[the woman has the chemistry of animals] Poem by Gonçalo Manuel Tavares

the woman has the chemistry of animals and the pollen of plants,
and she steals from the Great Soul its Appetite in order to multiply things that are born.
Infection is calm.
If a flower could fly it would lose its scent;
and if a bird could smell like a rose, it would surely be lame.
Because the world worked itself out all at once and then became silent.
We were left, alone, us and Philosophy.
The stone is silent, the animal grunts,
the grass grows so slow that we only see it when it comes of age,
and the dogs bark under the Sun.
We are all imperfect residues
and the ball organisers exited right at the beginning,
leaving behind the Music, but not the steps.
That's why we stumble,
we brake the bad nail and the good one,
we fall in love with a woman and she's already another,
and, Deep down, what we wanted was peace and not dance.
What we fear is loneliness, let's face it,
that coffin arriving before it's time,
shutting us from the other and from the light.
What we want is peace;
no Mysteries or dancing steps,
turn off the Music.

Translated by Ana Hudson