Keeping on with my English versions of poems written by Brazilian poets :-), I introduce you to another great one: Carlos Drummond de Andrade (the picture shows his statue in Rio). He goes from melancholy to humor in a very subtle way. Please forgive all the imperfections in my translation: my wish to share beats my perfectionist side.
João loved Teresa, who loved Raimundo, who loved Maria,
who loved Joaquim, who loved Lili,
who loved no one.
João went to the United States,
Teresa, to a convent
Raimundo died in a disaster
Maria became a spinster
Joaquim commited suicide,
And Lili got married to J.Pinto Fernandes,
who wasn´t a part of this story.
"You´re past the age of suffering
for those things."
Oh, so there´s a right age to suffer or not to suffer any longer for those, those things?
Things should only happen to make us suffer at the right age of suffering?
Or we shouldn´t suffer for things that make us suffer because they came in late, and this is a quiet time ?
And if I´m past the age of suffering, is it because I´m dead, and dead is the age of not feeling things, those things?