Today, the cars, too, are dancing. The houses are moving gently. And I - who moved house, changed clothes, city and bed, words...
...
The city rocked like a boat. No. Perhaps the ground would crack open somewhere. No. It was the giddiness. It was the departure. No.
...
On sad days you don't mention birds.
You ring up friends and they're out
and then on the street
you ask for a light as if asking
...
I was thinking books are weightless. I mean, they float upon the understanding.
Upon memory. Or even better: they are steady because they are not people.
They have no nights, no insomnia. They have no sleep in them.
...
And there she was - we, crossing through joy
by boat: father still in a moustache, brown hat,
mother wearing glasses and a scarf, Marta, who'd soon be a mother
...
Filipa Leal was born in Porto in 1979. She studied journalism at the University of Westminster in London and Portuguese and Brazilian Literature at the University of Porto. As cultural journalist, and after having been editor of the supplement “Das Artes, Das Letras” at the newspaper “O Primeiro de Janeiro”, she is currently a TV journalist (RTP2) “Diário Câmara Clara” and managing editor of Casa Fernando Pessoa’s magazine.)
[Today, the cars, too, are dancing]
Today, the cars, too, are dancing. The houses are moving gently. And I - who moved house, changed clothes, city and bed, words... I, who changed my music and my car, my longing, bedroom... I - who changed computer and street, landscape and eternity, climate and embrace... I - who changed tears and language, god and notebook, beliefs and sky... I - who changed flame, fears... I - who changed plans, bedsheets, desk... I - who changed my glasses and direction, friends, shampoo, rituals and supermarket... I - who changed everything which changed almost nothing, moved from inside of me to inside of you, my love.
Translated by Ana Hudson, 2011