An Equation in Hyde Park

Photo by Alyssa L. Miller (via Flickr)

it is raining in

hyde park today

and i am on

the other side

of the equator

sitting in the sun

with a cat

between my feet

which are bare

and tinged

slightly

pink [private]

 

it is raining in

hyde park today

and i remember going

to a park

with squared-off grass

with the boy with the green

box who had an upside down

photo of a

nordic forest on the

wall of his bedroom

and who liked to count

to 12 after going through

the gate

we used to walk

through the chill

and sit in the park and

then lie down and the

furry black dressing gown

already at home

and the roommate called

steve who had blue eyes

and loved

a japanese girl

 

it is raining in

hyde park today and i don’t know

what to say to

him, now sitting

a few tables before me

and who in the movies

would be the one who says yes

but this is not the movies

i hear the voice as an echo

in the hole of reality

and i compose myself wondering

what could i tell him

that the gps worked

and marked the meeting point

on the screen

but the message

only arrived

the following day

 

it is raining in

hyde park today

and i could say that my

heart has been ripped out

through my mouth and left

forgotten on a stone

with the blood still hot

 

yes, it is raining in

hyde park and

one or two

or

three

have descended

to hell

but he

has to ascend

winding up the path

the belvedere the runways

ogni sp’ranza lasciate

che entrate

is there life yet to come?

he asks before he passes

and he carries a dictaphone

and our eyes meet

but only for a second

and I don’t remember any more

about that day

but later

those eyes

return to my mind

like the interference

of a voice singing

in lithuanian

and going up the hill

in a car

 

it is raining in

hyde park and that pair

of forgotten eyes

comes now to hold my gaze

singing a song

in another language

and that meeting

of glances distracts me

for a moment

from the equation[/private]

Translated by Eloise Stevens.

Eloise Stevens has a degree in French and Portuguese from Oxford University. She enjoys translating literature from all over the globe, but has a particular soft spot for Brazilian Modernist poetry.

Marília Garcia

About Marília Garcia

Marília Garcia was born in Rio de Janeiro in 1979. She is the author of Vinte Poemas para o seu Walkman (‘Twenty Poems for your Walkman’, Cosac Naify 2007) and Engano Geográfico (‘Geographical Trick’, 7Letras 2012). She works with translation.

Marília Garcia was born in Rio de Janeiro in 1979. She is the author of Vinte Poemas para o seu Walkman (‘Twenty Poems for your Walkman’, Cosac Naify 2007) and Engano Geográfico (‘Geographical Trick’, 7Letras 2012). She works with translation.

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