João Luís Barreto Guimarães

Bio: João Luís Barreto Guimarães was born in Porto, Portugal and is a reconstrutive surgeon. He is the author of thirteen books of poetry and anthologies such as Mediterranean (Mediterrâneo, Lisbon, Quetzal, 2016) chosen for the National Award António Ramos Rosa 2017 for best poetry book edited in Portugal in 2016, also a finalist for the Camaiori International Prize 2018 in Italy. Nomad (Nómada, Lisbon, Quetzal, 2018) was chosen for the Best Poetry Book of the Year Bertrand Award in 2018. His poems have been published in nineteen countries and have appeared in the International Poetry Review, Tupelo Quarterly, The London Magazine, Salamander, and others.

Physics Problem

to José Antonio Mesa Toré
If the
Malaga–Cordoba TGV travels at 300 km per hour
(the hills spilling waterfalls
of Mudéjar architecture) and I
saunter to the bar car at 2 km per hour
(over the Andalusian soil immortal olive trees) at
what speed
does the heart rush to contemplate those
flowered terraces of fiestas
(the elegant Arabic alleyways) the
sepia arches of the cathedral?

a) 150 km per hour
b) 600 km per hour
c) 302 km per hour (Translated by Calvin Olsen)


Problema de Física


a José Antonio Mesa Toré

Se o TGV
Málaga – Córdoba segue a trezentos à hora
(as colinas derramando cascatas
de casas mudéjares) e eu
sigo para o vagão-bar a 2 km por hora
(sobre a terra andaluza oliveiras imortais) com
que pressa
o coração corre a poder contemplar os
pátios floridos das fiestas
(as esguias ruelas árabes) os
arcos sépia da Catedral?

a) 150 km por hora
b) 600 km por hora
c) 302 km por hora

Just Yesterday in Pocinho

Valle do Nídeo
Douro
Reserva 2009
14% vol.
And
here we are (you and I) nomads
at this sacred river where a distant cousin of ours
(some 30,000
years ago) left etched in stone
on a magic altar of shale this
couple
of cervids (if not striking a
pose too bold for a sanctuary’s taste
at least giving the impression they’ve been holding it
since the
Paleolithic Age). Only Homo sapiens in the
elegant Côa museum:
two or three inventions discovered practically yesterday
(that of having managed to domesticate fire
the use of a spoken language
creation of fine art
with signs). Such a long migration northward from
Kenya till up here—
I could have spoken a little more about this slow awakening
but the wine makes
me sleepy.
(Translated by Calvin Olsen)

Ainda ontem no Pocinho

Valle do Nídeo
Douro
Reserva 2009 14% vol. E
aqui estamos (tu e eu) nómadas
neste rio sagrado onde um primo nosso afastado
(alguns 30
mil anos) deixou picotado em pedra
num mágico altar de xisto este
casal
de cervídeos (se não em
pose ousada para o que deve um santuário
pelo menos dando a ideia de estarem ali naquilo
já desde o
Paleolítico). Homo sapiens apenas no
belo Museu do Côa:
duas ou três invenções são desde ontem notícia
(isso de termos logrado o fogo domesticado
usarmos linguagem falada
criarmos belas artes
com signos). Longa migração para norte desde o
Quénia até aqui –
podia falar um pouco desse lento despertar
mas já me adormece
o vinho.

At Ten Past Ten

In Malta the day
always happens in the outside lane
(these things a stubborn remnant of the British rule).
In the city of Mdina the
church used two clocks (one
displayed the true time to call the faithful
the other a fake time
to fool the devil). The
fiend should not have stuck
his nose in matters of time
(even a stopped clock is right
two times a day)
at that hour the city escaped the evil eye—
be it Christ
be it the clock
they awaited us with open arms
at ten past ten. (Translated by Calvin Olsen)

Às dez e dez

Em Malta o dia
acontece sempre pela faixa do lado
(coisas que foram ficando da ocupação inglesa).
Na cidade de Mdina a
igreja usava dois relógios (um
mostrava a hora certa para chamar os fiéis
o outro a hora errada
para enganar o diabo). O
demo não deveria ater-se
nos assuntos do tempo
(mesmo se a hora parada acerta
duas vezes por dia)
àquela hora a cidade escapava ao mau olhado –
quer Cristo
quer o relógio
esperavam-nos com um abraço aberto
nas dez e dez.

That Which Is Infinite

in memoriam Paulo Cunha e Silva

Another day begins now and it’s one more
day without you. We wandered around the city
making sure to recognize you
(none of the names that passed happened
to be yours). Where is the
happiness we built our house on
(searching for a window tenderness
our roof) where
is your thought faster than the speed of light?
Where are you that we don’t have you? Where
is your energy? The
boats that dance in the river all day long
without rest (the waves that never give up
replicating on the Foz) the
mirrors in this Café that don’t shut off even at night
(the rainbow of love in the avenue’s stoplights)—
maybe you’ve been sown into the streets
amid whatever never stops (in a
frenzy of particles)
who knows maybe you exist in everything
that never rests (inside whatever
doesn’t shut off:) time
which is infinite. (Translated by Calvin Olsen)

Aquilo que é infinito

in memoriam Paulo Cunha e Silva

Começa agora outro dia e é mais
outro dia sem ti. Errámos pela cidade
cuidando reconhecer-te
(nenhum dos nomes que passam acontece
ser o teu). Onde está a
alegria onde assentávamos casa
(a procura por janela a ternura
por telhado) onde o
teu pensamento mais veloz que o próprio dia?
Onde estás que não te temos? Onde
a tua energia? Os
barcos que bailam no rio o dia inteiro
sem descanso (as ondas que não desistem de
se repetir na foz) os
espelhos deste Café que nem à noite se desligam
(o arco-íris do amor nos semáforos da avenida) –
talvez tu tenhas ficado semeado pelas ruas
naquilo que nunca para (num
frenesim de partículas)
quem sabe agora existas em tudo
o que não descansa (nisso que
não se desliga:) o tempo
que é infinito.
Calvin Olsen’s poetry and translations have recently appeared in Poet Lore, The National Poetry Review, AGNI, Asymptote, and The Cortland Review, among others. He lives in North Carolina, USA, where he is a doctoral student and the poetry editor for The Carolina Quarterly. More of his work can be found at calvin-olsen.com.

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