Life is a miracle.
Each flower,
with its form, colour, aroma
each flower is a miracle.
Each bird,
with its plumage, its flight, its song
each bird is a miracle.
The space, infinite,
the space is a miracle.
The time, infinite,
the time is a miracle.
The memory is a miracle.
The conscience is a miracle.
Everything is a miracle.
Everything but the death.
-Blessed is the death, the end of all miracles!
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He called me a flower!
Well, all of us and everything.
Everything is a miracle and yet death is blessed. And I suppose if all of life is a positive, so should the end, since it is part of the process. It's a unique way of looking at life...whether that is based on the image of life as a miracle or simply that it's a rationalization I can't say, but it is intriguing.
As usual Bandeira says what needs to be said without excess verbiage, using that stripped down essence he often writes about.
And again, I thank the translator. -
Life is filled with things made of miracles, and memory like a bridge to all of these... I think this is another of the remarkable Bandeira poems on OP, remarkable for its thoughts...and ideas. He sweeps from the small to the great, puts the reader in all of these things...gives us a lot to consider, and an ending that leaves the greatest wondering. The words seem simple and easy to understand, it is the ideas that will leave us to ponder...excellent poetry from this wonderful writer, and the translation brings it all to English in the same simple and open words that leave us free to imagine and wonder over the brilliant messages...excellent work in translation too...PK
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