# 47 – “Submerged poem”, by Roberto Piva

 

Submerged poem

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I was a bit of your violent voice, Maldoror,

when the green angel’s eyelashes wrinkled the

chimneys from the street I walked

And saw your girls destroyed like frogs by

a hundred birds strongly passing by

 Nobody cried in your realm, Maldoror, where the

infinite landed in the palm of my empty hand

And prodigious boys were assaulted by the absent

Creator’s soul

 There was a more than unbiased revolver spied on by

Amoebas in the ceiling gnawed by your butterflies’ urine

An always big blue garden used to lay down stains in

my cranked up eyes

 I walked those paths looking with beserk tenderness

at girls in the big revelry in the beds

of dizzy insects

 Your dissatisfied chant sowed the old clamor of the

slaughtered pirates

 While the enigmatically shaped world stripped itself bare

to me, in delicate mazurkas

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Translated by Wagner Miranda

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