the girl from the dream
by Edu Lobo e Chico Buarque
(translator H.M. de Oliveira)
At a stroke, I was delighted
The girl in backlight
I dared to ask: who are you?
But my voice fatered.
Awkward, I took her hands
As to untie a knot
I blew her face without thinking
And her face crumbled to dust.
Like sorcery, she returned
Singing in a whisper
Suddenly, I asked: who are you?
The light, however, trembled.
She gently running away from me
And when I touched her, she moaned
Her dress broke apart
And her face was no longer hers.
There ought to be such a place
some cluttered and blurred house,
where dreams are truly real
(And yet life is unreal).
There, my beloved would be my queen
with her smiles, her woes, her skinned
And a couch on which in the darkness
She would have dreams about me
Such a place should exist
Some kind of bazaar
where all the forgotten dreams
eventually cease to be.
Among the stairs that run away from our feet
And clocks that run backwards
If only I could find my true love
I was never coming back here
hélio magalhães de oliveira. 2011