From Amazonia to New York (11/09/2001)
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  • I

    Tree from you I have taken the wild pain
    those cries, in the air in the river
    Animals flee from the shelter of your branches
    deafening noises of monkeys and araras
    the upright trunk, falls as it blackens.
    The sloth moves slowly, quietly
    the ariranha and the tamanduá
    ears pricked at each sound
    trees tell their stories
    life when it is submerged
    underwater among the fish
    feeding off fruit
    already at sunset noises get louder
    stunned birds cry out
    in the trees
    the jaburus the macucus the inhambu.
    in the underbrush the wind is still
    long ago in a time of vibrant,
    pubescent colours, water-swollen
    today is yellow, green at the beginning.
    bones, pieces of wood, thousands of insects
    They light a blinding fire
    who can pull out this headless arrow?
    where can that evil be deposed?
    everywhere on earth
    noises interfere, memories of the dead
    the sky that accompanies us today
    has no stars.
    will the face of pain disappear?
    vibrations make air fertile
    thunder booms and lightning flashes
    Everything blazes: Shower of blossoms
    mangabas, cajú waves of breeze
    the giant trees in the forest know
    a tongue of fire that destroys them
    before by the great river cobras would appear,
    boicininga, jiboias, alligators,
    the jaguar, the yellow-brown lynx,
    the branches crowded with parrots
    iguana, irara, an the sloth
    jabutí, the bog turtle
    the caititú, the chestnut-haired boar
    the shrieks of the crying monkeys
    the voices of thousands of birds.
    the outline of memory takes shape: it is waves
    the wood lives along with the fire.
    everything is flying: bird-leaves
    leaf-butterflies colour-light
    on the tree-tops
    the black eyes, the power of condor
    tanato, the small gull
    a bird-nest his house
    that fluttering among the boughs
    it is his wings
    nothing hinders. The forest keeps falling
    the cries the wars, the dead
    A ravine, a smoke halo
    nothing breathes
    precious bird, alive and singing
    turn on a world of visions with your song
    rare fruits do not open to ripen
    the soul of the forest takes hold of the universe
    trees show their entrails
    the body, the sprouts covered with green grains
    the roots, the oblong leaves
    with nervatures and veins
    and the little animals, the humming-bird’s dance
    zechirino, cross the country of the shadows
    the wind among the leaves starts making itself heard
    it confounds itself with other echoes
    capeba who’s born from the waters
    feels its leaves licked by the fire
    it buckles, all swollen and wounded
    it breathes: life is still here
    still for a while, keep on
    breathing, do not stop
    breathe, breathe, keep going
    still here the origin of life

    II

    Metallic trees full of gold and silver
    they touch the clouds, and your dreams.
    A metallic bird crosses the sky
    flying flying, goes on goes on, where where?
    the metallic bird becomes an arrow
    breaks down the crystal trees
    the face of pain hurls its cry
    running down the walls.
    I want to remember various stories
    memories of unburied dead
    Names are born, offerings to those who left
    and the heart of the giant tree
    crumbles and reassembles, endless matter
    A cloud of dust waves
    inside the body of the wind
    its voice is piercing.
    The greediness of the fire
    pierces through the roots of the sun
    suffocating black clouds
    red-hot clouds over the world
    a roar of engines, saws, axes
    Music and forlorn imaginary circles
    clouds and yellow dust moving
    From the broken tree-trunks metal fragments burst out
    asbestos threads, blood runnels, souls.

    From the Hudson Bay dolphins
    call for light and harmony
    the beginning of a new way of thinking
    an army of ants in a row
    is carrying off its leaves like souls.

    Márcia Theóphilo
    Rome, 11/09/2001
    (English version by Riccardo Duranti)