Le cahier de Montréal – Untitled song of goodbyes (N. 2)

In the palaces of New York
I don’t think of you
No, New York is much too fast
But in Montreal,
Along the red maple trees
The days pass slowly
With the peace of it’s thousand gardens
It feels just like
Having you here.

Le cahier de Montréal - Untitled song of goodbyes

It is a pitty you
Don’t have fond memories
Of Montréal
You should give it a second chance
For a start, there’s all
These Portuguese tartes
That you like.

I’ve been thinking
Of you a lot these days
All these colours you’d like to see
The thousand sweets
You’d certainly taste
And the fun we would poke
At this curious affair of a city
this is

Myself I don’t go much
to the patisseries
I prefer straight dark chocolate
You know
I was never as sweet as you.

I’ll leave you all these little heavens
Unspoilled

So come,
Forget all these lists I
Secretly made for you
And come
Wait until I’ve left
And we must not meet
Then come
Bring your new lover
He can hold you when you’re cold
He can help you when you feel shy
You could be
Happy
Here.

Le cahier de Montréal - The Song of Autumn

Among the pebble paths
Of the Japanese garden
I grasped the tenderness
I longed to share

The cold, dry sun of fall
Heightens the red of the maples
And deepens the greens
Of the faultless, countless, lawns.
All is quiet
All is calm
All seems right.

Now I remember
You blushing warmly
As you leaned your head
against my chest
To see the cherry blossom

Then spring passed
Winds came
And like a petal,
You flew.
These autumn colours
Now hint of perfection
But there’s no blossom
.
And there’s no you.

Le cahier de Montréal - Victoria Square

Victoria,
You stand so alone
On top of that column
Mêmi si personne te regarde
Maintenant on parle français
Even the subway entrance
Is signaled « Metropolitain »

Victoria, I won’t come out
to see you either.


Victoria, I’m too tired.
Aren’t you?

Le cahier de Montréal - Station Lionel-Groulx

There’s this typical
Montrealaise beauty
Sitting in front of me
She can’t notice I’m here
O f c o u r s e,
But then this other girl
Boards the train
So I’ll write a poem
And they’ll be jealous
Of each other
when they read it


But I live eight thousand miles south
They’ll never know.

Le cahier de Montréal - Station Namur

The automated
Check-out
teller system
At walmart’s Décarie
Highway megastore
Spoke to me.

In Portuguese.

And I felt curiously in control.

I didn’t get the thermal underpants.
But the low cut
Heel shield
Sweat free
Sport socks
That I won’t need.

Is that what home is?

Le cahier de Montréal - On writing

My feelings
Anxietys and fears
Are big city born
Children of heroes
Of London and New York

I’ve seen too many castles
To go back to my village
Even if it’s the village of a million

I cannot unsee it
Now I’m in Montreal
In search of Cohen,
Layton
The Laurentians
Of course they’re not here
They left for the same reasons.

e cahier de Montréal - Montréal

Um lugar que leva
Muito a sério


suas batatas.

Le cahier de Montréal - The Long Sherbrooke

J’aime bien le soleil
But I prefer to be among the shadows
And the might
Of big city buildings.
I’ll take the Ritz-Carlton
right by La Montagne
Lee Chateau and Manulife
Belmont et Le Cartier
Awestruck by the long Sherbrooke
That goes to McGill
Drummond, Stanley, Peel
(As if Sir Robert himself
Wasn’t towering enough)


Et moi, si timide...

Le cahier de Montréal - The Little Red Notebook of Even Smaller Poems

I’ve been to McGill
The arts building was under
Renovation
I’ve been to the university bookstore
It bore me
All I could find was a companion
To your latest book
And a collection of poems
By Irving Layton
For the sum of twenty-six dollars.

I will follow your advice
But later.

For now let’s stick to
The real things
Like moka and pad thai
And comment on the waste of my time
That’s all my meager budget
And fifteen more days can afford.

Le cahier de Montréal - Murray Hill

Sitting on a bench
Along with some foreign spiders
I can’t even care about
I look towards Leonard’s
Old house
I wonder Len, will you come visit
These old quarters
and will you
do it while I’m here ?
I can wait at the park a little longer,
I don’t mind.
The sun is high, the air is fresh
I don’t care about the odd spider.

(here it comes, creeping towards me -
comme d’habitude)

I’ve been to the old park house
And it’s spooky restrooms
They still smell like the winter of fourty-two
And look even older,
Only not as gracious.
Will you come ?
(Leonard, the spider,
We ought to name it someday)

Le cahier de Montréal - L’Université de

Des bâtiments lourds
Vraiment lourds
Carrément lourds
Avec des petites fenêtres
Cachés d’un ciel trop bleu
Les chateaus ont tous peur du froid
En s’abrittant de la neige.

Mais les filles
Elles ne la connaissent pas
Elles rigolent toujours
A sortir de leur classes
Et donnent ainsi un peu du rouge
À tout ce gris carré.

Le petit cahier rouge de Montréal - La Cleopâtre

The streets are empty
An eerie air for the first
Night of autumn
The fall has come fast
Mais chez la Cleopâtre
At seedy St. Lawrence’s
Il y fait encore chaud.

Le petit cahier rouge de Montréal - In Atlanta

Briefly
But I’ve seen Dr. King’s
Transistor Radio
I took a picture of it for my dad
I’m not sure whether he’ll be impressed about
It being Dr. King’s
But he’ll sure like to see an old transistor radio.

He used to have one
My dad, that is
It’s likely he’s seen many
But not one like that
Not in Brazil
That’s an RCA

He’d only see one of those in the movies
Or newsreels
Maybe one about the recent
Marches for civil rights
In the U.S.
Maybe that very same one.

Seeing that gadget on display
I’m not sure I’m impressed about
It being Dr. King’s either.
I just like the fact that it somehow
Connects me to my father
As I’m in Atlanta
Briefly.

Dos pequenos poemas sem futuro (3)

Una cajita feliz en Punta Carretas
Helado de vanilla nel Palacio Salvo
Disco d'El Gordo Troilo o 60's Beat en la calle Florida
(Con Wayne Fontana y su Groovy Kind of Love)
Areia fina doendo na perna
No vento das dunas baixas de Rainha do Mar.


As frias em que eu já me meti
E dão saudade
No gelo do sol de domingo.

Dos pequenos poemas sem futuro (2)

De tanto dito pelo não dito
De dito por desdito
Dito não e contradito
E tanto não não não
Dito não dito nunca disse
Que doravante adito
Undécima cláusula
escondida no meio
De tudo isso:
De vez em quando
Bem de vez em quando
Um sim,
Três letras, pequenininho,
Resolverá todo eventual conflito.

Dos pequenos poemas sem futuro (1)

Nessas descrições de perfil que andam por aí
Um dia vou escrever a verdade:
Tenho predileção por algumas palavras,
como "escafandro", "plúmbeo" ou "plátano"
E não gosto,
- Mesmo -
.
.
.
De "drágeas".
(Ora, onde já se viu?)