James Womack – tradução Eduardo Muylaert
[Original publicado em maio de 2020 na
Literary Review – Londres]
Ele queria ser César, mas só foi Pompeu.
Neste ano, 16 de fevereiro (mesma coisa todo ano, James),
me dou conta da morte do presidente da França,
Félix Faure, no ano mil oitocentos e noventa e nove,
de grave apoplexia, enquanto recebia gratificação oral
de sua amante, Marguerite Steinheil.
Um festival apropriado e alternativo:
orgasmo/morte, tão perto do Dia dos Namorados.
Poucos anos após a morte de Faure, em mil novecentos
e oito, President Félix Faure, um barco francês de quatro velas,
naufragou na costa da Nova Zelândia.
Faure lançou botes salva-vidas que chegaram à terra.
Ninguém morreu; a ilha não era deserta.
Havia uma cabana, algumas provisões não muito antigas.
Logo mataram albatrozes (‘longe de serem saborosos’)
e depois dos albatrozes, os pinguins.
Os pássaros ficaram logo traumatizados:
após quatro semanas, fugiram des nouveaux Robinsons.
Duvido que pensassem na fellatio presidencial
enquanto se escondiam nas árvores mirradas
para evitar flechas e redes improvisadas.
Marguerite Steinheil sobreviveu, floresceu.
As mãos convulsivas de Félix Faure se agarraram ao cabelo dela
no moment suprême. Na hora do naufrágio
ela estava presa, acusada de matar
a mãe e o marido. Ela se saiu dessa.
Os pássaros aprenderam a desconfiar da humanidade.
Os marinheiros sobreviveram, foram resgatados.
Steinheil seduziu o rei Sisowath do Camboja,
se retirou para a Inglaterra, e morreu em Dove.
Faure continuou morto, e ridículo.
Ela também morreu, todos morreram, homem e barco,
e ninguém fala de nada disso agora.
Mesmo eu me arrependo de falar dessas coisas:
A capa inglesa, com a faca escondida sob a capa.
[James Womack é tradutor e escritor. Publicou duas antologias de poesia, Misprint (Carcanet, 2012) e On Trust: A book of Lies (Carcanet, 2017). Traduziu vários livros do russo e do espanhol, inclusive uma seleção da poesia de Vladimir Mayakovsky, Vladimir Maiakovsky and Other Poems (2016), e um de Manuel Vilas, Heaven (2020).
Ele é professor na universidade de Cambridge.]
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Félix Faure, Man and Boat
James Womack – Literary Review – May 2020
Il voulait être César, il ne fut que Pompée
This year, 16 February (same procedure as every year, James),
I acknowledge the death of the President of France,
Félix Faure, in the year eighteen ninety-nine,
of a stiff apoplexy, while receiving oral gratification
from his mistress Marguerite Steinheil.
I acknowledge the death of the President of France,
Félix Faure, in the year eighteen ninety-nine,
of a stiff apoplexy, while receiving oral gratification
from his mistress Marguerite Steinheil.
An appropriate and alternative festival:
orgasm/death, so close to Valentine’s Day.
A few years after Faure’s death, in nineteen
oh-eight, President Félix Faure, a French quatre-mâts,
was wrecked off the coast of New Zealand.
orgasm/death, so close to Valentine’s Day.
A few years after Faure’s death, in nineteen
oh-eight, President Félix Faure, a French quatre-mâts,
was wrecked off the coast of New Zealand.
Faure sent out lifeboats and made it to land.
No one had died; the island was not a desert.
There was a hut, some short-lived provisions.
Soon they killed albatrosses (‘far from tasty’)
and after the albatrosses, the penguins.
No one had died; the island was not a desert.
There was a hut, some short-lived provisions.
Soon they killed albatrosses (‘far from tasty’)
and after the albatrosses, the penguins.
The birds were quickly traumatised:
after four weeks they shunned les nouveaux Robinsons.
I doubt they thought about presidential fellatio
as they hid in the stunted trees
to avoid makeshift spears and nets.
after four weeks they shunned les nouveaux Robinsons.
I doubt they thought about presidential fellatio
as they hid in the stunted trees
to avoid makeshift spears and nets.
Marguerite Steinheil survived, flourished.
Faure’s convulsed hands had tangled in her hair
at le moment suprême. At the time of the shipwreck
she was under arrest, accused of killing
her mother and her husband. She got off.
Faure’s convulsed hands had tangled in her hair
at le moment suprême. At the time of the shipwreck
she was under arrest, accused of killing
her mother and her husband. She got off.
The birds learnt to mistrust mankind.
The sailors survived, were rescued.
Steinheil seduced King Sisowath of Cambodia,
and retired to England, and died in Hove.
Faure remained dead, and ridiculous.
The sailors survived, were rescued.
Steinheil seduced King Sisowath of Cambodia,
and retired to England, and died in Hove.
Faure remained dead, and ridiculous.
So she died, they all died, man and boat,
and nobody talks about any of this now.
Even I am sorry to speak of such things:
and nobody talks about any of this now.
Even I am sorry to speak of such things:
I wear the English cloak of apology.
The English cloak, with a knife beneath the cloak.
The English cloak, with a knife beneath the cloak.
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