ON THINGS Poem by Fiama Hasse Pais Brandão

Not all things mark time for us
with tenacity, in their halos.
Many hide or do not give back
the thought by which we sought them.
O imagined thing, reflection in water,
O tank containing the history of time,
hour by hour in the four seasons.
You have Winter, Summer and Spring
to show, and perfect, motionless Autumn.
The plum tree and the windstay bush
give you not only images of the Image
but also their fallen petals,
so that the archetype overlies the image.
And not only from the plant kingdom,
O ancient tank, do figures visit your mirror;
fishes, birds and insects pass
in the whole time where you preserve
the signs of the past and present.

So many things have passed, and yet I forget
that we pass, that only this water
enclosed in its circle and flowing
has a mobile and immobile force
that pulls me from age to age.
Steadily gushing, it leaves by the channel
at ground level, spreading over the fields.
And time is spent like water,
which never holds the same mirror
for the images that come and go.