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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.

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.