And the tongue, sapphire of ash.
Sylvia Plath
Cinzas, cinzas,

assentes na tua língua,

necromancias fazes das minhas

que em cinzas, cinzas

me sopro por vida míngua

carne do pó fizeste.

A minha arte de morte

do teu toque arte, morte, mestre.





*conteúdo original, poema e imagem pertencem a Gonçalo Julião*


4 pensamentos sobre “Língua

  1. Well, success comes to those who think deeply and live well. :) Google Translate came up with this translation:

    “Ashes, Ashes,

    sitting on your tongue,

    You do necromancements of mine

    that in ashes, ashes

    I breathe for a poor life

    you have made the flesh of dust.

    My art of death

    of your touch art, death, master.”

    …which I thought was a lot bleaker than your version (“I breathe for a poor life”???!!). I much prefer yours :)

    Yes, I can see the photo inspiration now that I have read the Song of Songs. Very beautiful. :)

    1. Hello, friend! You’re right, it’s been a while. Had to get away and do some thinking, some living. Thank you so much! I agree, melancholy is the tone, but also quite sensual in a way. The picture was inspired by The Song of Songs and the young lady was such a good sport, so gracious!

      Here’s what I think is a fair rendition of the poem in english:

      Cinders, cinders,

      flaking from your tongue,
      mouthing my necromancies
      blown to cinders, cinders
      ‘tween puffs of scant life blown

      dust to flesh bred.
      Mine’s the art of death
      by your artful touch, fate, end.


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