The girl is in no hurry,
oblivious to an averse horizon
to the disturbances inside her,
maybe for her the future is
another amniotic liquid,
time is hybrid, and the table poor,
almost a torment, but throwing in the towel
seems something distant
to the girl's unknown mind
sitting in an ordinary chair,
thinking not thinking.
***
A moça está sem pressa,
alheia a um horizonte avesso
aos distúrbios em seu interior,
talvez para ela o futuro seja
outro líquido amniótico,
o tempo seja híbrido, e a mesa
insossa, quase um tormento, mas
jogar a toalha parece algo distante
à desconhecida mente da moça
sentada numa cadeira comum
pensando não pensando.
Thank you LUCAS. Poetry is a long and winding road, a river with no return.
Thank you so much for your visit and for your amazing translation of my poem. - Darlan M Cunha
Thank you so much for your visit and for your amazing translation of my poem. Darlan M Cunha
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
She is unhurried others inside out horizon to disturbances inside maybe for her future summarize in amniotic fluid time is hybrid and the table bland, almost punishment, but throw in the towel seems distant the unknown girl's mind an ordinary chair thinking about not thinking.. iip