823 | GENESIS

Painting Biagio Fortini, Italy

Genesis

Every poem begins in the morning, with the sun. Even
if the poem is not visible (that means rainy sky)
the poem is what explains everything, it gives light
to the earth, to the sky and with clouds in between
– light is bothersome when it is excessive. Then
the poem rises with the mists that the day drags along;
it slips through the treetops, sings with the birds
and runs with the brooks that nobody knows
where they come from and where they go to.
The poem tells how everything is made:
except itself, which begins by a grey chance,
like this morning, and ends, also by chance,
with the sun wishing to break through.

Nuno Júdice, Portugal, 1949-2024
Translation Germain Droogenbroodt

from “A Condescendência do Ser“, Assirio & Alvim, 1988