Oh houses houses houses Poem by Ruy Belo

Oh houses houses houses
houses are born and live and die
While alive they stand out from each other
they stand out namely by their smell
they differ even from room to room
Ah the houses I built in my childhood
where might I be today in my childhood?
Where might I be in a little while from these verses?
Will I have a house to store all of this in
or will I always be just this instability?
Unlike me houses seem stable
but they're so fragile poor houses
Oh houses houses houses
silent witnesses of life
they die not only when demolished
they die with the death of people
Houses look at us through their windows
Builders landlords and real estate agents
know nothing about houses
Rich people have their palaces
but the house of the poor is the whole world
it's the poor who know about houses
the poor know everything
I loved houses their nooks and corners
I visited houses I fondled houses
Only houses can explain
why a word like intimacy exists
Without houses there would be no streets
the streets where we cross paths with others
and especially with ourselves
In a house I was born and I'll die
in a house I suffered I lived with others I loved
in a house I went through the seasons
I breathed - O life simple problem of respiration
Oh houses houses houses

Translation: 2005, Richard Zenith