Ana Luísa Amaral , Assignations and other poems

Ana Luísa Amaral has published over thirty books of poetry, a play, a novel, essays, and several books for children. She is translated into over twenty languages and published in several countries. She herself has translated the poetry of Emily Dickinson, William Shakespeare or John Updike. A collection of her poems has come out in the USA, with New Directions (What’s in a Name, transl. Margaret Jull Costa, 2019). She was awarded national and international prizes and distinctions, among which the Correntes d’Escritas/Casino da Póvoa Prize, the Giuseppe Acerbi Prize for Poetry, the Great Prize of the Portuguese Association of Writers, the Prize PEN for Fiction, the Fondazione Roma International Prize or the Prize of Essay Jacinto Prado Coelho. Apart from writing poetry, her academic research fields are Feminist and Queer Studies.

The following poems have been translated by Margaret Jull Costa. She has been a literary translator for over thirty years and has translated works by novelists such as Eça de Queiroz, José Saramago and Javier Marías, as well as the poetry of Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen, Ana Luísa Amaral and Fernando Pessoa.

My tree is free, I can see her from here, her branches swaying to the rhythm of my steps

Like an ancient chair that needs no name, that’s her: my tree, and I sail towards her like a ship, now

Would she summon an army of bees, a batallion of ants from the bottom of the garden, if she felt another body sitting there?

I imagine her singing and announcing she’s free and ready to receive me

She has just thrown down a myriad of leaves onto me, an offering of jumbled, dying colours, and the hymn pierced through with black that I’m writing for her is all the richer for that golden dust –

just like my white nightdress which gravely displays its stains, its smell of a death foretold; the sweet weariness after love –

Marcações

A minha árvore está livre, vejo-a daqui, os ramos oscilando ao ritmo dos meus passos

Como cadeira antiga que não precisa nome, assim é ela: minha, e a ela aporto como navio, agora

Convocaria exército de abelhas, batalhão de formigas do fundo do jardim, se sentisse outro corpo?

Imagino-a cantando, dizendo que está livre, se preparou para me receber

Acaba de lançar miríade de folhas sobre mim, oferta descomposta pela cor, e o hino atravessado a negro que lhe faço ficou mais rico na poeira de oiro –

tal como a minha camisa branca que seriamente exibe as suas manchas, o seu cheiro de morte anunciada: esse cansaço bom depois do amor –

The Bee

The bee made her triumphal entry

on this pot plant, a miniature conifer that gave up the ghost some time ago and has since been colonised by an ivy plant with leaves like clover and tiny lilac flowers

The tree, now withered and dark, is almost completely covered by the ivy’s tendrils: asphyxiation in green and shades of blue, so strangely beautiful

And the bee, a wasp-waisted prima donna, stepped onto the stage of this sky tinged with spring

She tasted the flowers, probing them deeply: checking and testing, the infallible seductress, methodical and blithe, drank from every one

Then, after a glancing flight around the conifer, and a final round of sipping from each flower, in case there was a trace of nectar, the bee left, triumphant

And when she left she carried in the pockets of her black-and-gold-striped body an infinitesimal portion of life

A abelha

A abelha fez a sua entrada triunfal

neste pequeno pinheiro de varanda morto há já algum tempo, colonizado agora por uma hera de folhas como trevos, ínfimas flores lilases

As gavinhas da hera ao longo do pinheiro seco e escuro cobrem-no quase todo: uma asfixia em verde e tons de azul, tão estranhamente bela

E ela, prima-dona de elegante cintura, sobrevoou o palco deste céu tingido a primavera

Provou as flores em exame profundo: verificou, testou, sedutora infalível, e em frente a cada uma foi bebendo, metódica e feliz

Depois, um voo rasante em roda do pinheiro, uma prova final a cada flor, talvez rasto de néctar faltasse, e saiu triunfante

Quando partiu daqui, transportava nos bolsos do corpo matizado a negro e ouro uma porção infinitesimal de vida