New Moon

“Quenguêlêquêze! … “Quenguêlêquêze! … (New Moon)
 
It appeared, the new moon,
and the great news]
- Quenguêlêquêze! … - it went from mouth to mouth
marking the faces with strange expressions,
crossing the forest, villages and mountains,
in an enormous joy, an insane joy

Madly
Disturbingly…

Fantastic dances
filling the bodies with elastic vibrations,
fervent

undulating wombs, bare torsos, hips…

At the sound of clapping hands
the men swaying,
went singing
the fears of strange vindicative souls,
ancient Wars
with braves godless enemies
- clear, brazen obscenities,
that the women listened with laughter
setting more and more fire
to the rhythmic heat of the sensual dances.

“Quenguêlêquêze!... Quenguêlêquêze!...”

A woman came from time to time,
undulating the spine,
swinging the hips voluptuously ,
and in front  of a man, face to face
both began to simulate secrets.

- In the grove
an aeolian grumble
gave to the scene, under the moonlight, a devilish touch.


“Quêze. Quenguêlêquêze! …”
 
A woman leaves quietly
with an older woman
in the shadows, heading to the stable
holding a little child.
It was dark and an odd smell
spread in the air
of soggy ashes,
rest of fish and cattle excrement.
The wind, trespassing the bamboo fence,
brought outside a stifling air
a putrid air.
The women entered with the child
and while the oldest one
held the child and showed it to the moon
saying “ look , it is the moon”,
the other one, raising her hand,
launched right to the moon a luminous torch
- the clapping of hands began to fade…
and the moon was growing… it was growing…
slowly…
as if it was set in fire and drowned in its bed.
They laid down the child,
there in the putrid dirty, in the dark,
and breast fed it

Then, the father arrived,
covered the child with caresses
softly holding its elbows
He took it in his arms and sang
this warm song:
“My son, I am contented!
Now I don’t fear that someone
mock you in the street,
and say, when you make a mistake, that your mother
did not show the moon to you!

Now you have your years open
to understand everything;
your chest will face fearless, the roars
of wild animals without trembling…
My son, I am contented!
You are now an intelligent being,
and so you will be growing, you shall be a strong man.

Until you become tired
one day very old
with children surrounding you
feeling your knee folding
when be time for death to search you.
My son, I am contented!
Now, yes, I am father! …”
 
In the village, slowly,
the clapping hands began to fade…
and the moon was growing…
- Growing
As a sigh...