Poetry in translation from Spittoon Literary Magazine Issue 3:
里斯本 sanbini terrasse
I Am in Lisbon
Trans. Stephen Nashef
I am in Lisbon.
I have been here before
the height of tedium over and over in the height of forgetting.
Everything around me swells and piles up over and over folding and frothing
until it sinks and then dies.
Stalely, predictably, for-millennia-unchangingly bored.
I pinch some dirt and it scatters again
as it falls.
Change is a series of drawn-out repetitions:
it bores it lets down and then it puts on a show.
Show after show one after the other, the same and the same
the known and the unbounded known.
Humans are tiny old tunnels in the depths of the ocean
whirlpools twist up inside them, inside the sea
drowning unknowing fighting for breath.
Humans inside the light when unknowing is light.
Now I am inside these people.
The cold dripping crowds are now part of me
and my only part is now me.
Night is in the voice in the light and the air and the water
in the ocean’s edge.
And some simply shake off their language,
shake off their skin and live in the froth.
And then you don’t write what you’ve not written before
you write what humans have not written before
you write with froth and with light, with voice and with heat.
Write with the you from the time you thought you were awake,
the you from the time when you were alive and all that surrounds you.
Sanbini Terrasse, Lisbon
28th December 2015