscription goes, but there remains
the longlined forest cut.
Hail, palm-princess, quiet line,
even with death walking your backbone!
Behold, there appears on the beach the Venusian
mirage of a splendorous girl —
better say: young woman — and from her bosom
unfurls the majestic panorama to the sun
Horror! beauty! heavens! For such a great
affront, jet-quick, Façanha is to be called!
Who is going to call? Who leaves the hot sand,
who, in emotion, won’t show the pale face?
You go. I’m not going. Neither am I.
Want to stay here, grooving.
And if Façanha comes, t.v. told,
probably, who knows? will be quiet,
drunk in beauty’s dream,
of grace in flower, of nature’s flower.
But attention, women, to this warning:
fashion demands a gram of discernment
and, as beauty deserves my respect,
it is only valid for those who take heart.
Only that which is perfect, contemplated,
reveals itself, illuminated.

Submitted: Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Beach - Palm - Peace by Carlos Drummond de Andrade )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley Updates

New Poems

  1. The tempest death, Akshansh Pandey
  3. Let us feel the love, gajanan mishra
  4. Blind Owl, Nassy Fesharaki
  5. No number, gajanan mishra
  6. We Are Tourist, Aftab Alam
  7. Two Baldy Ladies, Neela Nath
  8. The Painter Rearranges the Mirrors (1415), Cole Swensen
  10. The Evolution of the Garden, Cole Swensen

Poem of the Day

poet George Gordon Byron

So we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart still be as loving,
And the moon still be as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
...... Read complete »


Modern Poem


Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]