SIGN Poem by Ruy Duarte de Carvalho

That was the year that the rains were excessive and mushrooms grew
in dogs' eyes. The young bulls, looking out at the light from their mother's crotches, drowned in the mud, in the middle of the vines. The walls of the houses dissolved in cream and the potters no longer entrusted their work to God. Enormous measures were invented
to protect the altar flames and the children started to run around naked.
The termitaries ceased to exist and winged ants lost their wings. The feet of the oldest ones split open in sores and the breasts of virgins, as soon as you touched them, stuck to your fingers like wet ash. The lips of the birthing womens' sex swelled plumply like white meat and their bellies hung like soft fruit.
That was the year the rain was excessive and the horizon ceased to exist.

It rained forever until the dogs lost all their fur and people's hair stuck out like rotten seaweed. The King of Jau got stuck to his throne and the sacred bullock's eyes grew larger, and then went blind. The seed sprouted in the granaries and then it was served up to the men, just like that, and they were infused with such vigor that their cocks grew immeasurably and they reeled about, with the things in their hands, mute with the magic.

The rain rained so much that the snakes left their snake-holes
and stretched out next to sticks, raising their heads
with only the greatest effort. Moss multiplied in the tureens of milk
and the milk of cows turned to whey which curdled in urine.
That year the rain rained so much that even the beaches grew
branches and the rushing streams spawned fish and even the iron washed itself alone and diamonds started to tumble around the stones hollowed out for milling flour. The birds themselves nearly all died and the only ones that saved themselves were those with white feathers, which the distance attracted, then ate.

And the rain was good for fossils, and there were minerals
that came alive and even common stones that were transmuted into
flesh.

That year the rain rained so much that memory was rendered
meaningless. Throats were clogged with sludge and the brows that the aged held in their hands fused with their fingers,
and their arms fused to their legs and their graceful gestures smelt their bodies and the youngest children ended up glued to their mothers' breasts.
Only our mouths dared to remain open and when the rain
finally stopped, huge black birds flew from them and disappeared into the distance. And the drought came back and the world dried out. Now the ancient flesh has turned to dirt,
the fossils to stone and the branches to humus.
And footsteps gradually polished the forms.

That year the rain rained so much
that memory was rendered meaningless.