VOICE FROM A STONE Poem by Mário Cesariny de Vasconcelos

I don't adore the past
I'm not three times a master
I made no pact with the underworld
that's not why I'm here
sure I saw Osiris but at the time he was called Luiz
sure I was with Isis but I told her my name was João
no word is ever complete
not even in German which has such big ones
and so I'll never succeed in telling you what I know
unless by an arrow from the wind's blue and black bow

I won't say as someone else did that I know I know nothing
I know that I've always known a few things
and that this counts for something
and that I hurl whirlwinds and see the rainbow
believing it to be the supreme agent
of the world's heart
vessel of freedom purged of menstruation
living rose before our eyes
The future city where "poetry will no longer give rhythm
to action since it will march ahead of it"
is still far far away
Will there be an end to the preachers of death?
An end to the reapers of love?
An end to the torture of eyes?
Then pass me that jackknife
because there's a lot we need to start pruning
pass it don't look at me as if I were a wizard
entrusted with the miracle of truth
"the swinging of an ax and the goal of not being sacrificed won't build anything under the sun"
nothing is written after all