Poems by Maria João Cantinho

​ 
1.
 
Chegada a Valência
 
Pisei o solo de Valência e chorei como uma criança
talvez tivesse olhado para o céu, mais uma vez,
enquanto as lágrimas me queimavam a pele.
 
Este sou eu, o negro de carne ulcerada
Esta é a ferida
que resta de um homem
um animal doente, soçobrando
nos escombros da sua memória.
 
Pisei o solo de Valência e chorei como uma criança
deixei para trás os meus mortos
para trás a minha língua
e os meus sonhos,
a minha amada, morrendo
sob os golpes dos seus algozes.

​
Arrival to Valencia
 
I stepped on the ground of Valencia and wept like a child
Perhaps I had glanced to the sky, once more,
While tears burnt my skin.
 
This is me, the darkness of ulcerated flesh
This is my wound
What is left of a man
A sick animal, kneeling
In the wreckage of his memory.
 
I stepped on the ground of Valencia and wept like a child
Left my dead behind
Behind my tongue
And my dreams,
My soul, dying
By the blows of its executioners.



2.
 
Abate diário
 
Porque só se pode sonhar
no lugar de um outro, escrevo
e ainda assim sucumbo
numa mudez sem saída
porque a língua não salva o olhar
nem a mão, nenhuma mão, pode tocar-te.
 
Percorres, de olhos no chão,
essa linha traçada pela promessa
pela qual trocaste todo o dinheiro
trazendo os filhos,
a quem, sorrindo, falaste
de um novo mundo
longe da guerra     longe da fome
 
esperaste longos dias à deriva
enquanto a criança morria nos braços da mãe
e a terra se avistava ao longe
 
cantaste, baixinho, enquanto choravas
e vestias a mortalha do olhar
deus, esse deus, onde estava agora?
Nenhum canto  nenhum salmo
o vento calou-se sob o mar
 
Mais tarde seria um outro
no lugar de um outro, sem fim,
a luz do mar é cruel, senhor
e a terra está cada vez mais próxima
mas os lábios secam, a fome devasta
as noites são frias  frias
 
deus, esse deus, o deus dos outros, onde estava agora?
 
A terra está tão perto
os olhos cegaram-me
de tanto olhar a luz deste mar
a promessa fez-se noite
e canto, baixinho, um salmo
à espera que ele nos responda
 
deus, esse deus, abandonou-nos?
A terra estava tão perto. À distância de um sonho.



Daily slaughter
 
Because one can only dream
in someone else’s place, I write
and still succumb
on a muteness without an exit
because the language doesn’t save the gaze
nor the hand, no hand, can touch you.
 
You go through, with eyes on the ground,
That line drawn by promise
For which you traded all money for
Bringing children,
To whom, smiling, you talked to
Of a new world
Far from war   far from hunger
 
You have waited long days adrift
While the child died in the arms of the mother
And the land was seen from afar
 
You sang, quietly, while crying
And dressed the shroud of gaze
God, that God, where was He now?
No choirs no psalms
The wind went quiet over the sea
 
Later would be another one
In the place of another one, endless,
The sea’s light is cruel, Lord
And land keeps getting closer
But lips are drying, hunger devastates
The nights are cold cold
 
God, that God, the God of others, where was He now?
 
The land is so close
The eyes blind me
Of staring at the sea’s light
The promise made itself night
And I sing, quietly, a psalm
Waiting for an answer
 
God, that God, has forsaken us?
The land was so close. At the distance of a dream.

Maria João Cantinho (Portugal) was born in 1963 in Lisbon. PhD in Philosophy, she has published 4 poetry, 2 essay and 4 fiction books. She teaches, is a literary critic and essayist, she writes regularly for prestige publications such as JL (Jornal de Letras), Colóquio-Letras, and so forth. She is an executive editor of an online magazine, Caliban. She has received the Glória de Sant'Anna award in 2017 for her book "Do Ínfimo" (poetry), which was also nominated in 2017 for the portuguese PEN Club award. In 2020 she received the portuguese PEN club award for best essay with her book " Walter Benjamin, Melancolia e Revolução". She is a member of the APE (Portuguese association of writers), of the portuguese PEN club and of the APCL (Portuguese Association of Literary Critics).

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