American and Brazilian Poems

By Amadeu Salles

This unpretentious book relates Amadeu's voyage through the world of poetry, hoping that some will identify with his unconventional vision.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503568112

Amadeu Salles

Amadeu Salles was born on leap year 1956 in Brazil, Rio de Janeiro. While still an adolescent, he took an interest in music and rapidly became a prodigy on the clarinet and, with the help of the German government, studied music in Germany. Returning to his home country, he became a well-known figure on the classical circuit, all the while writing poetry and short stories. He's a Juilliard School alumnus and continues writing as well as deepening his knowledge of the classic music repertoire.

Book preview

1

You have told extraordinary stories

Your admirers still gathering, thin and scattered.

Their minds drizzling over your ancestor’s tales of shattered dreams,

And on how eager they are supposed to grasp your hollow memories

and learn from it.

The disappearance of your lives is forgetfulness.

Just as if the rain had washed up the silvery clouds once again

turned blue.

Your masters…all assembled in their silly prayers, swallowing venom

from the sweat of saints, turning into cocoons of phobia.

You have written on skulls, and your non-organic reflection is fading

away from your fractured mirage.

Take your insects and your heavens away from my youth and hell.

and give me your dreams no more!

Grant me the tear of absolute stillness,

And a bench…where a dream at last,

……won’t be shared with you!

……………………………………….!

1

Contastes extraordinárias histórias:

Vossos admiradores ainda congregados nos filetes de estilhaços

e suas mentes no orvalho de sonhos partidos,

fazem uso de vossa memória côncava e oca.

O desaparecimento de suas vidas é o puro esquecimento.

Como se na chuva o cinza das nuvens houvera cedido lugar

a uma nova cor,

vossos mestres… coletados e todos em estúpidas rezas,

engolindo no suor o veneno dos santos tornaram-se casulos no medo.

Escrevestes em crânios, e no vosso reflexo não-orgânico, lentamente,

vossa fraturada imagem se distancia.

Afastai vossos insetos e galáxias de minha juventude e inferno

e dê-me dos vossos sonhos o sono e o não sonhar !

Observai a lágrima da quietude absoluta,

e uma bancada… onde um sonho, finalmente,

não há de se compartilhar convosco..

2

I have not forgotten!

A little brook encircled the main fence and up in the main lyceum there was a small library, somewhat yellowish