Jaula / Cage -- Astrid Cabral

We were honored here at Smith to host this Monday a visit by the Brazilian poet, Astrid Cabral, and her translator, Alexis Levitin, for a lunchtime reading of poems from her collection, "Cage," newly published in a biligual edition by Host Publications. These are beautiful poems, in both languages, many evoking the animals, real and imagined, of Astrid's childhood in the Amazon region of Brazil -- Astrid grew up in Manaus. It was great to hear them in her voice, and it was exciting to see such interest expressed here on campus, with more than 40 people in attendance.

Here's one of my favorites among this collection -- about watchng whales, on t.v.-- in Portuguese first and then in Alexis' translation. (Photo above courtesy of Pamela Petro.)

Baleia Albina

Pelo úmido azul
a baleia albina baila
e assombra
a sala em penumbra
barbatanas rêmiges
a massagear
volumosa massa d’água
o trêmulo transparente
corpo marinho...
Marítima mamífera
a espraiar
a cútis de elanca
enquanto as gordas vastas ancas
nadam dançam
se lançam
pelos pastos salgados
de algas e sargaços...
Será menina
a baleia albina?
Será adulta
a náufraga lua animal?
Ou centenária
a submarina cetácea nau?
Senhora dona do aquático sítio
supondo-se
solitária soberana
desfila tranqüila na líquida passarela
e revela
coreografia de estrela
e solfeja
cantiga de amor arquiantiga
e corteja
sem saber-se a prima-dona
de um mega espetáculo
sem pressentir
a intimidade exposta
à ribalta de mil olhos
pelo globo em volta…
Como o mar tão vasto
cabe entre sofás?
como nos toca o mar
se a pele não nos molha?
À noite os gatos são pardos
À noite somos jona e pinóquios
acomodados na barriga da sala
essa estranha baleia
cujas paredes entranhas
o oceano invade
e lambe até tarde…
Somos então outra casta de peixes
pescados nas malhas
de eletrônica rede.

White Whale

Through humid hued blue
the white whale weaves
a startling dance for
the darkened room
fins fanning
massaging
vast masses of water
transparent trembling
body of the sea…
Marine mammal
stretching out
its elastic sea…
while its vast and massive hips
weave wave
wander
through salty pastures
of branching thallus and sargasso…
Could it be a child,
the white white whale?
Could it be an adult
shipwrecked animal moon?
Or centenarian
a submarine cetacean ship?
Lady mistress of that aquatic place
imagining herself
solitary sovereign
she parades tranquil on the liquid runway
and reveals
the choreography of a star
and sings solfeggios
of old love songs ancient of ancients
and flirts
without knowing herself the prima donna
of a mega-spectacular
without foreseeing
that intimacy exposed
by the footlights of a thousand eyes
throughout the whole surrounding globe…
How can the sea so vast
fit between sofas?
How can the sea touch us
if it doesn’t wet our skin?
At night all cats are black
At night we are all jonas and pinochios
housed in the belly of the room
that strange whale
whose walls bowels
the ocean invades
and laps till it grows late…
And so we are another sort of fish
caught in the meshes
of an electronic web.